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Mrs Edna Smith-Deran and Daughter Norma 
 
TKe Da^vn of Day 
 
 BY 
 
 Edna Smith DeRan 
 
 Author of Verses by The Wayside; Am I My Brother's 
 
 Keeper; The Grief Shadow Between; The 
 
 Heritage of Hope; Etc. 
 
 PublisKed Ly the Author 
 
 203 W. Philadelphia Ave., Detroit, Mich. 
 
 1919 
 

 Copyright by the Author 
 1919 
 
 OCT 1 7 ,'919 
 
 ©CU536423 
 
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 5^ 
 
 i>» 
 
 TO MY PARENTS 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This book was written in the spare moments at 
 night, after each day's work had been done, and was 
 begun January first, and completed February fifteenth. 
 During this month and a half of writing I felt that 
 the dawn of a new day was at hand, but little realized 
 that it was the dawn of heaven's day for my dear 
 father who had given his sight for his country and 
 had lived in darkness so many years. 
 
 To me the greatest pleasure in writing this book 
 was in reading each morning my five or six poems, 
 that had been written the evening previous, to my 
 invalid mother and my blind father and then watch- 
 ing the expression on his face as he listened, and hear- 
 ing the comments of my dear parents. I am thankful 
 that he lived to hear it all read although he is not 
 with me to know what the world will say of my 
 effort. And yet, since he was a part of life, I feel that 
 life is a part of God and God cannot die. So in his 
 own way he will know if my effort will do that which 
 I have intended it to accomplish, — that is to make each 
 of my readers happier, better, braver to meet life's 
 tests. 
 
As you read my verses I want you to feel that a 
 sister is grasping your hand, looking into the depths of 
 your eyes and saying to you : Look up, for the sun is 
 shining behind every cloud ; lift up, for in lifting for 
 others you forget your own burden ; love all, for the 
 more you share your love with all, aye, even those who 
 have done you the greatest injury, the more does love 
 from all come back to you, shedding its glories along 
 your path, transforming life's "sorrows" into blessings. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Against the Grain 50 
 
 A Night in the Woods 154 
 
 As Big as We Plan 89 
 
 A Night on the St. Johns 69 
 
 At the End All is One 140 
 
 A Tribute to Ireland 133 
 
 A True Home is Blest 25 
 
 Autumn 163 
 
 Banish Extremes 46 
 
 Banish the Gulf 'Tween the Two 71 
 
 Be a Leader 76 
 
 Be a Sixty Power Light 80 
 
 By the Grasp of Your Hand 110 
 
 By Your Smile 104 
 
 Come, Oh My Love 40 
 
 Could We Forget 31 
 
 Desire Reveals Ability 79 
 
 Drifting 107 
 
 Discontent Causes Growth 102 
 
 Earth's Monarch Should Her People Be. . . .' 156 
 
 Enrolled For Service 63 
 
 Ever as the Oak 81 
 
 Every Crime Destroys More Edens than One 29 
 
 Every Knock is a Boost 36 
 
 Every Day 162 
 
 Faith Comes Through Thought 45 
 
 Friend Arise 41 
 
 Greatness Breeds in Thought 100 
 
 Great Thinkers Stand Alone 65 
 
 Hee Haw ! 131 
 
 If You Would Always Do the Right 121 
 
 Ireland 61 
 
 It Can't Be Did 106 
 
 "I Thought" 136 
 
 I Will Be Heard.... 119 
 
 Jekyl and Hyde 51 
 
 June 103 
 
 Keep Faith 101 
 
 Let's Bury the Bitter 123 
 
 Life is a Loom 97 
 
 Lift As If We Understood 86 
 
 Look Ahead 108 
 
 Love Has a Way. 2)7 
 
 Misery's Cry 48 
 
 My Island Out at Sea 34 
 
 My Native State 42 
 
 My Neighbor 'Cross the Way 116 
 
PAGE 
 
 My Soldier Laddie 159 
 
 Napoleon's Return 138 
 
 Night and You 59 
 
 October 87 
 
 Oh Love 120 
 
 One and Eighty 114 
 
 Our Bonny Red Flag 128 
 
 Out of Life's Travail Comes Truth 58 
 
 Pat's Christmas Theft 16 
 
 Pearls Before Swine 129 
 
 People Worth While 105 
 
 Perhaps 99 
 
 Sad Sounds the Wind 150 
 
 Share Every Good 158 
 
 Share God Given Wealth 83 
 
 Share the Joyous 54 
 
 Sing as You Go 47 
 
 Step Out With Your Cross 148 
 
 Sometimes 127 
 
 The Anniversary 165 
 
 The Anthem 93 
 
 The Autumn Days Have Come 14 
 
 The Dawning Day 161 
 
 The Dawn of Daj^ 11 
 
 The Dying Soldier 164 
 
 The Exiled Emperor 11 
 
 The Month of May 112 
 
 The New Year 149 
 
 The Pharisee Ill 
 
 There is a God 91 
 
 There is One Law 53 
 
 The Temptress 17 
 
 The Valley of Illusion 55 
 
 The Vow at Dawn 142 
 
 Thou Wilt Understand 67 
 
 'Tis Sabbath Morn Ti 
 
 Toil May Be Best 109 
 
 True Worth is Proved by Test 152 
 
 We Don't Need Grouches 126 
 
 We're but Human 145 
 
 What You Get from the World 125 
 
 When the Trees are All Barren 146 
 
 Worn Out Planks 75 
 
 You 18 
 
 You Cannot Serve Two Masters 39 
 
 You Get What You Give 33 
 
 10 
 
THE DAWN OF DAY 
 
 My eyes are growing weary with the woe I long have 
 
 seen; 
 My heart does ache with sorrow for the suffering that 
 
 has been. 
 I look far in the distance and I see an end of strife; 
 With hopeful heart I look afar and view the newer 
 
 Ufe. 
 
 I see no aged man refused an honest chance to work; 
 No gray-haired, hopeless, hungry, and there's none 
 
 who duty shirk. 
 I see no jails in which the men — my brothers — are 
 
 confined. 
 But homes of refuge for their need where all therein 
 
 are kind. 
 
 There are no cells in which the men are locked like 
 
 beasts of prey, 
 For they have vanished, aye long since ; for see ! 'tis 
 
 dawn of day — 
 A day in which but love shall rule and hate is swept 
 
 afar. 
 And law is not, for over all shines love, the morning 
 
 star. 
 
 11 
 
I look again : in homes of wealth no greedy masters, 
 
 see; 
 For all men work, and none are slaves since love has 
 
 set them free. 
 And in the shops and factories the anvils loudly ring; 
 While at their work I see men smile and, yes, I hear 
 
 them sing. 
 
 No children there with haunting eyes more fit for 
 
 pauper's graves. 
 As here with us today you see, for now we still have 
 
 slaves. 
 But all this wrong some day shall cease and greed be 
 
 swept away. 
 For looking far ahead I see this wondrous dawn of 
 
 day. 
 
 I look again to see my kind — my sisters — can it be? 
 Why they are fair to look upon ; no lust-slave do I see. 
 Not one among them can be found with eyes that 
 
 hungry wait 
 The coming of the man whom love will prove her 
 
 goodly mate; 
 
 No hell-begotten, law-protected red light district fills 
 The land with lust-seared wombs, or sex-robbed 
 
 women kills; 
 No blinded babes deprived of sight because of brute 
 
 man's lust; 
 For love but. claims and holds its own, and love is 
 
 cleanly, just. 
 
 12 
 
Law forces none to sell their souls for bread, for love 
 
 is free, 
 And yields its sweet embrace to none save those who 
 
 mated be, 
 And mated not by priestly cant, by priestly cant alone, 
 But when the pure heart calls, and love, yes true love 
 
 claims its own.* 
 
 No cross-crowned haunts of creed where priests can 
 
 satiate themselves. 
 And say with pagans old, "God blessed the deed," 
 
 while law (that delves 
 In rum-filled rooms and scenes of vice and, yes, in 
 
 every home) 
 In these retreats steps not. (Who is to blame, the 
 
 laws, or — Rome?) 
 
 My eyes had grown aweary, friends, of all our present 
 
 woe; 
 But now that I can look afar my heart but faith does 
 
 know. 
 And, knowing that this all can be, on bended knees 
 
 I pray: 
 God give me strength to write and work for this — the 
 
 dawn of day. 
 
 * In "Woman and Labor," by Olive Schreiner, she says: "That noble 
 as is the function of the Physical Reproduction of humanity by the 
 union of man and woman, rightly viewed, that union has in it latent, 
 other and even higher forms of creative energy and life dispensing 
 
 power, and that its history on earth has only begun." 
 
 13 
 
THE AUTUMN DAYS HAVE COME 
 AT LAST 
 
 The autumn days have come at last ; 
 
 In every wood and downy dell 
 The artist hand of nature's frost 
 
 Hath tinted all and painted well. 
 
 The autumn winds have wooed the blooms 
 Of summer's verdure from our sight ; 
 
 The wildwood's blush doth harmonize 
 With dying green, once richly bright. 
 
 Beneath my slow and careless feet 
 The tall, untrampled, toughened grass 
 
 Sinks low, as if 'tis first 'twas trod, 
 As through the woods I slowly pass. 
 
 The broken branches, fallen bark, 
 
 And leaves, conceal the hidden holes; 
 
 The clinging vines and verdant moss 
 Hug close the many stumps and knolls. 
 
 As autumn winds soft sigh and blow. 
 The sympathizing branches writhe 
 
 As if to join the harmony; 
 
 And younger growths and treelets lithe 
 
 14 
 
Sway to and fro. Oh, 'tis a joy 
 
 To tramp through haunts of fawn and doe, 
 And watch the silvered stream that flows 
 
 In rooted paths, 'neath branches low 
 
 (That bow and dip, o'er green-mossed beds) 
 Through rocky glens and greenish glades, 
 
 While softly moving, murmuring low. 
 
 As on it glides through tree-arched shades. 
 
 The up-peeled bark reveals where nuts 
 Have grown and now are lowly laid. 
 
 And guide the happy farmer lads 
 To where they soon will make a raid. 
 
 The chirping of the south-bound birds 
 Is sweet as to their mates they call. 
 
 Who but the poet ever tells 
 
 The wondrous beauty of the fall. 
 
 15 
 
PATS CHRISTMAS THEFT 
 
 You may talk of the right of the law, boys, 
 
 And it's not a denying I'd try; 
 But when Pat stole the food for his laddies, 
 
 I just said to myself: so would I. 
 For I know Pat was honest and faithful. 
 
 And he worked with his might night and day ; 
 But the women folks came with their pleading, 
 
 And so got his position and pay. 
 
 When a man has no learned profession. 
 
 Has a wife and small children to feed. 
 When he loses his job and his wages. 
 
 Life is dismal and dreary indeed. 
 And poor Pat knew the children were hungry. 
 
 And no money had he to buy food ; 
 All the windows looked tempting and tasteful. 
 
 And the counters' great burden looked good. 
 
 So he took of the grocerman's bounty, — 
 
 Call it stealing, my boys, if you will; 
 But that night his poor woman and children 
 
 Just had one good square meal, had their fill. 
 The next day at the judge's Pat pleaded 
 
 For mercy and said he would try 
 And repay all his debt. He was pardoned. 
 
 Said the judge : "Though you stole, so would I." 
 
 16 
 
THE TEMPTRESS 
 
 He brought me roses rare, 
 
 All golden as the sun, 
 And with their beauty at my breast 
 
 He swore allegiance until death do part. 
 But roses die. And so 'twas best 
 
 Our paths no longer one. 
 Yet mine is free and fair. 
 
 He brought me love so true. 
 
 Our Eden had its Eve. 
 And she, the temptress, held fruit fair 
 
 To see, but poisoned venom at the core. 
 And I — ah well !— I do not care. 
 
 Upon his brow toil sweat doth leave. 
 And in his cup is rue. 
 
 Now midst the tresses black 
 
 Creep silvered signs of sin; 
 And with her gaunt and thin-drawn smile 
 
 She tries to hide her load of lonely grief. 
 She reaps her harvest. The seeds were vile— 
 
 The seeds she sowed to win 
 Along her guilt-trod track. 
 
 The withered blooms have I 
 
 And freedom, love, and life; 
 While she has grief she tries to hide. 
 
 And scorn of those who know that right should 
 rule. 
 And in her sinful, lustful pride 
 
 She sits an unloved, guilt-cursed wife. 
 The world and he knows why. 
 
