Song-waves Part 7

The year is rounding up its task, And kingly gives to all that ask; Ay, soon 'twill move in pomp so royal The world shall seem, but a heavenly mask!

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The full ripe year, these maple hills!

The pure October weather fills Earth's veins so full of glowing crimson That every leaf is ablush, and thrills.

An expectation holds the days, And angel sunbeams throng the ways; The luminous skies grow close and tender, And over all is a brooding haze.

'Tis summer's apotheosis In flame of color, burning kiss, As dew dies in the arms of sunlight-- A world of beauty dissolved in bliss.

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I dreamed I drew my parting breath, And fell, in sinking swoon of death, To gulfs of utter night all chilly, While woven hands held me close beneath.

And then, as thousand lights on sh.o.r.e, The radiant forms I'd known before; And growing sound of kindly voices, And flood of light through an open door.

And, lo, at stern and prow there stands, Close-veiled, an angel winged!--the sands Beneath the shallop's keel wake music; Folded am I by the pierced hands!

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"The world's a train at speeding rate; An iron track its wheels await; We're all on board--beyond is darkness, For G.o.d is only a name for Fate."

Thus mouths and blasphemes round about An age in bondage to its doubt.

"Pray!" says the soul, and G.o.d, and Christ--and Freedom affirm with a ringing shout

"Believe in G.o.d, believe in Me,"

Is freedom's voice like sounding sea, Its grand AMEN from Him that liveth And holds of this, and all worlds, the key.

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Hope's clear blue eye is open wide, And hath fair visions that abide; The white light of imagination Glows on her brows as a heavenly bride.

Her face is lift to veiled things, To which she mounts as if with wings; The tents of night, the sable future, Are light as day with the song she sings.

As lithe as breadths of silvery rye When wrestling winds its footing try, The spirit that with hope is gleaming; It must look up to the bending sky.

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I see that power is not in art, Nor name nor place essential part Of life's reality and glory; The strength of life is the health of heart.

If man but lived the pure white truth, As lives the lily tender ruth, The earth were Paradise to-morrow, The Christ, unveiled, would be here in sooth.

The worldly wise, he does not heed,-- What love sees true is true indeed!

Immortal blooms this hardy blossom, And deathless fruits in a deathless creed.

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Unveiled as kinsman, Love did seek His wandering brethren, Jew and Greek.

(That G.o.d made man in His own image Did human life of our G.o.d fore-speak).

Nor mask nor vesture was His mien By man and angels wistly seen, Nor filmy veil, nor apparition, G.o.d's human life as the Nazarene.

A man the Christ of G.o.d earth trod, And showed to man, and worlds abroad, The holy, good, and sorrowing Father, Atoning love, and the heart of G.o.d.

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O glorious light! Thy limpid wave Doth floor of living being pave, And life from out the caves of darkness Waft to His sheltering architrave.

From void of night's lone pall of jet, Yellow and red and violet Into a quivering beam were woven,-- His flying looms are aweaving yet.

If man and beast and tree and flower Unweave not Love's rich beauteous dower, All Danae again earth darkles Beneath His ceaseless and golden shower.

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Hail, Mary, honored of the race!

Light of the Home, its fount of grace, Is woman--sister, wife, and mother-- Circling a towered and a heavenly place.

She sorrowed oft for Love's dear sake, She did the alabaster break; Like Him she knows of pain and anguish, And doth for life of death's cup partake.

Hope of the race! since from Home's throne (Sweet Love's own gift, and His alone,) She giveth laws to coming ages-- Builder from cope to foundation stone!

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Frail Lucia of a mutual love!

Fair little winged cooing dove, Thou'st fluttered down from thy far dovecote, Awhile to nestle in earth's sweet grove.

Would it were sweeter, child, for thee-- Sweet as the silver-breaking sea (When Indian summer broods upon it) Doth flute and fife to the golden tree!

Thine angel listens for thy breath Whene'er he hears the wings of death, Looks in the Father's face and prayeth-- "For earth's sake spare her," he softly saith.