Chapter 2
But in spite of all the trouble That obscures the sun to-day, Just remember it was double In the ages passed away. And those wrongs shall all be righted, Good shall dominate the land, For the darkness now is lighted By the torch in Science’s hand.
Forth from little motes in Chaos, We have come to what we are; And no evil force can stay us— We shall mount from star to star, We shall break each bond and fetter That has bound us heretofore; And the earth is surely better Than it ever was before.
A MAN’S IDEAL
A lovely little keeper of the home, Absorbed in menu books, yet erudite When I need counsel; quick at repartee And slow to anger. Modest as a flower, Yet scintillant and radiant as a star. Unmercenary in her mould of mind, While opulent and dainty in her tastes. A nature generous and free, albeit The incarnation of economy. She must be chaste as proud Diana was, Yet warm as Venus. To all others cold As some white glacier glittering in the sun; To me as ardent as the sensuous rose That yields its sweetness to the burrowing bee All ignorant of evil in the world, And innocent as any cloistered nun, Yet wise as Phryne in the arts of love When I come thirsting to her nectared lips. Good as the best, and tempting as the worst, A saint, a siren, and a paradox.
THE FIRE BRIGADE
Hark! high o’er the rattle and clamour and clatter Of traffic-filled streets, do you hear that loud noise? And pushing and rushing to see what’s the matter, Like herds of wild cattle, go pell-mell the boys.
There’s a fire in the city! the engines are coming! The bold bells are clanging, “Make way in the street!” The wheels of the hose-cart are spinning and humming In time to the music of galloping feet.
Make way there! make way there! the horses are flying, The sparks from their swift hoofs shoot higher and higher, The crowds are increasing—the gamins are crying: “Hooray, boys!” “Hooray, boys!” “Come on to the fire!”
With clanging and banging and clatter and rattle The long ladders follow the engine and hose. The men are all ready to dash into battle; But will they come out again? God only knows.
At windows and doorways crowd questioning faces; There’s something about it that quickens one’s breath. How proudly the brave fellows sit in their places— And speed to the conflict that may be their death!
Still faster and faster and faster and faster The grand horses thunder and leap on their way The red foe is yonder, and may prove the master; Turn out there, bold traffic—turn out there, I say!
For once the loud truckman knows oaths will not matter And reins in his horses and yields to his fate. The engines are coming! let pleasure-crowds scatter, Let street car and truckman and mail waggon wait.
They speed like a comet—they pass in a minute; The boys follow on like a tail to a kite; The commonplace street has but traffic now in it— The great fire engines have swept out of sight.
THE TIDES
Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide. On outgoing billows it drifts from your sight, But back on the incoming waves it may ride And land at your threshold again before night. Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide.
Be careful what follies you toss in life’s sea. On bright dancing billows they drift far away, But back on the Nemesis tides they may be Thrown down at your threshold an unwelcome day Be careful what follies you toss in youth’s sea.
WHEN THE REGIMENT CAME BACK
All the uniforms were blue, all the swords were bright and new, When the regiment went marching down the street, All the men were hale and strong as they proudly moved along, Through the cheers that drowned the music of their feet. Oh the music of the feet keeping time to drums that beat, Oh the splendour and the glitter of the sight, As with swords and rifles new and in uniforms of blue The regiment went marching to the fight!
When the regiment came back all the guns and swords were black And the uniforms had faded out to gray, And the faces of the men who marched through that street again Seemed like faces of the dead who lose their way. For the dead who lose their way cannot look more wan and gray. Oh the sorrow and the pity of the sight, Oh the weary lagging feet out of step with drums that beat, As the regiment comes marching from the fight.
WOMAN TO MAN
Woman is man’s enemy, rival, and competitor.—JOHN J. INGALLS.
You do but jest, sir, and you jest not well, How could the hand be enemy of the arm, Or seed and sod be rivals! How could light Feel jealousy of heat, plant of the leaf, Or competition dwell ’twixt lip and smile? Are we not part and parcel of yourselves? Like strands in one great braid we entertwine And make the perfect whole. You could not be, Unless we gave you birth; we are the soil From which you sprang, yet sterile were that soil Save as you planted. (Though in the Book we read One woman bore a child with no man’s aid, We find no record of a man-child born Without the aid of woman! Fatherhood Is but a small achievement at the best, While motherhood comprises heaven and hell.) This ever-growing argument of sex Is most unseemly, and devoid of sense. Why waste more time in controversy, when There is not time enough for all of love, Our rightful occupation in this life? Why prate of our defects, of where we fail, When just the story of our worth would need Eternity for telling, and our best Development comes ever through your praise, As through our praise you reach your highest self? Oh! had you not been miser of your praise And let our virtues be their own reward, The old-established order of the world Would never have been changed. Small blame is ours For this unsexing of ourselves, and worse. Effeminising of the male. We were Content, sir, till you starved us, heart and brain. All we have done, or wise, or otherwise, Traced to the root, was done for love of you. Let us taboo all vain comparisons, And go forth as God meant us, hand in hand, Companions, mates, and comrades evermore; Two parts of one divinely ordained whole.