 17 
 
YOU 
 
 In the midst of life's dark turmoil, 
 When my heart was faint and weak, 
 
 When life seemed not worth the living, 
 And but surcease I did seek, 
 
 Sadly knelt I by my window, 
 Caring not for friends or kin ; 
 
 (Knew you e'er a heart so weary?) 
 I had tried but did not win. 
 
 I had held my high ideals 
 
 And had tried to make them true; 
 I had hoped, and prayed, and striven; 
 
 But my cup seemed filled with rue. 
 
 All my toils seemed wasted effort; 
 
 All my prayers but words in air ; 
 And to me it mattered little 
 
 If the day was foul or fair. 
 
 Sadly thus, and lonely, knelt I 
 Thinking over all my past; 
 
 Thinking how I hoped for heaven. 
 But a fate my hopes did blast. 
 
 ^ 3p 9^ ^ 3|£ 
 
 18 
 
My first few years were spent in daydreams; 
 
 My life was aimless, pliant, pure. 
 With naught to worry, naught to fret me; 
 
 That mode of life could not endure. 
 My girlhood burst to woman's blooming; 
 
 Ambitions came and all seemed fair ; 
 My hopes reached out to heights sublimest, 
 
 And barriers to that goal seemed rare. 
 
 Then so-called love was born ; and prudence, 
 
 (A thing unknown to lad or lass) 
 Ne'er bade me wait to test its living, 
 
 Or say : "This fancy soon will pass." 
 And so we two life's journey started; 
 
 My castles soon began to fall; 
 For there was discord in the music, — 
 
 Just a discord, that was all. 
 
 In some way what I grasped for failed me; 
 
 The azure skies seemed not so blue. 
 But, one day, I waked up akissing 
 
 Sweet nectared baby lips, — 'twas you. 
 And then once more I saw life's sunshine 
 
 Within the sweetness of your smile; 
 And then I lived for you, you only. 
 
 And worked for you, sweetheart, the while. 
 
 Oh how I hoped my old ideals 
 Would all be realized in you, — 
 
 Through you I'd win my long-sought glory, 
 A glory that is won by few. 
 
 19 
 
'Eva" — so the angels named you 
 
 As they laid you by my side ; 
 Just a tiny heaven-born being 
 
 To be mine through time and tide. 
 
 How my heart did wildly flutter 
 
 As I heard your first weak wail ; 
 Hours and hours I'd sit and watch you — 
 
 Born, a tiny being frail. 
 All the sky was robbed of azure 
 
 For the clear blue of your eyes 
 That so danced with childish gladness 
 
 And grew large with life's surprise. 
 
 Yes, the roses pink was stolen 
 
 And laid softly on your cheeks. 
 For a sweeter bloom you'd find not 
 
 Midst those blossoms if you'd seek. 
 All the goodness of my being 
 
 Through my breast to you I gave; 
 All the best of earth and heaven 
 
 I would for my darling save. 
 
 Bees would all have left the clover 
 
 Had they tasted of your lips; 
 But they knew not of the nectar 
 
 That a new made mother sips. 
 Sunshine faded into glimmer 
 
 When compared with your sweet smile 
 For the clouds oft hid the sunshine, 
 
 But your smile was all the while, 
 
 20 
 
Save perchance, when slumber gently 
 
 Hid the glory, closed each lid. 
 Still I knew the brightness lingered 
 
 For a time in dreamland hid. 
 Strangers oft would stop to greet you, 
 
 All so roguish was your glance ; 
 And they smiled, forgot their sorrow, 
 
 Just to see you laugh and dance. 
 
 As I listened to your cooing. 
 
 Ne'er to me were sounds so sweet; 
 Never touch to me so tender 
 
 As when mine your hand would meet. 
 Then, one day, I stopped to shudder 
 
 At my heart — held thought of hate 
 For the man whose name you bore, dear, 
 
 (Had you come to me too late?) 
 
 As each day that hate grew stronger, 
 
 Dearer to my heart you grew; 
 For the mother-love seemed only 
 
 Just the one fate gave to you; 
 And the sweetness of your chatter, 
 
 Which I hoped would still the strife. 
 Seemed but futile to win homeward 
 
 Him who still must call me wife. 
 
 Passion's poison surged all through him; 
 
 Sin-seared hands clung with their might 
 To his being, with lust cunning. 
 
 Dimmed his sight to truth and right. 
 21 
 
And your eyes with azure brightness 
 Could not hold when lust-eyes wooed, 
 
 Wooed and plead with cursed cunning, 
 While alone with me you cooed. 
 
 So again my home-hopes vanished. 
 
 Said I : "Craving heart, be still." 
 And I crushed the hate within me. 
 
 Hate for him. For love should fill 
 Hearts that mould the world's ideals. 
 
 Could I make you pure and sweet 
 With my heart half love, half hatred? 
 
 Bravely I that test must meet. 
 
 Like a pauper in a palace 
 
 Felt I when I first began the fight. 
 Few can know how great the struggle,- 
 
 Crushing hatred cause 'twas right. 
 But at last I won the victory; 
 
 Calm indifference filled my heart. 
 Then, then only, felt I rightly 
 
 You and I from him could part. 
 
 So I took you from that home-nest, 
 
 O'er the world we wandered lone; 
 For life held a past-dimmed pleasure 
 
 Everywhere that we would roam. 
 Time its fateful web was weaving — 
 
 Threads too strong for me to break; 
 But, with will perverse, my planning, — 
 
 Aye, my own way would I take. 
 
 22 
 
My rebellious heart was wayward, 
 
 You had grown to girlhood, too; 
 And, while loving, found your pleasures 
 
 'Mong your many friends so new. 
 So for me the hours dragged slowly, 
 
 Why should I thus lonely live; 
 While my heart was slowly starving 
 
 To be loved and love to give? 
 
 So I knelt down by my window 
 
 In the dusk of evening's gray. 
 Knowing, feeling that life's problem 
 
 I must solve ere close of day. 
 One by one the stars peeped softly 
 
 O'er the earth so dark tonight ; 
 Then I thought how lone and dismal 
 
 It would be without their light. 
 
 Yet through bitter darkness came they, — 
 
 Ah ! life's truth had come to me 
 In this sentence. Farewell longing. 
 
 Now for my life work I am free. 
 Those who would be leaders faithful. 
 
 They must stand alone and live. 
 Pass through darkness and life's bitter. 
 
 Ere true sympathy they give. 
 
 They must love yet have no idols, 
 
 And through love their hearts must bleed 
 
 Ere they can, with tender wisdom. 
 Know what human hearts most need. 
 23 
 
They must love yet know no answer, 
 
 If to lonely hearts they'd give 
 Comfort that will lift souls upward, 
 
 Courage that will help men live. 
 
 They must have love, strength, and courage. 
 
 These had all been given me; 
 I had passed through utter darkness. 
 
 Fought the fight and now was free, — 
 Free to win my great ambition, 
 
 That to help the world Fd live. 
 Live and love — not just one only, 
 
 But to all true love Fd give. 
 
 3|C 5jC ^ 3ft ^ 3jC 
 
 But I hear a gentle footstep, 
 Ah, the gloaming brings the dew, 
 
 And the stars have taught my lesson, — 
 And 'twas heaven gave me you. 
 
 24 
 
A TRUE HOME IS BLEST 
 
 "Blows the wind wildly? Then fasten the windows, 
 Make tight the doors and we'll sit near the fire, 
 
 Chatting, we all, till our eyes long for slumber. 
 Chatting and laughing till time to retire. 
 
 Here, mother darling, your footstool is waiting 
 Near your great armchair that sits at my side, 
 
 For I e'er miss you when you are not near me, — 
 Love you e'en more than when I made you bride. 
 
 Come, children, come; for your dishes look cleanly, 
 
 And our dear circle is never complete 
 If you should tarry and not be here with us. 
 
 Come, for our friend here would miss your smiles 
 sweet. 
 
 Turn the gas higher. Our grate must be glowing, 
 Giving forth welcoming warmth for the night. 
 
 There now, friend x\lbert, your pipe if you're choosing, 
 And in its smoke breed new visions so bright. 
 
 None of our pleasures can rival the hours 
 That we have spent in thus listening to you. 
 
 So we are waiting the story that's coming. 
 
 What shall it be? On some subject that's new?" 
 
 25 
 
"Tut, tut, friend of mine, you're o'er generous in 
 praising, 
 
 Though a good pipe, I'll admit, starts my dreams; 
 And you're good listeners. Sure 'tis no hardship 
 
 Dreaming aloud while the gas glows and gleams. 
 
 Alice, my friend, what would you my story? 
 
 Ah ! the pink rosebuds that creep to your cheek 
 Tell me quite plainly to love you'd fain listen. 
 
 Tell I of love that a lad went to seek. 
 
 Far in the south of the Buckeye state's beauty 
 
 Lived a young man who was aged twenty-three, — 
 
 Active and witty, though not blessed with wisdom, 
 Else this one story I'd not known you see. 
 
 Albert, for that was the name of my hero. 
 
 Cared not for books with their knowledge encased. 
 
 And, when his parents would send him to college, 
 Scolded and said, 'Tt is time gone to waste." 
 
 So he had drifted from shop to an office, 
 
 Where he oft met with companions quite gay, 
 
 Men who not always would choose their path wisely, 
 So it had led to their drinking one day. 
 
 Twitted they him for his lack of a sweetheart: 
 "Can't get a girl though they're plenty around;" 
 
 Said they in joking. He boastingly answered: 
 "I'll get one today. I'll hunt 'til one's found." 
 
 26 
 
So down the street he went staggering gaily, 
 Sidewalks were icy, his steps were not true ; 
 
 Some way he shpped breaking leg, and, unconscious, 
 Was carried by men to a home that was new. 
 
 Here a young lassie, with cheeks like the roses, 
 Eyes that were blue as the blue sky above, 
 
 Was his attendant and kindly she nursed him. 
 While, in his suffering, he dreamed not of love. 
 
 Hours grew swift into days — days of dreaming; 
 
 They became friends and the friendship grew fast. 
 Then, one day, Albert awoke from his reverie, 
 
 Knew he'd become a fond lover at last. 
 
 When he'd recovered and left the sweet lassie. 
 On her fair finger was seen a new ring. 
 
 And he had promised that nevermore liquor 
 To his red hps would he knowingly bring. 
 
 Then one bright May day when bells were a'ringing. 
 He and the lassie became husband and bride. 
 
 And through the many years lived they together, 
 Ever through sorrow and joy side by side. 
 
 Then when the rude hand of death claimed the lassie. 
 Came he, my hero, to live with his friend. 
 
 Where, midst the smoke of his pipe he builds fan- 
 cies, — 
 Fancies he hopes to sweet Ahce joys lend." 
 
 27 
 
Hushed was the voice of the speaker. Applauses 
 Greeted his ears, and he knew he had pleased. 
 
 Alice, the youngest, of ten and six summers. 
 Quickly leaned o'er and his hand gently seized. 
 
 "Oh, dear friend Albert, you know how to please us. 
 Always you tell us some story so dear ; 
 
 How I do wish I could tell you the pleasure 
 That you give all of us by being here." 
 
 "Aye, Albert, comrade," the master's voice added, 
 "Glad are we all for your presence each day. 
 
 Ah I the old clock chimes the hour of midnight. 
 So we will haste from our fireside away." 
 
 Then as the glow light dies out in the fireplace, 
 Each one to slumberland hies him to rest, 
 
 Thankful for home, and for family, and friendship, 
 For each one knew that a true home is blest. 
 
 28 
 
EVERY CRIME DESTROYS MORE 
 EDENS THAN ONE 
 
 The great realm of cause is the reahii oft unseen, 
 The realm of effect but too often we view ; 
 
 We make our own hell by our acts every day, 
 By merciful deeds do we make heaven too. 
 
 And be our acts kindly, or be they for ill, 
 
 They're not only ours, for they touch all that's near, 
 
 And injure or bless our companions around; 
 
 Then we should act wisely for the sake of those 
 dear. 
 
 The thief may oft suffer great tortures of mind, 
 But parents of his, perhaps, suffer far more 
 
 (Though innocent they) for the deed he has done. 
 They wanted their boy to be loving and pure. 
 
 Perhaps in their hearts they know why he sinned, 
 And, with parent love, they forgive him his crime. 
 
 But grieve they the less ? For the world sees the deed 
 And brands him a convict, though freed, for all time. 
 
 29 
 
Could people all know of the cause of most crime, 
 More mercy with verdicts I'm sure they would 
 show ; 
 
 For causes are ofttimes the part that's unseen, 
 And only results good or bad, do we know. 
 
 Then when we are tempted to yield to the wrong, 
 
 Let's stop to reflect, ere the deed has been done ; 
 That sin may be ours but our grief others share, 
 . Each crime will destroy far more Edens than one. 
 
