Poems of Experience | Page 4

and punished with blow on blow;?As ever and alway I tried in vain
To shun the labour I hated so.
Over and over I came this way
For just one purpose: O stubborn soul!?Turn with a will to your work to-day,
And learn the lesson of SELF-CONTROL.
THE WHITE MAN
Wherever the white man's feet have trod
(Oh far does the white man stray)?A bold road rifles the virginal sod,?And the forest wakes out of its dream of God,
To yield him the right of way.?For this is the law: BY THE POWER OF THOUGHT,?FOR WORSE, OR FOR BETTER, ARE MIRACLES WROUGHT.
Wherever the white man's pathway leads,
(Far, far has that pathway gone)?The Earth is littered with broken creeds -?And alway the dark man's tent recedes,
And the white man pushes on.?For this is the law: BE IT GOOD OR ILL,?ALL THINGS MUST YIELD TO THE STRONGER WILL.
Wherever the white man's light is shed,
(Oh far has that light been thrown)?Though Nature has suffered and beauty bled,?Yet the goal of the race has been thrust ahead,
And the might of the race has grown.?For this is the law: BE IT CRUEL OR KIND,?THE UNIVERSE SWAYS TO THE POWER OF MIND.
A MOORISH MAID
Above her veil a shrouded Moorish maid
Showed melting eyes, as limpid as a lake;?A brow untouched by care; a band of jetty hair,
And nothing more. The all-concealing haik?Fell to her high arched instep. At her side
An old duenna walked; her withered face?Half covered only, since no lingering grace?Bespoke the beauty once her master's pride.
Above her veil, the Moorish maid beheld
The modern world, in Paris-decked Algiers;?Saw happy lad and lass, in love's contentment pass,
Or in sweet wholesome friendship, free from fears.?She saw fair matrons, walking arm-in-arm
With life-long lovers, time-endeared, and then?She saw the ardent look in eyes of men,?And thrilled and trembled with a vague alarm.
Above her veil she saw the stuccoed court
That led to dim secluded rooms within.?She followed, dutiful, the dame unbeautiful,
Who told her that the Christian world means sin.?Some day, full soon, she would go forth a bride -
Of one whose face she never had beheld.?Something within her, wakened, and rebelled;?She flung aside her veil, and cried, and cried.
LINCOLN
When God created this good world?A few stupendous peaks were hurled?From His strong hand, and they remain?The wonder of the level plain.?But these colossal heights are rare,?While shifting sands are everywhere.
So with the race. The centuries pass?And nations fall like leaves of grass.?They die, forgotten and unsung;?While straight from God some souls are flung,?To live immortal and sublime.?So lives great Lincoln for all time.
I KNOW NOT
Death! I know not what room you are abiding in,
But I will go my way,?Rejoicing day by day,?Nor will I flee or stay?For fear I tread the path you may be hiding in.
Death! I know not, if my small barque be nearing you;
But if you are at sea,?Still there my sails float free;?'What is to be will be.'?Nor will I mar the happy voyage by fearing you.
Death! I know not, what hour or spot you wait for me;
My days untroubled flow,?Just trusting on, I go,?For oh, I know, I know,?Death is but Life that holds some glad new fate for me.
INTERLUDE
The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer;
The headstones thicken along the way,?And life grows sadder, but love grows stronger,
For those who walk with us day by day.
The tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower;
The courage is lesser to do and dare;?And the tide of joy in the heart falls lower,
And seldom covers the reefs of care.
But all true things in the world seem truer;
And the better things of earth seem best,?And friends are dearer, as friends are fewer,
And love is ALL as our sun dips west.
Then let us clasp hands as we walk together,
And let us speak softly in love's sweet tone;?For no man knows on the morrow whether
We two pass on--or but one alone.
RESURRECTION
Pausing a moment ere the day was done,?While yet the earth was scintillant with light,?I backward glanced. From valley, plain, and height,?At intervals, where my life-path had run,?Rose cross on cross; and nailed upon each one?Was my dead self. And yet that gruesome sight?Lent sudden splendour to the falling night,?Showing the conquests that my soul had won.
Up to the rising stars I looked and cried,?'There is no death! for year on year, re-born?I wake to larger life: to joy more great,?So many times have I been crucified,?So often seen the resurrection morn,?I go triumphant, though new Calvaries wait.
THE VOICES OF THE CITY
The voices of the city--merged and swelled?Into a mighty dissonance of sound,?And from the medley rose these broken strains?In changing time and ever-changing keys.
I
Pleasure seekers, silken clad,
Led by cherub Day,?Ours the duty to be glad,
Ours the toil of play.
Sleep has bound the commonplace,
Pleasure rules the dawn.?Small hours set the merry pace
And we follow on.
We must use the joys of earth,
All its cares we'll keep;?Night was made for youth and mirth,
Day