THE TRAVELLER
Reply to Rudyard Kipling’s “He travels the fastest who travels alone.”
Who travels alone with his eyes on the heights, Though he laughs in the day time oft weeps in the nights;
For courage goes down at the set of the sun, When the toil of the journey is all borne by one.
He speeds but to grief though full gaily he ride Who travels alone without love at his side.
Who travels alone without lover or friend But hurries from nothing, to naught at the end.
Though great be his winnings and high be his goal, He is bankrupt in wisdom and beggared in soul.
Life’s one gift of value to him is denied Who travels alone without love at his side.
It is easy enough in this world to make haste If one live for that purpose—but think of the waste;
For life is a poem to leisurely read, And the joy of the journey lies not in its speed.
Oh! vain his achievement and petty his pride Who travels alone without love at his side.
THE EARTH
The earth is yours and mine, Our God’s bequest. That testament divine Who dare contest?
Usurpers of the earth, We claim our share. We are of royal birth. Beware! beware!
Unloose the hand of greed From God’s fair land, We claim but what we need— That, we demand.
NOW
I leave with God to-morrow’s where and how, And do concern myself but with the Now, That little word, though half the future’s length, Well used, holds twice its meaning and its strength.
Like one blindfolded groping out his way, I will not try to touch beyond to-day. Since all the future is concealed from sight I need but strive to make the next step right.
That done, the next, and so on, till I find Perchance some day I am no longer blind, And looking up, behold a radiant Friend Who says, “Rest, now, for you have reached the end.”
YOU AND TO-DAY
With every rising of the sun Think of your life as just begun.
The past has shrived and buried deep All yesterdays—there let them sleep,
Nor seek to summon back one ghost Of that innumerable host.
Concern yourself with but to-day; Woo it and teach it to obey
Your wish and will. Since time began To-day has been the friend of man.
But in his blindness and his sorrow He looks to yesterday and to-morrow.
You and to-day! a soul sublime And the great pregnant hour of time.
With God between to bind the train, Go forth, I say—attain—attain.
THE REASON
Do you know what moves the tides As they swing from low to high? ’Tis the love, love, love, Of the moon within the sky. Oh! they follow where she guides, Do the faithful-hearted tides.
Do you know what moves the earth Out of winter into spring? ’Tis the love, love, love, Of the sun, the mighty king. Oh the rapture that finds birth In the kiss of sun and earth!
Do you know what makes sweet songs Ring for me above earth’s strife? ’Tis the love, love, love, That you bring into my life, Oh the glory of the songs In the heart where love belongs!
MISSION
If you are sighing for a lofty work, If great ambitions dominate your mind, Just watch yourself and see you do not shirk The common little ways of being kind.
If you are dreaming of a future goal, When, crowned with glory, men shall own your power, Be careful that you let no struggling soul Go by unaided in the present hour.
If you are moved to pity for the earth, And long to aid it, do not look so high, You pass some poor, dumb creature faint with thirst— All life is equal in the eternal eye.
If you would help to make the wrong things right, Begin at home: there lies a lifetime’s toil. Weed your own garden fair for all men’s sight, Before you plan to till another’s soil.
God chooses His own leaders in the world, And from the rest He asks but willing hands. As mighty mountains into place are hurled, While patient tides may only shape the sands.
REPETITION
Over and over and over These truths I will weave in song— That God’s great plan needs you and me, That will is greater than destiny, And that love moves the world along.
However mankind may doubt it, It shall listen and hear my creed— That God may ever be found within, That the worship of self is the only sin, And the only devil is greed.
Over and over and over These truths I will say and sing, That love is mightier far than hate, That a man’s own thought is a man’s own fate, And that life is a goodly thing.
BEGIN THE DAY
Begin each morning with a talk to God, And ask for your divine inheritance Of usefulness, contentment, and success. Resign all fear, all doubt, and all despair. The stars doubt not, and they are undismayed, Though whirled through space for countless centuries, And told not why or wherefore: and the sea With everlasting ebb and flow obeys, And leaves the purpose with the unseen Cause. The star sheds radiance on a million worlds, The sea is prodigal with waves, and yet No lustre from the star is lost, and not One drop is missing from the ocean tides. Oh! brother to the star and sea, know all God’s opulence is held in trust for those Who wait serenely and who work in faith.
WORDS
Words are great forces in the realm of life: Be careful of their use. Who talks of hate, Of poverty, of sickness, but sets rife These very elements to mar his fate.
When love, health, happiness, and plenty hear Their names repeated over day by day, They wing their way like answering fairies near, Then nestle down within our homes to stay.
Who talks of evil conjures into shape The formless thing and gives it life and scope. This is the law: then let no word escape That does not breathe of everlasting hope.
FATE AND I
Wise men tell me thou, O Fate, Art invincible and great.