 30 
 
COULD WE FORGET 
 
 This is the greatest tragedy of life : 
 
 Could we forget. 
 
 If we could pluck the fragrant rose, 
 
 Inhale its fragrance for the day, 
 
 Then toss aside the withered spray, 
 
 Forgetting it and go our way, — 
 
 But that — that withered lifeless thing — 
 
 Its cruel thorns so sharply sting. 
 
 (A dried up rose no odors bring.) 
 
 I take the withered, lifeless, scentless rose 
 
 And throw away. 
 
 Yet there before my view it ever lies. 
 
 The greatest tragedy of life is this : 
 
 Could we forget. 
 
 The love was won with plighted troth. 
 
 And he to me was king of men. 
 
 So when he plead, what could I then? 
 
 And there were letters from his pen, 
 
 And that which sparkled on my hand, — 
 
 Oh God ! I cannot understand 
 
 How he could woo with smiles so bland. 
 
 Then, for a day, beg back his ring once more 
 
 And go his way. 
 
 Yet he has gone. And I — I sit alone. 
 
 31 
 
The greatest tragedy of life is this: 
 
 Could we forget. 
 
 I burned the letters, every one. 
 
 Before my gaze the ashes lie. 
 
 Though far I swept them, back they fly. 
 
 Oh God ! I sometimes pray to die. 
 
 Though o'er the ocean I should flee, 
 
 Still even there those ashes be. 
 
 In dreams they're hunting, haunting me. 
 
 Oh that some cloud would bear me far away 
 
 Where they are not. 
 
 For memory does not kill but blurs the brain. 
 
 The greatest tragedy of life is this: 
 
 We can't forget. 
 
 Go where we will, that follows still; 
 
 And conscience binds one as its bride. 
 
 Go far on land, sail waters wide. 
 
 That withered thing is by my side. 
 
 Regret may come, but it will stay. 
 
 Brine tears will wash it not away. 
 
 The hours drag each night and day. 
 
 The dreary endless ache eats cankers sore 
 
 Deep in our hearts. 
 
 That rose, oh God, will never bloom again. 
 
 Sometime we'll lay life's burden down, 
 Then we'll forget. 
 
 Our cankered hearts will then beat not; 
 And that which now dost clutch and cling — 
 That lifeless, hateful, withered thing — 
 Will stingless thorns then to me bring. 
 32 
 
And then no more in dread I'll face 
 
 That hateful shadow. Then its place 
 
 Upon my heart I'll not efface. 
 
 For at life's end 'twill lie upon my heart, 
 
 And eat no more. 
 
 There at the end 'twill die upon my bier. 
 
 YOU GET WHAT YOU GIVE 
 
 You get from the world what you give it, my friend, 
 
 You reap but the harvest you sow; 
 Then learn this one fact, for 'tis potent for all, 
 
 And give naught but good as you go. 
 Give honesty, virtue, and words of good cheer. 
 
 And good must come back, friend of mine ; 
 Perchance not in your way, or just when you wish, 
 
 But sure in God's way, and God's time. 
 Then give to the world of your strength and your love. 
 
 For they were but loaned you the while. 
 You get from the world what you give to the world. 
 
 Then give kindly words and a smile. 
 
 ZZ 
 
MY ISLAND OUT AT SEA 
 
 Far out, far out 'mid emerald waves, 
 
 I have an island out at sea, 
 Where huts of poverty are not, 
 
 And where I breathe and can be free. 
 
 The roses in wild richness bloom ; 
 
 The tropic winds woo blossoms rare; 
 And when my heart grows sick with pain 
 
 I haste me to my island fair. 
 
 I list to songs of wind and wave 
 As they go sweeping gently by; 
 
 I wander o'er the sandy soil 
 
 And 'neath palmetto palms I lie. 
 
 The ocean's roar sobs me to sleep; 
 
 The salt winds woo my soul to rest. 
 I shut my heart to memory's claim 
 
 For one wee while, and know 'tis best. 
 
 For thus I gain new lease of life, 
 
 Through this sweet rest, from all the woe 
 
 That in the cities' mart of men 
 I daily meet, that hurts me so. 
 
 34 
 
For midst the lowly life I serve; 
 
 I try to seek my brothers' needs, 
 And cheer the saddened heart that aches, 
 
 And gives my days to Christlike deeds. 
 
 But sometimes sorrow sickens me. 
 So much I see ; and then once more 
 
 I sail out to my island home 
 And rest till sleeping time is o'er. 
 
 35 
 
EVERY KNOCK IS A BOOST 
 
 Each fall that we get means to rise up again. 
 Were paths for us smooth we would never be men. 
 For when we have risen we see our mistake, 
 Though over our error our hearts often ache. 
 Yet as we look back at the past do we know 
 Through falling and rising we all stronger grow. 
 Each knock is a boost could we only see clear, 
 Each foe is a friend that we never need fear. 
 
 For foes see our faults and quite gladly will say. 
 And though it oft hurts us, 'tis just for today. 
 The morrow will find us less prone to refuse 
 The verdict of those who w^ere glad to accuse. 
 Tis oft opposition but stimulates men 
 To struggle the harder with hand or with pen. 
 And thus they avenge their apparent defeat 
 By rising victorious their critics to meet. 
 
 Disraeli dared men to hold his force down. 
 And glad were they soon just to list without frown. 
 So fall not, my friends, lest your critics may sneer; 
 But falling, jump up. Push along. Never fear. 
 For he who ne'er falls never gets any place. 
 Should foes try to knock you, just smile in their face. 
 For know every knock is a boost to the strong. 
 Take courage. Keep going. You'll win out ere long. 
 
 26 
 
LOVE HAS A WAY 
 
 Love has a way, a secret way, of telling what it wills, 
 And love is wise and well it knows each heart with 
 
 joy it fills. 
 And though you say that love is blind, it always finds 
 
 a way 
 To capture, keep, and bind a heart, though force 
 
 would say it nay. 
 
 Love has its own — without one word — it has its silent 
 
 way 
 Of telling more by tender touch than all your words 
 
 could say; 
 For just one glance of love-filled eyes to love-filled 
 
 eyes can tell, 
 Can tell in volumes none may read save two who 
 
 love so well. 
 
 And e'en though smiles may lie between, and letters 
 be but few, 
 
 Love needs few words ; a line breathes all when hearts 
 are tender, true. 
 
 Love has its own, its silent way, of mating those un- 
 met ; 
 
 And soul v/ill claim its kindred soul, and watcli till 
 eyes are wet. 
 
 37 
 
For in this world environment oft binds with rods of 
 
 steel, 
 And heart may cling to heart though each its love for 
 
 each conceal, 
 Lest love revealed may injure those fate placed within 
 
 our hand, 
 But some day love will reign supreme, and both will 
 
 understand. 
 
 Love has its own, its silent way, of mending all that's 
 
 wrong ; 
 And love will wipe all tears away and make us pure 
 
 and strong. 
 And at life's end love's way will rule and hate will 
 
 ne'er more be ; 
 And since love rules, I will have you; and you, dear 
 
 heart, have me. 
 
 38 
 
YOU CANNOT SERVE TWO 
 MASTERS 
 
 You cannot serve Jesus and Mammon; 
 
 Two masters there never can be. 
 Do senses but govern your actions, 
 
 Or Ego, the soul, set you free 
 To live the divine that is in you? 
 
 Which one are you serving today? 
 The one holds you down to base passion. 
 
 All selfishly tread you life's way? 
 
 Each one has an Ego to guide you — 
 
 A part of you which is divine, 
 The part that e'er speaks through the conscience, 
 
 And puts from your hand sparkling wine. 
 The ego, the fraction, the unit. 
 
 The part of each one that e'er lives. 
 And, living, is God when completed; 
 
 So naught but love ego e'er gives. 
 
 The senses but cling for the selfish, 
 
 For appetite, lust, and for drink. 
 And clamor for all gilded pleasures; 
 
 So list to your conscience and think. 
 For yield you to senses' false clamor, 
 
 You serve but a force that's untrue. 
 You cannot serve God and serve mammon. 
 
 Then choose the right master, not two. 
 
 39 
 
COME, OH MY LOVE 
 
 Come, oh my love, to our old trysting place ; 
 
 Night's candles are brightly aglow; 
 Treetops are lending their shadows for us ; 
 
 I long for your love cooings low. 
 
 Linger not, darling, the hours have been long 
 Since you from my side went away. 
 
 Time since has. dropped a dark veil 'tween us two, 
 But now I can bid you come stay. 
 
 Violets close to earth's breast are in bloom. 
 
 All purple and yellow and white; 
 Their faces look up as if they know I wait 
 
 The coming of you, dear, tonight. 
 
 Hasten, my darling, my lips thirst for yours ; 
 
 My heart, dear, is starving yet true. 
 Life seems so lonely while you are away, 
 
 Aye, heaven would be drear without you. 
 
 Silent and breathless, the winds also wait; 
 An owl in the distance says, "Who?" 
 I smile in my scorn of his ignorant pate. 
 For who could it be, dear, but you ? 
 
 40 
 
Here in the gloaming I'll wait, dearest heart, 
 Yes, here 'neath the old trysting tree. 
 
 Heaven has lit all its candles for us. 
 Haste, Oh my darling, to me. 
 
 FRIEND, ARISE 
 
 Art thou roaming 
 
 Where the paths are rough and steep. 
 
 Just depending on thy strength and that alone ? 
 
 If thou art, thou'lt find thine eyes must weep 
 
 Over efforts futile. God must guide. No longer roam. 
 
 Art thou grieving 
 
 Over errors in the past? 
 
 Life's great tasks should not be seen through weeping 
 
 eyes. 
 Thy mistakes hath taught thee what was best. 
 Then look up and bravely fail no more. Oh friend, 
 
 arise. 
 
 Art thou sleeping 
 
 When in life there's much to do? 
 
 Dreamers never win the race. Oh friend, arise. 
 
 Of this world's great burdens bear your share. 
 
 Honors now will come alone to him who bravely tries. 
 
 41 
 
MY NATIVE STATE, OHIO 
 
 In the wild primeval forests worked our Buckeye boys 
 
 so brave; 
 Camped they by the huge logs blazing; dreamed, in 
 
 lights that log fires gave, 
 
 Dreams that grew to inspiration, for to dream meant 
 
 but to do; 
 So they laid the first foundation for old Buckeye state 
 
 so true. 
 
 Loud were heard the anvils ringing as men made their 
 
 tools of toil; 
 And their "Gee" and *'Whoa Haw" echoed as they 
 
 plowed the virgin soil. 
 
 And the women at their toiling, spun and wove and 
 
 cooked each day 
 In those old log huts now vanished. Ah, such things 
 
 have passed away. 
 
 They had jolly apple cuttings, and their husking bees 
 
 were great; 
 Oft 'twas there that lads and lassies plighted troth 
 
 and glad to mate. 
 
 42 
 
Home-made • wedding outfits : linen, sowed as flax, 
 
 spun, wove and made 
 By those lassies, blithe and bonnie, who of work were 
 
 ne'er afraid. 
 
 On old Maumee's banks contested all the right to that 
 
 northwest ; 
 Not one foot of soil was stolen from the Indians, for 
 
 'twas best 
 
 That our state should all be paid for in but honor's 
 
 way if we 
 In the future would reap glory. And our harvest now 
 
 you see. 
 
 For as days passed into seasons, and the seasons into 
 
 years. 
 Do we see Ohio glorious and for it we have no fears. 
 
 The Japanese word called "Ohio" means good morn- 
 ing, don't you see ? 
 
 And our state is just a dawning with its glory great 
 to be. 
 
 Aye, its fields have proved most fertile, and its mines 
 
 and wells unfold 
 Riches that in this, its morning, have not been sus- 
 
 picioned, told. 
 
 43 
 
Yes, our people sit with honor in positions that are 
 
 great ; 
 Seven have led this mighty nation, guided true our 
 
 ship of state. 
 
 Two Harrisons, Grant, Hayes, and Garfield, McKin- 
 
 ley, Taft, and don't you doubt 
 We've plenty more some day to honor the nation's 
 
 throne and wrong put out. 
 
 Yes, there is Croghan, Sherman, Corwin, and many 
 
 men we cannot name, 
 Who've made our nation's history glorious ; w^hose 
 
 names but add to Buckeye fame. 
 
 And so tonight we sing the praises of our birth state 
 
 good and great. 
 And may each person here add honor to our dear old 
 
 native state. 
 
