Poems of Power | Page 9

good come unto
me;
To save, by giving whatsoe'er I have
To those who have
not--this alone is gain.
THOUGHT-MAGNETS
With each strong thought, with every earnest longing
For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul,
Invisible vast forces are
set thronging
Between thee and that goal
'Tis only when some hidden weakness alters
And changes thy desire, or makes it less,
That this mysterious army
ever falters
Or stops short of success.
Thought is a magnet; and the longed-for pleasure,
Or boon, or aim, or object, is the steel;
And its attainment hangs but
on the measure
Of what thy soul can feel.
SMILES
Smile a little, smile a little,
As you go along,
Not alone when life is pleasant,
But when things go wrong.
Care delights to see you frowning,
Loves to hear you sigh;
Turn a smiling face upon her -

Quick the dame will fly.
Smile a little, smile a little,
All along the road;
Every life must have its burden,
Every heart its load.
Why sit down in gloom and darkness
With your grief to sup?
As you drink Fate's bitter tonic,
Smile across the cup.
Smile upon the troubled pilgrims
Whom you pass and meet;
Frowns are thorns, and smiles are
blossoms
Oft for weary feet.
Do not make the way seem harder
By a sullen face;
Smile a little, smile a little,
Brighten up the place.
Smile upon your undone labour;
Not for one who grieves
O'er his task waits wealth or glory;
He who smiles achieves.
Though you meet with loss and sorrow
In the passing years,
Smile a little, smile a little,
Even through your tears.
THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY
Man has explored all countries and all lands,
And made his own the
secrets of each clime.
Now, ere the world has fully reached its prime,

The oval earth lies compassed with steel bands,
The seas are slaves

to ships that touch all strands,
And even the haughty elements, sublime
And bold, yield him their
secrets for all time,
And speed like lackeys forth at his commands.
Still, though he search from shore to distant shore,
And no strange realms, no unlocated plains
Are left for his attainment
and control,
Yet is there one more kingdom to explore.
Go, know thyself, O man! there yet remains
The undiscovered
country of thy soul!
THE UNIVERSAL ROUTE
As we journey along, with a laugh and a song,
We see, on youth's flower-decked slope,
Like a beacon of light,
shining fair on the sight,
The beautiful Station of Hope.
But the wheels of old Time roll along as we climb,
And our youth speeds away on the years;
And with hearts that are
numb with life's sorrows we come
To the mist-covered Station of Tears.
Still onward we pass, where the milestones, alas!
Are the tombs of our dead, to the West,
Where glitters and gleams, in
the dying sunbeams,
The sweet, silent Station of Rest.
All rest is but change, and no grave can estrange

The soul from its Parent above;
And, scorning the rod, it soars back
to its God,
To the limitless City of Love.
UNANSWERED PRAYERS
Like some schoolmaster, kind in being stern,
Who hears the children
crying o'er their slates
And calling, "Help me, master!" yet helps not,

Since in his silence and refusal lies
Their self-development, so God
abides
Unheeding many prayers. He is not deaf
To any cry sent up
from earnest hearts;
He hears and strengthens when He must deny.

He sees us weeping over life's hard sums;
But should He give the key
and dry our tears,
What would it profit us when school were done

And not one lesson mastered?
What a world
Were this if all our prayers were answered. Not
In
famed Pandora's box were such vast ills
As lie in human hearts.
Should our desires,
Voiced one by one in prayer, ascend to God

And come back as events shaped to our wish,
What chaos would
result!
In my fierce youth
I sighed out breath enough to move a fleet,

Voicing wild prayers to heaven for fancied boons
Which were denied;
and that denial bends
My knee to prayers of gratitude each day
Of
my maturer years. Yet from those prayers
I rose alway regirded for
the strife
And conscious of new strength. Pray on, sad heart,
That
which thou pleadest for may not be given,
But in the lofty altitude
where souls
Who supplicate God's grace are lifted, there
Thou shalt
find help to bear thy daily lot
Which is not elsewhere found.
THANKSGIVING
We walk on starry fields of white

And do not see the daisies,
For blessings common in our sight
We rarely offer praises.
We sigh for some supreme delight
To crown our lives with splendour,
And quite ignore our daily store
Of pleasures sweet and tender.
Our cares are bold and push their way
Upon our thought and feeling;
They hang about us all the day,
Our time from pleasure stealing.
So unobtrusive many a joy
We pass by and forget it,
But worry strives to own our lives,
And conquers if we let it.
There's not a day in all the year
But holds some