Poems of Power | Page 4

the use of tears, know sorrow's worth,
And pain for us is
always love's rebirth.
Our paths lead closely by the paths supernal;

We two, we two, we live in love eternal.
THE POET'S THEME
What is the explanation of the strange silence of American poets

concerning American triumphs on sea and land?
Literary Digest.
Why should the poet of these pregnant times
Be asked to sing of
war's unholy crimes?
To laud and eulogize the trade which thrives
On horrid holocausts of
human lives?
Man was a fighting beast when earth was young,
And war the only
theme when Homer sung.
'Twixt might and might the equal contest lay,
Not so the battles of our
modern day.
Too often now the conquering hero struts
A Gulliver among the
Liliputs.
Success no longer rests on skill or fate,
But on the movements of a
syndicate.
Of old men fought and deemed it right and just.
To-day the warrior
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