FAITH COMES THROUGH 
 THOUGHT 
 
 There is one path by which faith comes, — 
 The path of thought that's free; 
 
 And research proves the true or false. 
 Faith comes with bended knee. 
 
 Compulsion never yet forced faith, 
 
 And nagging for the thing you'd have 
 
 Your final aim will hurt. 
 
 Unto tradition don't be bound; 
 
 For falsehood can't live long, 
 And truth will rise above the false 
 
 To crush out all the wrong. 
 Whene'er a slave begins to think. 
 
 Not long will he be bound ; 
 For thought will burst all fetters false 
 
 And truth, some day, gain ground. 
 
 When prisoners see the good beyond 
 
 The force that holds them in. 
 They'll tunnel through the deepest walls 
 
 And truth and freedom win. 
 Then what this world needs most of all 
 
 Is men the truth to teach, 
 And rouse the sluggish brains of all. 
 
 That faith may come to each. 
 
 45 
 
BANISH EXTREMES 
 
 He who would reformer be 
 
 Must recognize the rights of all, 
 
 And know the poor have right to joys 
 Which well he knows to them don't fall. 
 
 When we deprive them of this right, 
 
 We're thieves, — deny it if you dare. 
 
 Life's luxuries are made by them, 
 
 But still not theirs. Does this seem fair? 
 
 Did every man get what he earned. 
 
 And every man get that alone, 
 Such things as paupers, millionaires, 
 
 I'm sure would e'er remain unknown. 
 If a reformer true you'd be, 
 
 Then seek to banish these extremes. 
 Don't try to fill the world with hash 
 
 Of useless, paid-for, idle dreams. 
 
 A6 
 
SING AS YOU GO 
 
 Sing as you go though the path may be dreary; 
 
 Your journey will not seem so long. 
 For you will not easily tire when there's music ; 
 
 So sing as you're marching along. 
 
 Sing in the morning though duties are heavy; 
 
 Sing and the load will seem light. 
 Others may hear and be cheered by your music ; 
 
 Singing helps make the day bright. 
 
 Others around you may join in the music, 
 Forgetting their woes while they list; 
 
 So sing as you go and at eve you'll discover 
 By singing you've much sorrow missed. 
 
 Sing at the noon when the day's at its highest ; 
 
 Join in the chorus of birds ; 
 Some heart worn soul may then pause in his grieving 
 
 And leave thus unuttered sad words. 
 
 Sing when the sun has grown weary of shining, 
 And from our view sinks from sight; 
 
 Sing because heaven should ring with sweet music. 
 Sing and bring heaven each night. 
 
 47 
 
MISERY'S CRY 
 
 "Oh what is that cry that I hear all around, 
 That low muffled moan with its pitiful sound?" 
 Hush ! Hush ! Speak you low. That moan you will 
 
 find 
 The cry of the mammonish mills as they grind 
 
 Their grist of humanity — women and men — 
 (The truths are not spoken or oft told by pen.) 
 And all to be ground for the rich master's greed, 
 Who see such sad sights, yet such sounds do not heed. 
 
 Through hunger to factories the poor class is led, 
 Though factories and mills are but pressing blood red 
 From lives and from hearts of these human machines ; 
 Are crushing their hopes by fair and foul means. 
 
 When worn out they die by their masters unwept; 
 Were they steel they'd be cared for, aye, carefully 
 
 kept, 
 Be valued, protected by every wise plan, 
 But they're insignificant things known as ''man." 
 
 They're just human beings. Why, there's plenty more. 
 Machinery costs gold, and men don't, that is sure. 
 The Rooseveltian creed of large families is fine. 
 The poor know the Bible. "To rear is divine." 
 
 48 
 
"Replenish the earth." Let your babes homes adorn. 
 (More children, more gold.) Let more babies be 
 
 born, 
 For children are useful when parents may shirk, — 
 That moan comes from men too enfeebled to work. 
 
 They've done their last stroke at the factory this day. 
 They're dragging their worn weary bodies away. 
 "We've paid them their wages; what could they ask 
 
 more 
 
 "Not wanted." "Too old ! We've women galore." 
 
 "Men should not get hungry when they have grown old 
 Then come to us masters for work. Tis too bold." 
 "I've business to 'tend to, so please step aside. 
 The poor house I'm sure has its doors open wide." 
 
 So that's why these men are now looking forlorn. 
 They're still men, tho' aged, and charity scorn. 
 They're willing to work to get food and their clothes. 
 But where can they go? Aye, 'tis "God only knows." 
 
 And yet God does reign. And this fact don't refuse: 
 In churches the masters all sit in front pews. 
 So why should they list to this moaning today? 
 And what will you do. Christian friends, tell I pray? 
 
 And how will you help, for you hear all this wail? 
 Now help, or don't criticise truths in this tale. 
 You know it's all true. So deny if you dare. 
 Go live you your creed. Make poverty rare. 
 
 49 
 
AGAINST THE GRAIN 
 
 One day as I was walking down the street, 
 
 (Oh this was 'bout a year ago, I think,) 
 I met a man who staggered as he walked. 
 
 No need be told that he had had a drink. 
 I listened to his musings as he passed ; 
 
 (To tell you all I must refrain,) 
 But this I heard : "Ah, 'tis a wicked law. 
 
 I tell ye, boys, it goes against the grain." 
 
 And then I thought: a foolish man is he 
 
 To want the thing that can but injure so. 
 Alas! we all, perhaps, are children still. 
 
 For what is best for us we oft don't know. 
 And stomach, brain, with useless stuff we fill ; 
 
 No warnings heed, but seek for more again. 
 And peevish grow, and by our actions say: 
 
 "I tell ye, boys, it goes against the grain." 
 
 fo me you often say: "Write jolly stuff. 
 
 And we will buy the books you write and smile.' 
 Too well I know the world is tired of woe. 
 
 And realize 'tis joy makes life worth while. 
 But life's great wrongs and wit don't easy mate, 
 
 And 'tis the errors that I would restrain. 
 So like the drunkard, when you ask for wit, 
 
 I tell ye, boys, it goes against the grain. 
 
 50 
 
JEKYL AND HYDE 
 
 Often it seems as I go through the streets, 
 
 I meet with both Jekyl and Hyde; 
 For some that I know in their homes are not Hke 
 
 Themselves when they're covered with pride. 
 One neighbor I know is both forty and fat ; 
 
 Gray hair and complexion of brown; 
 Friend husband comes home at the close of the day, 
 
 Ofttimes he is met with a frown. 
 
 And yet if you asked did she love her man true, 
 
 I'm sure she would answer you yes; 
 And lest you might think her not telling the truth, 
 
 I think that she does, I confess. 
 She takes it for granted he knows of her love, 
 
 Her worries 'bout home take her mind; 
 And when he comes in she those woes will relate. 
 
 (There are many such women you'll find.) 
 
 But watch as she goes down the street shopping day. 
 
 She's laced till you scarce see the fat; 
 Her dress is so short you would think she's sixteen ; 
 
 She wears a large blue picture hat. 
 Her hair is the color of ravens that fly, 
 
 Her cheeks are as pink as a rose; 
 Complexion has changed to the tint of a babe's, 
 
 She looks like ''some swell" — that she knows. 
 
 51 
 
She goes to hub's office, she smiles and she smirks; 
 
 The clerks oft with envy look wise; 
 The sweetest of smiles she gives (for a ten) ; 
 
 'Twas Cupid such snares did devise. 
 I say to myself : 'tis a Jekyl and Hyde ; 
 
 But I'm not the one to complain ; 
 And lest you should think I'm a critic severe, 
 
 From expressing more thoughts I'll refrain. 
 
 52 
 
THERE IS ONE LAW AND THAT 
 IS LOVE 
 
 There is one law and that Is love, 
 And every thought opposing this 
 
 Will bring a penalty to us. 
 
 'Twas Judas gave our Christ a kiss. 
 
 But that one kiss a falsehood was, 
 And for each wrong a price is paid; 
 
 And Judas symboUzes sin; 
 
 This verdict on his head was laid. 
 
 All errors come through ignorance. 
 
 So we must all forgiving be ; 
 Did Christ chide Judas for his sin? 
 
 Nay, nay. Then let's be wise as He. 
 
 We know the traitor paid his debt. 
 The sin was his, the suffering too. 
 
 Without the Christ condemning once. 
 We'll suffer for each wrong we do. 
 
 The God-made law of love should guide; 
 
 Revenge should live not in our brain ; 
 For when it does we place ourselves 
 
 With him we hate, and love is slain. 
 
Aye, every deed opposing love 
 
 Will bring but sorrow through the years ; 
 Let's have one law — love's law — that one; 
 
 Then we need shed no bitter tears. 
 
 SHARE THE JOYOUS 
 
 If you know a song that's joyful 
 Sing it, sing it loud and clear. 
 Let's omit the songs that sadden; 
 Sing instead the ones to gladden; 
 For the world is dark and drear. 
 
 Do you know a thought that's pleasant? 
 
 Tell it; kept it does no good. 
 
 Share it. Share with those who sorrow; 
 
 They will bless you on the morrow; 
 
 Tell all pleasant thoughts. You should. 
 
 ^ r 
 
 Do you know a joke thafs witty? 
 
 Tell it, let us laugh a while; 
 
 For the world is crushed with sorrow 
 
 And we need brave souls to borrow 
 
 Mirth to scatter, so we'll smile. 
 
 Can't you give a hearty handgrasp? 
 
 Hearts are lonely 'long life's way. 
 
 Let's forget all that annoys us. 
 
 Seek and share all that is joyous. 
 
 Cheer your comrades, friends, I pray. 
 
 54 
 
THE VALLEY OF ILLUSION 
 
 There is a vale wherein men walk at large 
 And breathe the breath of life, yet they live not, 
 For life is growth in all its fullest sense, 
 Not merely eat, and sleep, and drink. I sought 
 This vale. 'Tis called the Valley of Illusion. 
 
 I sought because it seemed no task to go 
 
 Adown its paths with throngs of happy men 
 
 And women who looked bright. But as we went 
 
 The glitter seemed but gilded gloss. And then 
 
 I asked my friends : "What is this Valley of Illusion ?" 
 
 And one, in passing by, my query heard, 
 And, though his way was not my own, replied : 
 "Oh youth beware ! the path looks good today, 
 Tomorrow much now bright will be denied. 
 If thou, oh friend, wilt see the Valley of Illusion. 
 
 The seeming truth will bugbears be erelong 
 
 To sear thy soul and cause thee to regret 
 
 Thy thoughtless wish to tread the common path 
 
 Of most. With faith turn back, Oh friend, while yet 
 
 Thou hast the power. Avoid the Valley of Illusion." 
 
 55 
 
I turned as if I would retrace my steps. 
 The path looked steep and few were going back, 
 And I like not to tread life's path alone, 
 So, heeding not his words, resumed the track 
 That led me down into the Valley of Illusion. 
 
 But soon the skies grew dark with mystery. 
 And those who at the start had preached of creeds 
 Seemed now like hungry beasts at throats of each, 
 And not like humans, judging by their deeds 
 Along the winding way to Valley of Illusion. 
 
 And then I wondered if all things were false. 
 And yet, back there, I knew that love was true. 
 What need of creeds, and vales to be explored, 
 And strange new friends, when such a love I knew 
 Before I started to the Valley of Illusion? 
 
 And so I said farewell to creed-crossed friends 
 And turned my steps back toward love and light. 
 My way was sore beset, and lone I trod. 
 For to retrace my steps took strength, meant fight. 
 For most were going to the Valley of Illusion. 
 
 I brushed the cobwebs from my palsied brain 
 And saw achievement comes from work well-done. 
 Not drifting idly with the stagnant mass. 
 I knew the crown to truth eternal must be won 
 By marching upward from the Valley of Illusion. 
 
 56 
 
And so I bore my cross with thorn-pierced hands. 
 The soured sponge of critics oft brought tears — 
 For I was human. Yet within my soul 
 I knew the truth ; so crushed the doubt and fears 
 I learned while traveling to the Valley of Illusion. 
 
 The scornful smile of former friends I met, 
 But kindly met them, met with smiles of peace. 
 'Twas hard, the scathing scorn of those most dear, 
 And yet, that was my cross that would release 
 Me from the false learned in the Valley of Illusion. 
 
 For now I knew wrong steps must be retraced. 
 In silence up and onward e'er I trod. 
 A secret hand seemed leading me. And peace 
 Filled all my heart. It was the gift of God. 
 So must each soul pass upward from the Valley of 
 . Illusion. 
 
 57 
 
OUT OF LIFE'S TRAVAIL COMES 
 TRUTH 
 
 Out of the depths of the boundless deep sea 
 
 Comes precious pearls of great price. 
 Out from the depths of great sorrows brave borne 
 
 Comes to the world best advice. 
 