Well, I own thy prowess; still Dare I flout thee with my will
Thou canst shatter in a span All the earthly pride of man.
Outward things thou canst control; But stand back—I rule my soul!
Death? ’Tis such a little thing— Scarcely worth the mentioning.
What has death to do with me, Save to set my spirit free?
Something in me dwells, O Fate, That can rise and dominate
Loss, and sorrow, and disaster,— How, then, Fate, art thou my master?
In the great primeval morn My immortal will was born,
Part of that stupendous Cause Which conceived the Solar Laws,
Lit the suns and filled the seas, Royalest of pedigrees.
That great Cause was Love, the Source Who most loves has most of Force.
He who harbours Hate one hour Saps the soul of Peace and Power.
He who will not hate his foe Need not dread life’s hardest blow.
In the realm of brotherhood Wishing no man aught but good,
Naught but good can come to me— This is Love’s supreme decree.
Since I bar my door to Hate, What have I to fear, O Fate?
Since I fear not—Fate I vow, I the ruler am, not thou!
ATTAINMENT
Use all your hidden forces. Do not miss The purpose of this life, and do not wait For circumstance to mould or change your fate; In your own self lies Destiny. Let this Vast truth cast out all fear, all prejudice, All hesitation. Know that you are great, Great with divinity. So dominate Environment, and enter into bliss. Love largely and hate nothing. Hold no aim That does not chord with universal good. Hear what the voices of the Silence say— All joys are yours if you put forth your claim. Once let the spiritual laws be understood, Material things must answer and obey.
A PLEA TO PEACE
When mighty issues loom before us, all The petty great men of the day seem small, Like pigmies standing in a blaze of light Before some grim majestic mountain-height. War, with its bloody and impartial hand, Reveals the hidden weakness of a land, Uncrowns the heroes trusting Peace has made Of men whose honour is a thing of trade, And turns the searchlight full on many a place Where proud conventions long have masked disgrace. O lovely Peace! as thou art fair be wise. Demand great men, and great men shall arise To do thy bidding. Even as warriors come, Swift at the call of bugle and of drum, So at the voice of Peace, imperative As bugle’s call, shall heroes spring to live For country and for thee. In every land, In every age, men are what times demand. Demand the best, O Peace, and teach thy sons They need not rush in front of death-charged guns With murder in their hearts to prove their worth. The grandest heroes who have graced the earth Were love-filled souls who did not seek the fray, But chose the safe, hard, high, and lonely way Of selfless labour for a suffering world. Beneath our glorious flag again unfurled In victory such heroes wait to be Called into bloodless action, Peace, by thee. Be thou insistent in thy stern demand, And wise, great men shall rise up in the land.
PRESUMPTION
Whenever I am prone to doubt or wonder— I check myself, and say, “That mighty One Who made the solar system cannot blunder— And for the best all things are being done.” Who set the stars on their eternal courses Has fashioned this strange earth by some sure plan. Bow low, bow low to those majestic forces, Nor dare to doubt their wisdom, puny man.
You cannot put one little star in motion, You cannot shape one single forest leaf, Nor fling a mountain up, nor sink an ocean, Presumptuous pigmy, large with unbelief. You cannot bring one dawn of regal splendour, Nor bid the day to shadowy twilight fall, Nor send the pale moon forth with radiance tender— And dare you doubt the One who has done all?
“So much is wrong, there is such pain—such sinning.” Yet look again—behold how much is right! And He who formed the world from its beginning Knows how to guide it upward to the light. Your task, O man, is not to carp and cavil At God’s achievements, but with purpose strong To cling to good, and turn away from evil. That is the way to help the world along.
HIGH NOON
Time’s finger on the dial of my life Points to high noon! and yet the half-spent day Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark, Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end. To those who burn the candle to the stick, The sputtering socket yields but little light. Long life is sadder than an early death. We cannot count on ravelled threads of age Whereof to weave a fabric. We must use The warp and woof the ready present yields And toil while daylight lasts. When I bethink How brief the past, the future, still more brief Calls on to action, action! Not for me Is time for retrospection or for dreams, Not time for self-laudation or remorse. Have I done nobly? Then I must not let Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame. Have I done wrong? Well, let the bitter taste Of fruit that turned to ashes on my lip Be my reminder in temptation’s hour, And keep me silent when I would condemn. Sometimes it takes the acid of a sin To cleanse the clouded windows of our souls So pity may shine through them.
Looking back, My faults and errors seem like stepping-stones That led the way to knowledge of the truth And made me value virtue; sorrows shine In rainbow colours o’er the gulf of years, Where lie forgotten pleasures.
Looking forth, Out to the western sky still bright with noon, I feel well spurred and booted for the strife That ends not till Nirvana is attained.
Battling with fate, with men, and with myself, Up the steep summit of my life’s forenoon, Three things I learned, three things of precious worth, To guide and help me down the western slope. I have learned how to pray, and toil, and save: To pray for courage to receive what comes, Knowing what comes to be divinely sent; To toil for universal good, since thus And only thus can 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.