Poems of Experience | Page 3

granted -?And forth she forged in his own domain -
Till the strange 'new woman,' the old supplanted.
'Strange' with the glow of a wakened soul,
And 'new' with the purpose of large endeavour,?She turned her face to the higher goal -
To the higher goal it is turned for ever.?Trade and science and craft and art,
Have opened their doors to the call of woman;?And greater she grows in her greater part,
More tenderly wise, and more sweetly human.
Brave foremothers of freedom's birth
Smile through space on your splendid daughters.?At one with liberty lighting the earth,
Their torches flame o'er the darkest waters.?They lend a lustre to sea and land:
They sweeten the world with their wholesome graces:?As out in the harbour of life they stand
To cheer and welcome the coming races.
Brave forefathers and heroes who fought
Under the flag of the Revolution,?War was the price of the freedom you bought,
But PEACE is the watchword of Evolution.?The progress of woman means progress of peace,
She wars on war, and its hosts alarming;?And her great love battle will never cease,
Till the glory is seen of a world disarming.
The woman wonder with heart of flame,
The coming man of the race will find her.?For petty purpose and narrow aim,
And fault and flaw she will leave behind her.?He grown tender, and she grown wise,
They shall enter the Eden by both created;?The broadened kingdom of Paradise,
And love, and mate, as the first pair mated.
BATTLE HYMN OF THE WOMEN
They are waking, they are waking,
In the east, and in the west;?They are throwing wide their windows to the sun;?And they see the dawn is breaking,
And they quiver with unrest,?For they know their work is waiting to be done.
They are waking in the city,
They are waking on the farm;?They are waking in the boudoir, and the mill;?And their hearts are full of pity
As they sound the loud alarm,?For the sleepers, who in darkness, slumber, still.
In the guarded harem prison,
Where they smother under veils,?And all echoes of the world are walled away;?Though the sun has not yet risen,
Yet the ancient darkness pales,?And the sleepers, in their slumber, dream of day.
And their dream shall grow in splendour
Till each sleeper wakes, and stirs;?Till she breaks from old traditions, and is free;?And the world shall rise, and render
Unto woman what is hers,?As it welcomes in the race that is to be.
Unto woman, God the Maker
Gave the secret of His plan;?It is written out in cipher, on her soul;?From the darkness, you must take her,
To the light of day, O man!?Would you know the mighty meaning of the scroll.
MEMORIES {1}
I am thinking of the Springtime?On the farm out in the West,?When my world held nothing for me that I wanted,?(Save a courage all undaunted),?And my foolish little rhymes,?Were but heart beats, rung in chimes,?That I sounded, just to ease my life's unrest.?Yes, I sang them, and I rang them,?Just to ease my youth's unrest.
When I heard the name of London,?In that early day, afar,?In that Springtime of my Country over yonder,?Then I used to sit and wonder?If the day would come to me,?When my ship should cross the sea,?To the land that seemed as distant as a star.?In my dreaming, ever gleaming?Like a distant unknown star.
Now in London in the Springtime,?I am sitting here, your guest.?Nay--I think it is a vision, or a fancy -?Part of dreamland Necromancy;?And I question: is it true?That the great warm hearts of you,?Heard the winging of that singing in the West,?Heard the chiming of my rhyming?From the farmhouse in the West?
Let me linger in the fancy,?For the soul of me is stirred?As I dream that I am sitting here among you;?And the songs that I have sung you?Shall grow stronger through the art?Of heart speaking unto heart,?Through the gladness of the singer who is heard?Lo! my songs have crossed the ocean?But the voice of my emotion finds no word.
SEE?
If one proves weak who you fancied strong,
Or false who you fancied true,?Just ease the smart of your wounded heart
By the thought that it is not you!
If many forget a promise made,
And your faith falls into the dust,?Then look meanwhile in your mirror and smile,
And say, '_I_ am one to trust!'
If you search in vain for an ageing face
Unharrowed by fretful fears,?Then make right now (and keep) a vow
To grow in grace with the years.
If you lose your faith in the word of man
As you go from the port of youth,?Just say as you sail, '_I_ will not fail
To keep to the course of truth!'
For this is the way, and the only way -
At least so it seems to me.?IT IS UP TO YOU, TO BE, AND DO,
WHAT YOU LOOK FOR IN OTHERS. SEE?
THE PURPOSE
Over and over the task was set,
Over and over I slighted the work,?But ever and alway I knew that yet
I must face and finish the toil I shirk.
Over and over the whip of pain
Has spurred