Poems of Passion Part 12

Still beautiful the way seems to mine eyes.

They said, "You are too jubilant and glad; The world is full of sorrow and of wrong.

Full soon your lips shall breathe forth sighs--not song."

The day wears on, and yet I am not sad.

They said, "You love too largely, and you must, Through wound on wound, grow bitter to your kind."

They were false prophets; day by day I find More cause for love, and less cause for distrust.

They said, "Too free you give your soul's rare wine; The world will quaff, but it will not repay."

Yet in the emptied flagons, day by day, True hearts pour back a nectar as divine.

Thy heritage! Is it not love's estate?

Look to it, then, and keep its soil well tilled.

I hold that my best wishes are fulfilled Because I love so much, and cannot hate.

RESOLVE.

Build on resolve, and not upon regret, The structure of thy future. Do not grope Among the shadows of old sins, but let Thine own soul's light s.h.i.+ne on the path of hope And dissipate the darkness. Waste no tears Upon the blotted record of lost years, But turn the leaf and smile, oh, smile, to see The fair white pages that remain for thee.

Prate not of thy repentance. But believe The spark divine dwells in thee: let it grow.

That which the upreaching spirit can achieve The grand and all-creative forces know; They will a.s.sist and strengthen as the light Lifts up the acorn to the oak tree's height.

Thou hast but to resolve, and lo! G.o.d's whole Great universe shall fortify thy soul.

AT ELEUSIS.

I, at Eleusis, saw the finest sight, When early morning's banners were unfurled.

From high Olympus, gazing on the world, The ancient G.o.ds once saw it with delight.

Sad Demeter had in a single night Removed her sombre garments! and mine eyes Beheld a 'broidered mantle in pale dyes Thrown o'er her throbbing bosom. Sweet and clear There fell the sound of music on mine ear.

And from the South came Hermes, he whose lyre One time appeased the great Apollo's ire.

The rescued maid, Persephone, by the hand He led to waiting Demeter, and cheer And light and beauty once more blessed the land.

COURAGE.

There is a courage, a majestic thing That springs forth from the brow of pain, full-grown, Minerva-like, and dares all dangers known, And all the threatening future yet may bring; Crowned with the helmet of great suffering; Serene with that grand strength by martyrs shown, When at the stake they die and make no moan, And even as the flames leap up are heard to sing:

A courage so sublime and unafraid, It wears its sorrows like a coat of mail; And Fate, the archer, pa.s.ses by dismayed, Knowing his best barbed arrows needs must fail To pierce a soul so armored and arrayed That Death himself might look on it and quail.

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

SOLITUDE.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go; They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all; There are none to decline your nectar'd wine, But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by.

Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure For a large and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.

THE YEAR OUTGROWS THE SPRING.

The year outgrows the spring it thought so sweet, And clasps the summer with a new delight, Yet wearied, leaves her languors and her heat When cool-browed autumn dawns upon his sight.

The tree outgrows the bud's suggestive grace, And feels new pride in blossoms fully blown.

But even this to deeper joy gives place When bending boughs 'neath blus.h.i.+ng burdens groan.

Life's rarest moments are derived from change.

The heart outgrows old happiness, old grief, And suns itself in feelings new and strange; The most enduring pleasure is but brief.

Our tastes, our needs, are never twice the same.

Nothing contents us long, however dear.

The spirit in us, like the grosser frame, Outgrows the garments which it wore last year.

Change is the watchword of Progression. When We tire of well-worn ways we seek for new.

This restless craving in the souls of men Spurs them to climb, and seek the mountain view.

So let who will erect an altar shrine To meek-browed Constancy, and sing her praise.

Unto enlivening Change I shall build mine, Who lends new zest and interest to my days.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "...AND LIGHT AND BEAUTY BLESSED THE LAND"]

THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF NOD.

Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear, Your head like the golden-rod, And we will go sailing away from here To the beautiful Land of Nod.

Away from life's hurry and flurry and worry, Away from earth's shadows and gloom, To a world of fair weather we'll float off together, Where roses are always in bloom.

Just shut your eyes and fold your hands, Your hands like the leaves of a rose, And we will go sailing to those fair lands That never an atlas shows.

On the North and the West they are bounded by rest, On the South and the East, by dreams; 'Tis the country ideal, where nothing is real, But everything only seems.