 Aye, 'tis the hand that has fought battles best, 
 
 Strongest to win victories new. 
 He who has grieved not poor pity can give — 
 
 Sympathy, genuine, true. 
 
 Christ's bleeding hands from the cross could reach out 
 
 Taking the w^orld in His grasp. 
 His sour-sponged lips asked forgiveness for all, 
 
 That in His love all might bask. 
 
 Out of the gutter-soaked mire oft comes strength. 
 
 Falsehood, when freed, breeds the true. 
 Growth must be upward and goodness must rule. 
 
 Mercy should guide us all through. 
 
 Though you may stand all alone in your grief, 
 
 For each alone makes his fight. 
 Know that from life's greatest travail comes truth. 
 
 Truth must e'er win. Right is might. 
 
 58 
 
NIGHT AND YOU 
 
 What though the day may be lonely and drear, 
 Night slowly comes and then you, love, are here. 
 
 Night ends the sunshine and shadows appear; 
 
 Darkness may come but the night brings what's dear. 
 
 Hours of daylight may drag one by one. 
 
 But evening hours for me travel fast ; 
 Then's when I have you and hold you, my own. 
 
 Have you and keep you till darkness is past. 
 
 It matters little what duties may come 
 
 All through the day if at night I am free, 
 
 Free to clasp you to my heart, husband mine; 
 Night is love's heaven for you and for me. 
 
 Days may bring sorrow and days may bring joy; 
 
 It matters little since you are away. 
 Joy I would share with my darling so true; 
 
 Grief I would keep from your life night or day. 
 
 Sometimes I sit in the sunshine and think. 
 What if you came not at dusk back to me; 
 
 What if your dear precious body lie cold, 
 Still in a grave neath the earth or the sea. 
 
 59 
 
What would life hold that would tempt me to live, 
 Live by my wish ? Oh I know there is naught 
 
 In all this world that would take your dear place, 
 Live in the shrine of my heart and my thought. 
 
 For I e'er try to give all but my best, 
 Sharing with all every treasure I own, 
 
 Lifting the lowly, and cheering the sad. 
 
 Giving but sunshine, and stifling each moan. 
 
 Still in my heart do I know why I try. 
 For the prime motive of all that I do — 
 
 (Though it be wrong — ^yet God knows it is so) 
 Is that I may, dear, be worthy of you. 
 
 What though the day may be darkened by clouds ; 
 
 Night skies are bright, dear, and love's skies are 
 blue. 
 Sorrow can claim me not long in its clutch 
 
 If, at the dusk of each day, I have you. 
 
 60 
 
IRELAND 
 
 Tonight would we list to a nation's sad story; 
 
 List to the tales of the Emerald Isle. 
 The island of shamrocks, and woodbine and roses; 
 
 Of wit that can make this old dreary world smile. 
 
 Its fields are bedecked with the sweet blooming prim- 
 rose; 
 
 On Sligo's bleak shore is Tuatha's lone grave — 
 (A sacred old mound made in Ireland's first history) 
 
 Caressed by the sunshine, unwashed by the wave. 
 
 The moats and the castles, the walls and the towers, 
 The moss-covered rocks and the bastions so strong, 
 
 The much-kissed old blarney stone standing so famous, 
 All give to the poet reflection for song. 
 
 In dreams did St. Patrick first see the word-token : 
 "The voice of the Irish." It called and called true. 
 
 The voice of the Emerald Isle is still calling, 
 With faith that is seen in few countries, aye few. 
 
 Alas it was forced to submit to old England; 
 
 Its shores were invaded by tyranny, greed. 
 Though many the day it has hungered and suffered. 
 
 Its hope ne'er was vanquished through hunger or 
 need. 
 
 61 
 
Though England has handled the harsh rod of power, 
 We know that lone power does not make wrong 
 right. 
 
 "Ould Ireland" is brave and will fight for her freedom 
 And time will but prove in the end right is might. 
 
 Oh mothers of Ireland, your sons are not cowards, 
 For history has proved them most loyal and brave. 
 
 They could not be thus were you not true in teaching. 
 Not thus except for the strength that you gave. 
 
 The fact that to country your sons were so loyal, 
 The fact that to creed, too, they ever were true. 
 
 Regardless of tyranny terrible, crushing, 
 
 Reflects, oh brave mothers, an honor for you. 
 
 We hope that your freedom will soon be established; 
 
 We know of your longing, we know of your fear; 
 We hope that the days of your thraldom are over, 
 
 That freedom and glory for Ireland are near. 
 
 Your flag, dear old Ireland, oh brave, greed-crushed 
 Ireland, 
 
 Should float in the breezes its colors each day; 
 And when you shall start as a free new republic, 
 
 I'm sure we will wish you Godspeed all the way. 
 
 62 
 
ENROLLED FOR SERVICE 
 
 "Enrolled for service during war." 
 Why not enrolled for God in peace? 
 The men who willingly would fight 
 
 Should be enrolled when war shall cease. 
 
 The Savior came to serve the world. 
 
 Let us be minute men each day. 
 Not grumblers at our humble tasks 
 
 Awaiting some great war-like fray. 
 
 The blind but wait the war to serve, 
 
 Then shame the slacker who loves peace. 
 
 The Christian slacker is far worse 
 
 Than those who ask from war release. 
 
 Oh let's enroll for service now, 
 
 By loving let us learn to live, 
 And gladly give the world our best. 
 
 If we'd receive, we first must give. 
 
 There's ever work our hands can do; 
 
 There's always some sad soul to cheer. 
 We need not wait for war to come. 
 
 For war 'gainst wrong is always here. 
 
 63 
 
Oh let's reflect the Father-love. 
 
 Let's live the Jesus-life each day. 
 And he who asks help for himself 
 
 Must live for others 'long life's way. 
 
 Are we enrolled for service true? 
 
 Do we each day do all we might? 
 Let's place love's star upon our brow, 
 
 And live for love, and peace, and right. 
 
 64 
 
GREAT THINKERS STAND ALONE 
 
 The man who dares to see the wrong 
 And to the world its wrongs dare tell, 
 
 Must stand alone upon the cross, 
 
 While thoughtless would-be critics yell. 
 
 The man who strives to make men free, 
 Shall drink the cup of scorn and hate. 
 
 It hurts mankind to know its faults, 
 For ignorance and greed will mate. 
 
 Alone upon the cross Christ stood, 
 
 They exiled German Heine too; 
 While Voltaire graced the French bastile, 
 
 And Paine scarce dared to speak the true. 
 
 Somnambulists, perhaps, are free 
 
 From critics' scathing tongue; 
 Or those who marched like driven beasts, 
 
 With names unknown, and songs unsung. 
 
 But speak of master-greed and graft, 
 Your life in danger you will place; 
 
 And scathing tongues will yelp and yell. 
 And calumny you oft must face. 
 
 65 
 
The Christ of Gahlee cared not, 
 
 But daily went upon his way. 
 Life's leaders bravely march right on, 
 
 Nor heed the mocking mobs that stray. 
 
 To noble men it matters not 
 
 If fame doth tarry with the years ; 
 
 They work for right — not praise, not gold. 
 That time proves truth they have no fears. 
 
 So if a leader you would be, 
 
 Prepare to walk through life alone, 
 
 And meet with envy, jeers, and scorn; 
 But you shall win when truth is known. 
 
 66 
 
THOU WILT UNDERSTAND 
 
 To thee, who, reading deep beneath the surface 
 Of my words, can see a message meant 
 Far more than pleasure, aye, to thee I speak: 
 For thou, aye, such as thou, must read, and learn, 
 And lift. The simple joys that please the most 
 Are nothing in thy life. The trivial griefs 
 Which bring forth tears from many eyes so oft. 
 Will not be thine. Or, being thine, will pass 
 Unseen by thee. But in thy heart of hearts 
 Will live the message. 
 
 Thou wilt see the real — 
 
 The greater grief of all mankind. Thou'lt see 
 The blindness that doth make men move so slow. 
 And stumble by the way. And all their hurts 
 Will reach thy heart, and sting, yet pierce thee not 
 To death. For thou wilt know, and understand. 
 
 Thou'lt know that falls for some will but rebound 
 
 And place the stumbler on his feet again 
 
 More watchful. Yet to some a fall will mean 
 
 Position prone with life, ambition, crushed; 
 
 Till midst the ruins there remains but IT — 
 
 The spark, the real, the thing that cannot die. 
 
 The while the world will say : *' 'tis dead," and scorn 
 
 Its dust. 
 
 67 
 
Then thou, aye, thou wih reach thy hand 
 
 In waiting patience, till the time is ripe 
 
 To lift. Then thou wilt give thy hand and smile, 
 
 And from the warmth of this, thy grasp, the IT 
 
 (Which after all is only part of that 
 
 In thee which never dies) will rise to meet 
 
 Its other parts. And meeting, slow but sure, 
 
 Not as man plans, perhaps, but in ITS way 
 
 And in ITS own good time. For IT is God. 
 
 And God is good. And in the end good rules. 
 
 So 'tis for this thou hast been given the power 
 To understand, to see the germ within 
 The rugged null, the deeper truth beneath 
 The seeming siinple lines. And so to thee 
 I speak. And thou wilt hear. And understand. 
 
 68 
 
A NIGHT ON THE ST. JOHN'S RIVER 
 
 Oh silent, silvered stream, that midst the fragrance 
 
 flows 
 Adown thy palm-decked path to where the ocean clasps 
 Thee in its broadened breast to lie in sweet repose, 
 Upon thy flowing tide tonight my boat doth glide. 
 
 The towering pines and palms like giant guards doth 
 
 stand 
 And waft the southern breezes o'er thy waters warm. 
 The orange groves, that bend beneath their weight of 
 
 gold. 
 And drop their yellowed burden on thy banks, but vie 
 In beauty with the many oleander blooms. 
 The sturdy oaks, whose towering tops but bend to meet 
 The leaning tips of aged oaks across the stream, 
 Form nature's arch beneath the which our boat doth 
 
 pass. 
 Dame Nature hath festooned o'er all these tropic 
 
 trees 
 The southern moss that falls in graceful folds. 
 And lest the southern lad and lass might bashful grow. 
 Now here, now there, the white balled mistletoe is 
 
 seen. 
 And holly trees, with scarlet berries, brighten all. 
 Mere words paint not the beauty of the southern rose 
 
 69 
 
That climbs and clings with thorny sweetness o'er the 
 
 walls 
 In sweet abandon, fearing neither frost nor cold. 
 Thy narrowed channel thus is arched by wondrous 
 
 growths 
 Unknown to northern climes. While just beyond thy 
 
 banks 
 Are flock-decked fields of colors dainty, rare; and rich 
 Perfume from tropic blooms, and citrus blossoms 
 
 w^hite 
 Sweet scents the air. 
 
 The while the heart of thee, oh stream, 
 
 Grows broader as the goal to which thou flowest, 
 
 seems 
 More near. Aye, yonder in the distance city spires 
 Are towering high. And boats salute, in passing, each 
 As on their way they sail. The moon has gone to sleep. 
 The sky has snuffed its candles for the coming day. 
 Now as we reach the city's shore we greet the dawn. 
 
 The rush and bustle on the boat, as men grab trunks, 
 And women seek their men to land, is urgent proof 
 That night dreams on St. John's is o'er. So once 
 
 again 
 We start the duties of the day, and bid farewell 
 To this — the river queen of all the sunny south. 
 
 70 
 
BANISH THE GULF 'TWEEN THE 
 TWO 
 
 An ideal nation we never will have 
 
 As long as we have two extremes. 
 Reform is but real when it lessens the gap 
 
 Between the two classes, it seems. 
 
 The increase in wage should be greater by far 
 
 Than increase in profits you see, 
 And if you would lessen the gulf 'twixt the two. 
 
 Then you should wise voters all be. 
 
 Go banish this system that widens the gap 
 
 And crushes the poor in its mesh; 
 Where food is so dear that the poor scarce can live,— 
 
 Where nothing is cheap but man flesh. 
 
 As long as we cling to this system of greed 
 We know that the one class will slave; 
 
 The rich men grow richer, while poor will be poorer,— 
 This system, your voting wrong, gave. 
 
 As long as this system of profit remains, 
 
 It proves you are not wide awake. 
 You poor will be servants; the greedy will grab; 
 
 Political fakers will fake. 
 
 71 
 
The rich men don't keep this old system alone, 
 
 For you — -you the masses — help hold, 
 And by your consent do you share in the guilt. 
 
 Though often your wrong you've been told. 
 
