Poems of Power | Page 4

fights because he must,
And in his secret soul feels shame because?He desecrates the higher manhood's laws
Oh! there are worthier themes for poet's pen?In this great hour, than bloody deeds of men
Or triumphs of one hero (though he be?Deserving song for his humility):
The rights of many--not the worth of one;?The coming issues--not the battle done;
The awful opulence, and awful need;?The rise of brotherhood--the fall of greed,
The soul of man replete with God's own force,?The call "to heights," and not the cry "to horse," -
Are there not better themes in this great age?For pen of poet, or for voice of sage
Than those old tales of killing? Song is dumb?Only that greater song in time may come.
When comes the bard, he whom the world waits for,?He will not sing of War.
SONG OF THE SPIRIT
All the aim of life is just
Getting back to God.?Spirit casting off its dust,
Getting back to God.?Every grief we have to bear?Disappointment, cross, despair?Each is but another stair
Climbing back to God.
Step by step and mile by mile -
Getting back to God;?Nothing else is worth the while -
Getting back to God.?Light and shadow fill each day?Joys and sorrows pass away,?Smile at all, and smiling, say,
Getting back to God.
Do not wear a mournful face
Getting back to God;?Scatter sunshine on the place
Going back to God;?Take what pleasure you can find,?But where'er your paths may wind.?Keep the purpose well in mind, -
Getting back to God.
WOMANHOOD
She must be honest, both in thought and deed,?Of generous impulse, and above all greed;?Not seeking praise, or place, or power, or pelf,?But life's best blessings for her higher self,?Which means the best for all.
She must have faith,?To make good friends of Trouble, Pain, and Death,?And understand their message.
She should be?As redolent with tender sympathy?As is a rose with fragrance.
Cheerfulness?Should be her mantle, even though her dress?May be of Sorrow's weaving.
On her face?A loyal nature leaves its seal of grace,?And chastity is in her atmosphere.?Not that chill chastity which seems austere?(Like untrod snow-peaks, lovely to behold?Till once attained--then barren, loveless, cold);?But the white flame that feeds upon the soul?And lights the pathway to a peaceful goal.?A sense of humour, and a touch of mirth,?To brighten up the shadowy spots of earth;?And pride that passes evil--choosing good.?All these unite in perfect womanhood.
MORNING PRAYER
Let me to-day do something that shall take
A little sadness from the world's vast store,?And may I be so favoured as to make
Of joy's too scanty sum a little more?Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed
Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend;?Nor would I pass, unseeing, worthy need,
Or sin by silence when I should defend.?However meagre be my worldly wealth,
Let me give something that shall aid my. kind -?A word of courage, or a thought of health,
Dropped as I pass for troubled hearts to find.?Let me to-night look back across the span
'Twixt dawn and dark, and to my conscience say -?Because of some good act to beast or man -
"The world is better that I lived to-day."
THE VOICES OF THE PEOPLE
Oh! I hear the people calling through the day time and the night time,?They are calling, they are crying for the coming of the right time. It behooves you, men and women, it behooves you to be heeding, For there lurks a note of menace underneath their plaintive pleading.
Let the land usurpers listen, let the greedy-hearted ponder, On the meaning of the murmur, rising here and swelling yonder, Swelling louder, waxing stronger, like a storm-fed stream that courses?Through the valleys, down abysses, growing, gaining with new forces.
Day by day the river widens, that great river of opinion,?And its torrent beats and plunges at the base of greed's dominion. Though you dam it by oppression and fling golden bridges o'er it, Yet the day and hour advances when in fright you'll flee before it.
Yes, I hear the people calling, through the night time and the day time,?Wretched toilers in life's autumn, weary young ones in life's May time -?They are crying, they are calling for their share of work and pleasure;?You are heaping high your coffers while you give them scanty measure, -?You have stolen God's wide acres, just to glut your swollen purses - Oh! restore them to His children ere their pleading turns to curses.
THE WORLD GROWS BETTER
Oh! the earth is full of sinning
And of trouble and of woe,?But the devil makes an inning
Every time we say it's so.?And the way to set him scowling,
And to put him back a pace,?Is to stop this stupid growling,
And to look things in the face.
If you glance at history's pages,
In all lands and eras known,?You will find the buried ages
Far more wicked than our own.?As you scan each word and letter.
You will realise it more,?That the world to-day is better
Than it ever was before.
There is much that needs amending
In the present time, no doubt;?There is right that needs