 When some can spend thousands on luxuries rare, 
 While thousands of men beg for food ; 
 
 I'm sure if you think you'll agree with me, friends, 
 That most of our law is not good. 
 
 Oh ignorant souls, it is yours to be free ; 
 
 It is yours this old system to crush ; 
 Then banish the gulf 'twixt the two by your vote, 
 
 And misery's cry you will hush. 
 
 Oh men, rise and think. Don't be brainless machines, 
 
 For you a majority stand; 
 And you, the majority, can rule if you wish. 
 
 Your freedom lies there in your hand. 
 
 72 
 
'TIS SABBATH MORN 
 
 'Tis Sabbath morn, the day when weary men should 
 
 rest; 
 And o'er all nature rings the harmony of bells 
 That bid the would-be pure of heart to worship Him. 
 
 Oh sacred morn, that calls a halt to greed and vice ! 
 
 For on this day at least, 'twere wise to see the good 
 
 And list as if the words thou hearest may be true. 
 
 For who can tell? Perchance those words may lift 
 thee up 
 
 Above the mire in which thy soul hath sunk of late. 
 
 And though the words of priests but foolish mocking 
 seem, 
 
 There may, perhaps, fall on thine ear a message meant 
 
 For thee, to lift thee, rouse thee from thy lethargy. 
 
 For never sermon preached but had some good within 
 
 Its words, some good that thou couldst carry 'way 
 with thee. 
 
 Didst thou but seek for good. But shouldst thou si- 
 lent list 
 
 With scorn for faults, for unbelief, for that which 
 seemed 
 
 But foolish to thy mind, with thee thou wilt not take 
 
 That which was meant — a Sabbath message. And to 
 thee, 
 
 73 
 
This Sabbath morn, this sacred morn, will be in vain. 
 And thou shouldst cry at eventide, "Perdidi diem."* 
 
 And yet thou canst atone thy fault, for every morn 
 Doth bear its sacred lesson. God's own message falls 
 O'er all the earth each morn, and noon, and night. 
 
 And thou. 
 In having missed what thou shouldst had this Sabbath 
 
 morn, 
 Must, aye, atone and learn all good. For not one 
 
 heart 
 Shall live in ignorance of truth, and love, and good. 
 E'en shouldst the veil, that but divides hereafter from 
 
 the now. 
 Be drawn aside ere thou dost learn, aye, even then 
 'Tis thine to know, and grow. For thou sometime 
 
 must learn. 
 
 And so this Sabbath morn 'twere better list with mind 
 Unbiased by the base. E'en though the creeds for thee 
 Have no appeal, yet, shouldst thou in the temple sit. 
 Seek that which seems the best and take it as thine 
 
 own. 
 All good is thine, just waiting, waiting for thy grasp. 
 Then let the good of Sabbath morn sink in thine heart. 
 And guide thee in thy actions all the coming week. 
 
 * When the Emperor Titus passed a day in which he had neither 
 learned anything nor done any good, he would exclaim at night, 
 "Perdidi diem." 
 
 74 
 
WORN-OUT PLANKS 
 
 We often hear some men declare 
 
 They know what they're about, 
 And if you tell them something new, 
 
 They'll only laugh and scout. 
 They're doing as their fathers did. 
 
 To you they give no thanks. 
 For what is new, the while you say : 
 
 Beware of wornout planks. 
 
 Such men are holding progress back; 
 
 On horse cars they should ride, 
 Smoke corncob pipes, wear old-time boots. 
 
 In old log huts abide. 
 But do you ever notice, boys. 
 
 As to the strap they hold ; 
 They're first to grumble 'bout a seat. 
 
 Or scold cause cars are cold. 
 
 x\nd yet their fathers walked for miles 
 
 Through mud and slush and snow; 
 These men should never once complain, 
 
 But like their fathers go. 
 When they refuse election day 
 
 New platforms to support. 
 Just chase them off the street cars new 
 
 And chasing just exhort: 
 
 75 
 
"The cars are made for men today, 
 
 And not for old-time cranks. 
 Kick off your boots or wade through mud, 
 
 Since you want old-time planks. 
 If you would ride with us, old boy, 
 
 E'en though you call us cranks ; 
 Then read and vote what's good for all. 
 
 Beware of wornout planks." 
 
 BE A LEADER 
 
 Make your own destiny. Choose your own road. 
 
 Tho it be great ever bear your own load. 
 
 Follow the multitude not hke a sheep. 
 
 Be your own master. Your own conscience keep. 
 
 Doubt not your power to march forth alone 
 
 When others falter; the strength is your own. 
 
 All the world heroes have pushed on ahead. 
 
 Be your own leader. Don't be the led. 
 
 Force not the world to march onward with you ; 
 
 Maybe your pathway for them is not true. 
 
 Let your light shine. Make your pathway so bright 
 
 The world will all follow when it sees you are right. 
 
 76 
 
THE EXILED EMPEROR 
 
 And this to thee ! — Oh once loved king, 
 Where men were wont to bend the knee 
 
 In humble worship at thy throne, 
 And yet an exile's death for thee. 
 
 Couldst thou have seen where love of self, 
 And self alone, w^ould lead, wouldst thou, 
 
 More cunning, strive thyself to crown, 
 And at thy throne ask man to bow? 
 
 Couldst thou have known thy lonely fate, 
 Wouldst thou have crushed all else that lay 
 
 'Tween thee and that ambitious greed? 
 Wouldst thou have crushed all in thy way ? 
 
 Thy mighty scepter and thy sword 
 Swayed at thy domineering will; 
 
 And thou didst bathe the world with blood. 
 To call it thine, and thou didst kill. 
 
 Yet none, save kind like thee, rejoice 
 In looking over blood-decked lands. 
 
 And lifeless men, and armless sons. 
 
 And teening boys with stumps for hands, 
 
 77 
 
And childless women, orphaned babes, 
 
 And fields that flow with blood like wine, 
 
 And hunger, tears, and hate, and grief — 
 Just for the right to say "all mine." 
 
 There's not a kingly soul that, calm, 
 Could crush a noble woman's heart 
 
 And thrust aside a wealth of love. 
 
 That thou hadst sworn "till death do part," 
 
 For that one selfish wish, — an heir. 
 
 A bride — alas — was naught to thee, 
 Since she was sonless. 'Twas thy pride. 
 
 Thy wicked pride — that would be free. 
 
 And thou that cast away a wife 
 
 To win an heir, then be it so. 
 Thy country casts aside its king, 
 
 Thou reapest what thy hand did sow. 
 
 Men gave their lives that thou might rule. 
 And for those men thou shedst no tear ; 
 
 Then when an exile's grave is thine, 
 Why shed our tears o'er thy lone bier? 
 
 The power was thine. Thou sought for more. 
 
 The world thy selfish greed knows well. 
 And yet thy life was not in vain. 
 
 Thy life and death great lessons tell. 
 
 78 
 
DESIRE REVEALS ABILITY 
 
 The heart's great desire is the promise of strength; 
 
 No hope was e'er born to be vain; 
 Then cHng to desire and work on with your might, 
 
 And some day your wish you'll obtain. 
 The eagle's broad wings are developed to fly 
 
 Where eagles desire most to go; 
 And man, in the image of God, has been made 
 
 With power like eagles, you know. 
 
 Desire and ability travel as mates, 
 
 And one proves the other is there; 
 So you should make use of that God strength that's 
 yours. 
 
 Your wish comes by work and by prayer. 
 Are you satisfied, friends, just to drift 'long in life? 
 
 Contented are you, as you are? 
 Or is your ambition to Hft up and lead? 
 
 Have you hitched your great hope to a star? 
 
 That which you may long for may, aye, seem absurd. 
 
 A star? Yet why shouldn't it be? 
 You look at the earth and you win but the earth. 
 
 To reach to the skies you are free. 
 Then know that the God that is in you will win. 
 
 And keep your eyes fixed on the star. 
 Then nothing can crush you, no failure can daunt, 
 
 The gate to success is ajar. 
 
 79 
 
BE A SIXTY POWER LIGHT 
 
 All force is one and we a part ; 
 
 Life's current in one channel flows. 
 The light each shows will all depend 
 
 Through what sized bulb the current glows. 
 
 The men who eat and sleep and drink, 
 Then think that's all there is to live, 
 
 Four-candle bulbs are they, my friends. 
 And so small lighting power give. 
 
 But all force current still is there. 
 
 Did they expand to give it way. 
 And sixty power light they'd show. 
 
 But their great powers dormant lay. 
 
 There's but one current, that is God ; 
 
 It dwells in every human heart; 
 And though you see or know it not, 
 
 'Twill never from its place depart. 
 
 Our candle power we may choose. 
 
 If great, then good deeds must we do. 
 If small, then narrow, selfish live. 
 
 My friends, what candle power are you ? 
 
 80 
 
EVEN AS THE OAK 
 
 Deep in the darkness and cold, slimy mud, 
 
 Dropped a small atom of life, and it slept, 
 There in the dark and the damp and the mould, 
 
 Sleeping, and seemingly dead. Yet it kept 
 The spark of true life that never can die. 
 
 Slumbered this atom there, day after day. 
 Slowly its hope heart was growing and, warm, 
 
 Bursted one morning its dead shell away. 
 
 The world all around it was shiny and cold. 
 
 Life e'er grows upward to beauty and light. 
 So, with all Power, of which it was part, 
 
 Crept this wee atom— this symbol of might. 
 First the bright sunshine reached down with its kiss. 
 
 Then the warm winds soft caressed this small plant 
 Till it grew tall and under its shade 
 
 Sat weary pilgrims, with traveling so faint. 
 
 E'en as this oak from the murky mud grew, 
 
 So will each soul from life's sinfulness grow. 
 Both are but atoms — both parts of the whole. 
 
 Into the ocean of oneness both flow. 
 Environment never can hold heroes down. 
 
 Sometime and somewhere must all upward creep. 
 God ne'er will reign in his glory supreme 
 
 As long as one atom of life lone doth keep. 
 
 81 
 
No shepherd will sleep if but one sheep doth stray 
 Away from his sight, away from his fold ; 
 
 Linger not longer among what is false. 
 
 Look to the sunshine. Grow out of the cold. 
 
 Though in the deepest of great sin you stand, 
 Heaven will never be, aye, quite entire 
 
 Till every heart has been washed white as snow. 
 
 Till every soul has been washed from sin's mire. 
 
SHARE GOD-GIVEN WEALTH 
 
 We have machines and muscled might, 
 
 And factories great and tall; 
 But mighty mind is back of that, 
 
 And God is back of all. 
 
 The work of brain and brawn we praise, 
 
 The wealth they give our land ; 
 
 But in our rush we scarcely think. 
 All came through God's wise hand. 
 
 Our race for gold but dims our view 
 
 Of self, our feeble might; 
 A fading breath, a sigh or two, 
 
 Then mortals gone from sight. 
 
 With all our boasted strength of brain. 
 
 To death we can't say nay; 
 Then let us grow not money-mad. 
 
 The short time we can stay. 
 
 For what availeth it if we 
 
 Have millions when comes death? 
 
 Will wealth light future paths for us ? 
 Does gold prolong our breath ? 
 
 83 
 
Aye, what availeth it if we 
 
 At death have loads of wealth, 
 
 For which to gain we toiled and slaved, 
 And gave, yes, gave our health ? 
 
 Oh, how much better it would be 
 
 Had we but lived in peace, 
 Enjoyed the little that we had, 
 
 Though wealth we did not lease. 
 
 Much better had we shared with all 
 That which to us fate gave. 
 
 And fed the hungry; naked, clothed; 
 Than work and hoard and slave. 
 
 Our Christ was in a manger born; 
 
 On humble cross He died ; 
 And what He had He gave for all, 
 
 And He should be our guide. 
 
 To you who worship at no shrine — 
 What good is wealth and gold. 
 
 If all through life you skimp to save. 
 Grow selfish, dwarfed and old? 
 
 But you who claim the Christian creed, 
 
 You gold-seared hypocrite, 
 What right have you to hoard God's wealth, 
 
 Then in God's temples sit? 
 
 84 
 
Have you obeyed the Christ command 
 "Love brothers as yourself?" 
 
 Or did you make your brothers toil 
 To fill your purse with pelf? 
 
 Oh greed for gold oft dims our sight 
 
 Of misery for our kind ; 
 And in our rush to gain more wealth, 
 
 To suflfering we are blind. 
 
 Above the dollar sign you see 
 The cross ; nay, do not frown, 
 
 The cross that you should help to bear. 
 Above the cross the crown. 
 
 Then let us crush all growing greed. 
 
 God gave enough for each. 
 So share with all what He has given. 
 
 Go practice what you preach. 
 
 85 
 
LIFT AS IF WE UNDERSTOOD 
 
 Could we but lift the veil that hides all hearts, 
 And read the motives that have caused each deed, 
 
 Tm sure our verdicts all would be less harsh. 
 For there are times when we some mercy need. 
 
 Could we but read the minds of those that err. 
 And know the cause of that — the seeming sin, 
 
 I'm sure we'd give our hand with kindly grasp, 
 And lift them up and gladly help them win. 
 
 But since we know not all the hidden force, 
 Let's give the friendly grasp e'en as we should, 
 
 And to our brother say no chiding word. 
 Let's lift the same as if we understood. 
 
 86 
 
OCTOBER 
 
 October kissed the winds of summer, 
 
 But to his wooing they said nay, 
 And so they to some southern lover 
 
 Are fleeing fast and far away. 
 But as they went the birds went with them — 
 
 The summer birds we loved so well; 
 And autumn in her regal colors 
 
 Has said to summer, "Fare thee well." 
 
 The trees are garbed like Indian princes; 
 
 The sky has grown to drabish gray; 
 The sleepy sun goes creeping southward 
 
 To seek the birds that flew away. 
 The milkweed pods spin threads of silver 
 
 That autumn may a mantle weave, 
 That's soft and silken for the seedlings. 
 
 That near earth's breast all growth will leave. 
 
 But earth's great womb will safely hide them. 
 
 And 'neath its coverlet of snow 
 Will nourish and will e'er protect them 
 
 Till ebb of spring is calling low. 
 Clematis vines have now long feathered; 
 
 The chestnut at its burred shell balks; 
 The corn in tented groups is standing; 
 
 The pumpkins lie on withered stalks. 
 
 87 
 
The sun-kissed goldenrod and sumac 
 
 In gorgeous garb their glory lend, 
 As nature's proof that all the seasons 
 
 Have beauty that they gladly send. 
 The trellised grape still heavy, drooping. 
 
 With nectared juice so rich and fine — 
 The bees will sip there not much longer ; 
 
 Man claims his own, his ruddy wine. 
 
 The crickets chirp in jocund fashion; 
 
 The frogs all croak a monotone; 
 The squirrels chase thither with their burden— 
 
 Their nutted burden— all their own. 
 The glowing crimson of the autumn, 
 
 And yellowed" green, slow change to brown 
 And winter soon will hasten hither 
 
 To drop o'er all its blanket down. 
 
 The leaves are curling up all stemward. 
 
 To rest in sleep at flow of fall. 
 Till springtime's ebb disturbs their dreaming, 
 
 And wakes and to new forms will call. 
 The evenings now are long and chilly; 
 
 The wind sobs out its grief at will. 
 Though some folks call October dreary, 
 
 I love this month and always will. 
 
AS BIG AS WE PLAN 
 
 "What are you building, my darling sweetheart?" 
 
 I asked of my baby one day. 
 "Oh mamma, I's building a house that is big." 
 
 And then she went on with her play. 
 
 "But, dear," I persisted, "how big is your house, 
 
 And where is this palace to be?" 
 She stopped not her playing but answered me quick 
 
 "My house is for muzzer and me. 
 
 And oh it has rooms fifty t'ousand, I guess, 
 
 And I builded it all in a town ; 
 And we will have horses and lots of nice sings, 
 
 I don't want my house tumble down." 
 
 Blocks upon blocks she was piling with care, 
 
 As careful as babyhood can. 
 I thought to myself I wonder if we 
 
 Build bigger than ever we plan. 
 
 Tears crept to my eyes as I thought of my hopes. 
 
 Alas ! ne'er a castle had I 
 From all of my day dreams so wonderful once, — 
 
 Those dreams of the days now gone by. 
 
And yet as I looked at my baby's sweet face, 
 I knew that my dreams were not vain, 
 
 For there sat my castle and she would be great. 
 And through her my hopes live again. 
 
 No dream can come true when but dreamed just for 
 self. 
 
 My darling I give for mankind. 
 And strength of my strength, and blood of my blood. 
 
 My hopes in her heart place must find. 
 
 And so though I dreamed mighty works to be done, — 
 (Much good for the world did I plan) 
 
 Her hand will complete that which I left undone. 
 So thus we build big as we plan. 
 
 90 
 
THERE IS A GOD 
 
 There is a God. But look not up beyond 
 
 Yon blue to see his face, but in the blooms 
 That deck the fields with many hues 
 
 And make the air so fragrant with perfumes. 
 Look in the vineyards, laden with their fruits 
 
 So luscious purple, with their richness rare, 
 And at the orchards bending with their weight 
 
 Of golden good for men. Aye, look you there. 
 
 Go look into the loving mother's eyes 
 
 As, bending o'er her babe, she gives 
 Her bosom's nectar for his thirsting lips. 
 
 Aye, look! Then know God lives. 
 Go look when o'er her slain son's bier she bends 
 
 With broken heart, with quivering lips unkissed, 
 And watch, you. Whence doth come her strength 
 
 To live when he, her boy, is sadly missed? 
 
 Go look you at yon eagle as it soars. 
 
 Whence came its power if 'twas not from God? 
 And see that spreading oak majestic stand. 
 
 That came from just an acorn 'neath the sod. 
 Go watch the mighty ocean's ebb and flow, 
 
 As in His hand, they toss their burdens free, 
 That mighty ocean which, we pray, will bear 
 
 Our loved ones back to home and you and me. 
 
 91 
 
There is a God. But seek him not above 
 
 The haunts of men, and beasts, and hills, and dells ; 
 For God is in the hearts of all that lives, and breathes. 
 
 And grows, and loves; aye, there I'm sure God 
 dwells. 
 For God is wisdom, beauty, peace, and love, 
 
 And goodness. Then apart from all mankind 
 Why should He dwell? For men are good and wise. 
 
 God is ! Look not afar a God to find. 
 
 92 
 
THE ANTHEM 
 
 In by-gone days, when world was young in years, 
 
 A king sat on his throne; sat unamused. 
 And they around him feared to brave his wrath. 
 
 They spoke: "Alas our king! His joy has been 
 abused." 
 With solemn mien he sat. The women said: 
 
 "Let us, with something new, try music's charm." 
 And soft, they sat and planned as women can. 
 
 Then they arose. "At least 'twill do no harm." 
 They hastened way and quickly donned strange garbs ; 
 
 Then each her favorite instrument of music brought 
 (And still unnoticed by the grief-bound king) 
 
 And hopeful they, the king to please, then sought. 
 One sang the while her chosen theme was hope. 
 While soft the strains of harmony were heard : 
 
 Hope 
 
 "E'en though thy soul is plunged in grief, 
 
 God's love ne'er bids it stay; 
 And joy will come and banish clouds. 
 
 And sunshine light thy way. 
 Oh joy is coming, joy is near. 
 
 Look up and hope and smile; 
 For though the clouds are hanging low. 
 
 The sun shines all the while." 
 
 93 
 
Aye, soft and pleading — even was the voice. 
 
 But he, the king, dreamed on and ne'er was stirred. 
 
 And then a maiden fair took up the strain 
 
 And sang despair, and acted well her part: 
 
 Despair 
 
 "Oh, woe is me ! Oh, woe is me ! 
 
 Oh death, claim me as thine. 
 That which I touch to ashes falls. 
 
 But woe, but woe is mine. 
 The tears adown my cheeks doth fall. 
 
 I cannot grope my way. 
 My strength, oh God, doth bear me not. 
 
 Oh God, why need I stay? 
 Oh, woe is me ! Oh, woe is me ! 
 
 My cup of grief o'erflows. 
 Within thine arms, oh Jesus mine, 
 
 I seek, I seek repose." 
 
 Aye, e'en her dress of black revealed her theme. 
 The king but raised his hand up on his heart. 
 Then one, red clothed as Anger, stepped in view. 
 Her deep-toned voice filled all that spacious hall, 
 The while the instruments their lightnings flashed; 
 And fierce the tones, then sullen; vengeful all: 
 
 Anger 
 
 "Ye fire-tongued devils, dare ye creep 
 With poison in my heart? 
 Your venom I will purge from me. 
 Satanic imps depart. 
 
 94 
 
Ye hydra-headed snakes of hell, 
 
 I shall defy your power, 
 And reign supreme o'er all your kin. 
 
 My curses on you shower. 
 Depart ! Depart ! No Eden this. 
 
 Depart, ye tribes from hell, 
 For in the sanctum of my heart 
 
 I swear ye shall not dwell." 
 
 The king looked up and caught the singer's eye. 
 Then dropped his head upon his hand and sighed. 
 
 Then ere her voice had ceased 'twas joined by one 
 Whose right to sing for him was ne'er denied. 
 
 Her voice rose sweet. Responsive were the chords 
 
 Of them who played for her. Her theme well chose: 
 
 Love — {The Queen^s Song) 
 
 "Bright shine the stars as I sit here tonight. 
 Brighter my eyes as they beam forth love's light. 
 Quick beats my heart and it beats with love true, 
 For at thy feet, lays my love, dear, for you. 
 What are the stars, and the moon, and the sun, 
 If your dear smile, my lord, I've not won. 
 Love I, aye, worship I, dear, at your throne. 
 Love, aye, your love, sweetest blessing I've known. 
 Kiss I, dear heart, but the hem of your gown. 
 Sorrow I know not, dear, — none but your frown. 
 Were all the power of words here, above, 
 I would but say thee, dear heart, thee I love." 
 
 95 
 
Never loud but sweet and pleading. Sweeter, she. 
 
 And then the king looked up and then arose 
 
 As she, the singer, closed the cadence soft ; 
 
 And moving forward slowly took her hand, 
 
 And smiling, said: '*I have been sad, my friends. 
 
 But music heals. And she who here doth stand 
 
 Shall never more need use her wits to charm 
 
 Her peevish lord back to his kingly place." 
 
 And then, in strains triumphant, instruments 
 
 And voices blended. And smiles were on each face. 
 
 And he, well pleased with this, their act of love. 
 
 Joined in the chorus and their music rang 
 
 And filled each heart with joy. Then, at eve's close. 
 
 With one accord they said: "We're glad we sang." 
 
 96 
 
LIFE IS A LOOM 
 
 Life is a loom on which we each a fabric weave; 
 The threads we cannot choose, for which we ofttimes 
 
 grieve. 
 The threads and shuttle both are given us to use; 
 The voice of fate then speaks : "There is no time to 
 
 lose." 
 
 Our listless hands start at the work in wandering way ; 
 Our feeble fingers from our toil are wont to stray 
 From work thai must be done by each alone, and so 
 We drop some stitches. Then with patience we must 
 know 
 
 Our work must be unraveled. So we start again, 
 Grown wiser for our tasks, our tasks oft done in pain. 
 And so at eve, when comes life's setting sun. 
 We see our work and say : 'Tt has been badly done." 
 
 For oft-repeated raveling has left the fabric soiled — 
 The cloth we wove with love, though oft in pain we 
 
 toiled. 
 And then we wish that others might our lesson know : 
 That work well done will never soiled or grimy grow ; 
 
 97 
 
That stitches all should be complete and first done 
 
 right 
 If life's great fabric we would have all clean and 
 
 bright. 
 Let no temptation take our minds from off our work; 
 And be life's duty what it may, let's never shirk. 
 
 Then at life's close our eyes with tears need not be 
 
 wet, 
 And for the past our hearts will know no vain regret. 
 Oh let's all try life's fabric keep both bright and new. 
 By deeds of kindness, and by acts both pure and true. 
 
 98 
 
PERHAPS 
 
 If all the blossoms put on biers 
 
 Were given ere the eyes had slept, 
 
 Perhaps, perhaps (aye, who can tell?) 
 That passing soul we might have kept. 
 
 If all the praise in papers' print 
 Were told in lifetime and not read. 
 
 Perhaps, perhaps (aye, who can know?) 
 We might not have to mourn our dead. 
 
 Were all the songs o'er corpses sung. 
 Sang while they toiled the hours away, 
 
 Perhaps, perhaps (aye, God doth know) 
 Our dead might live with us today. 
 
 99 
 
GREATNESS BREEDS IN THOUGHT 
 
 The stream of wealth e'er flows to him 
 
 Whose mind is open to receive. 
 That which he thinks is what he gets. 
 
 He never stops o'er else to grieve. 
 He thinks and works for that he wants, 
 
 Until his mind a magnet grows, 
 To draw and hold ideals born 
 
 Within his brain. To thought he owes 
 
 The power to win. For all success 
 
 Must first be thought ere it is won. 
 First thought, and held in thought the while 
 
 We work for it till it is done. 
 So if the thoughts you hold are mean, 
 
 But dwarfed success will be your fate, 
 And 'tis but you will be the cause, 
 
 For what you think you will create. 
 
 100 
 
KEEP FAITH 
 
 Dost thou live 
 
 Where the thorns of life 
 
 Pierce thee with their cruel sting, 
 
 And but gall and wormwood bring? 
 
 Dost thou for the strife 
 
 God-strength give? 
 
 Dost thou tire? 
 
 Life gives thee the test. 
 
 Do the paths of wilderness 
 
 Wound thy soul with sore distress? 
 
 God for thee does best. 
 
 Walk through mire. 
 
 Never weep. 
 
 Soon will come the light ; 
 Then will come the aftermath. 
 Glad thou'lt be then for the path, 
 Glad thou didst the right. 
 Faith thou keep. 
 
 101 
 
DISCONTENT CAUSES GROWTH 
 
 The greatness of a man, I think you'll ever find, 
 Is in proportion to the greatness of his need. 
 
 A hog will root for roots and swill then lay and sleep. 
 A hero's call the man that's great will always heed. 
 
 The man that's great among the slums of earth is he 
 Who's not content with slum conditions all around. 
 
 He knows the goal is hard to win but knows his 
 strength, 
 Is satisfied with naught that's low, and is not bound. 
 
 The man who is content with work he's done. 
 
 Is he whose name will never rest on fame's fair 
 page. 
 For discontent but makes a man crawl from a rut. 
 And once he starts to climb, he climbs till dusk of 
 age. 
 
 102 
 
JUNE 
 
 All nature thrills with June's delight; 
 
 The wooing winds drop blossoms white; 
 
 The fragrant blooms hold nectar sweet; 
 
 A honeyed feast the bees doth meet ; 
 
 And odors of the springtime spray 
 
 Are scenting nature's breeze today. 
 
 The fleecy clouds float ever new 
 
 Across the heaven's deep, deep blue. 
 
 The cowslip's garb of yellowed gold — 
 
 That June has come, they plain foretold. 
 
 The sparkling brooklet freely flows 
 
 Adown its rocky paths, and knows 
 
 That all the earth is now in tune; 
 
 And lad and lass all know 'tis June. 
 
 The flower-studded valleys yield 
 
 A setting fit, their beauties shield. 
 
 There, midst the odors of the pine, 
 
 With burdened breasts, stand grazing kine. 
 
 The new-made bride and groom there rove; 
 
 The birds flit through the greening grove. 
 
 I bask me here in warmth of noon, 
 
 And sing a lilt and lay of June. 
 
 103 
 
BY YOUR SMILE 
 
 By your smile, 
 
 Aye, just by your pleasant smile. 
 You can win all hearts worth while ; 
 For a smile goes quite a way. 
 And will give a cheer to stay. 
 Then just smile. 
 
 With your smile 
 
 In your work you will succeed. 
 
 Smiling faces masters need. 
 
 Lips that smile will draw and hold. 
 
 Lips that smile are good as gold 
 
 While they smile. 
 
 With a smile, 
 
 Just a friendly smile you know, 
 
 You can conquer every foe. 
 
 If a smile we valued right, 
 
 We would make this old world bright 
 
 By our smile. 
 
 104 
 
PEOPLE WORTH WHILE 
 
 Sorrow is but joy turned inside out; 
 
 'Tis you that can reverse it at your will ; 
 Then grieve no more but start you at your task, 
 
 And soon with old-time joy your heart will fill. 
 
 Your life is better for the grief that came. 
 
 Best buds will bloom through darkness and through 
 rain; 
 And though the sun is hid behind the clouds, 
 
 You know its brightness will be yours again. 
 
 The while you shed but tears you cannot see 
 The beauty of the passing clouds above; 
 
 And while you fret o'er sorrow 'long the way. 
 You fail to see the gift was one of love. 
 
 The man who never suffers never knows 
 The value of a true and heart-felt smile. 
 
 Who take both joy and grief as God's best gifts 
 Are people that the world will call worth while. 
 
 105 
 
''IT CAN'T BE DID'' 
 
 Little Freddie, aged seven, 
 
 But two years in school had been, 
 And thought to grow real wise; 
 
 Lots of credits he would win. 
 So one day the teacher said : 
 
 "See who can an answer find. 
 In subtraction things must be 
 
 Always of a similar kind. 
 
 'Now for instance you can't take 
 
 Two sweet pears from apples three. 
 Do I make my meaning plain? 
 
 They are different, don't you see ?" 
 Freddie's hand w^as quickly raised; 
 
 'T don't think that's true nohow. 
 Mamma takes three quarts of milk 
 
 From one little Jersey cow." 
 
 106 
 
DRIFTING 
 
 The ocean called. Why should I wait? 
 
 The years creep on though youth is late. 
 Why should I Hnger on the shore? 
 
 The sea kept calling, caUing more. 
 
 And I obeyed. Why should I stay? 
 
 My boat sails on its wild, wet way. 
 I fill my lungs with ocean's breath. 
 
 And fear I not nor life, nor death. 
 
 For never once doth my heart quail, 
 As up and down my boat doth sail. 
 
 I see my dreams of salt sea waves, 
 And give no thought to ocean graves. 
 
 The stars watch only, should I weep, 
 While God and I sea vigil keep. 
 
 With ebb and flow my wild thoughts roam. 
 My hands drip with the rushing foam. 
 
 The heaving, restless, rolling tide 
 Bears me afar on waters wide. 
 
 The ocean far weds with the sky; 
 And not a care on earth have I. 
 
 107 
 
LOOK AHEAD 
 
 Wise is the man who can greet with a smile 
 
 The coming of this — the New Year; 
 Who knows that it brings him new chances to win, 
 
 The chances he greets with good cheer. 
 
 Wise is the man who will look far ahead 
 To see what the new year may bring; 
 
 Who clings not to sorrow the past year has brought, 
 But lists to the songs new hopes sing. 
 
 Oh wise is the woman who does not look back 
 
 To grieve over chances now gone, 
 But sees in the distance a future that's fair ; 
 
 Aye, sees in the gleam a new dawn. 
 
 Wise is the man who can stand up erect 
 And face all that comes with a smile; 
 
 That is the man that we all love to meet. 
 And that is the man that's worth while. 
 
 106 
 
TOIL MAY BE THE TEST 
 
 Labor oft conceals her blessing best 
 Beneath her garb of toil ; and grief 
 
 May oft be poured into our cup, perchance, 
 To rouse our minds and test belief. 
 
 That ''seeming bad" but good for us may be, 
 And cause our discontent with things, 
 
 That we may rise above our present sphere, 
 And henceforth learn to use our wings. 
 
 The robin ne'er might leave its nest, untouched, 
 Did not the mother guide it well 
 
 And, loving, gentle thrust it forth to fly. 
 That this is best she knows quite well. 
 
 So 'tis with us. The master knows that we 
 Might idly drift adown the stream; 
 
 And so puts loving breakers in our path 
 To rouse us from our passive dream. 
 
 So after all, what is, I'm sure is good, 
 
 And all that comes to us is best. 
 If we v/ill falter not in efforts true 
 
 And leave to God, or fate, the rest. 
 
 109 
 
BY THE GRASP OF YOUR HAND 
 
 In the grasp of your hand, 
 In the grasp of your hand you can hold 
 Many hearts that are aching, and, bold 
 With your words of true wisdom and cheer. 
 You can brighten the hearts that are drear 
 
 By the grasp of your hand. 
 
 By the grasp of your hand 
 You can reach to gutters of sin 
 And lift, and to purity win 
 Many souls that are struggling and faint 
 If you list to their feeble complaint, 
 
 As you grasp out your hand. 
 
 By the grasp of your hand. 
 By the firm, clinging grasp of your hand. 
 You can reach to the heavens and stand 
 Supreme in your God-given might 
 With your struggle to make the world right, 
 
 By the grasp of your hand. 
 
 110 
 
THE PHARISEE 
 
 'Tis little worth that thou shouldst go the miles ahead 
 And leave thy brother helpless far behind. 
 
 The distance thou hast placed between him and thyself 
 Would be the proof that thou hadst not been kind. 
 
 Thy pathway crossed with his and yet thou cheeredst 
 him not, 
 
 So eager wast thou that great goal be done. 
 But when upon the top thou standest so lone 
 
 Thou wilt look down through tears till he has won. 
 
 'Twere better far 'mid lowly life to serve and love ; 
 
 To wipe away thy comrades' bitter tears ; 
 And with thy loving hand in theirs walk up apace, — 
 
 Thus knowing thou hast calmed their fretful fears. 
 
 'Twere better far on earth a ministering angel be 
 And live amidst the misery and despair 
 
 Where thou couldst teach thy comrades how to lift 
 their loads. 
 Than live alone on heights where paths are fair. 
 
 Thy selfish aim to stand far, far beyond the rest 
 
 Is but a brand of him — the Pharisee. 
 No Christian true who lip-petitions make the while, 
 
 A bragging, boasting hypocrite is he. 
 
 Ill 
 
THE MONTH OF MAY 
 
 The breezes are pregnant with scent; 
 
 The odor says spring has begun ; 
 The buttercups Uft to the breeze; 
 
 They woo the warm heart of the sun. 
 The snowballs that bend on the bush 
 
 Scarcely hint of winter now past, 
 Save in whiteness and name; for their green 
 
 Proves that winter is over at last. 
 
 The tulips so haughty and tall, 
 
 All glorious red, yellow, and white, 
 And pink, and spotted, they all 
 
 Give to spring a glorious sight. 
 The silvery leaves of the ferns 
 
 Unfold and creep in the light. 
 And stand in their dignity now. 
 
 Having rested their long winter night. 
 
 The violets peep from the sod. 
 
 Being wooed by the sunshine and rain ; 
 Their colors but prove their delight 
 
 In blooming in sunshine again. 
 The dandelions, tender and green, 
 
 Are sought by the matron today. 
 The scenes stir the true poet's pen 
 
 To write of the beauties of May. 
 
 112 
 
The roses are bursting to bloom; 
 
 The verdure comes back to the vale; 
 The hillsides are covered with green, 
 
 And woods have their blooming tints pale. 
 The bursting of seed into growth, 
 
 And the growing of growth into green 
 Can be felt though we sit with eyes shut ; 
 
 More glad is the heart when 'tis seen. 
 
 The cooing of birds can be heard ; 
 
 Their bodies are warming to mate, 
 And the love that seemed dormant so long 
 
 In union they now consummate. 
 The fishworms all wiggle and squirm 
 
 As they peep from their cold prison cell ; 
 They know why the birds sing so sweet 
 
 And flowers all bloom; know it well. 
 
 The woodchuck that ticks on the roof 
 
 Keeps time with my heart as it beats 
 With joy o'er the hopes that are mine 
 
 As the beauty of spring my sight greets. 
 Oh sure we are glad it is May, 
 
 And our hearts with new vigor do bound ; 
 And yet if we look we will see 
 
 There is joy in each month that comes 'round. 
 
 113 
 
ONE AND EIGHTY 
 
 (Written for a friend's Mother on her eighty- first 
 birthday) 
 
 Come, mother dear, and rest thee from thy task today. 
 
 Hast thou forgotten 'tis thy natal morn? 
 Come rest thee, mother, with thy children here awhile ; 
 
 For one and eighty years thou hast been born. 
 
 Life's wasting pendulum swings ever fast and true 
 And youth has gone. Life's setting sun sinks low. 
 
 And here's your arm chair, mother dear, beside us 
 close. 
 Come now and rest, for oh we love you so! 
 
 The pages of the past are dimmed by bitter tears, 
 And yet the faded blooms in pages pressed 
 
 Bring back once more the dreams of early happy days ; 
 And looking back we know thy life was blessed. 
 
 One and eighty years of earnest patient toil. 
 
 And yet true joy was mingled midst the woe; 
 And thou hast been through life most patient, loving, 
 dear. 
 
 And true to truth that thy great heart did know. 
 
 114 
 
Perchance our thoughtless, faltering tongues have 
 failed to speak 
 
 Our tender love that always has been thine. 
 So come today and rest thee from thy tiresome tasks; 
 
 For 'tis thy natal day, oh mother mine. 
 
 Come, cull the pleasures that this day may bring for 
 thee. 
 
 The thorns and blooms that 'long thy pathway grew 
 Have crowned thy silvered head with honor rare 
 
 And left its sweetness in thy face, oh mother mine. 
 
 'Though fate gave thee a rugged path ofttimes to tread. 
 Yet not one act of thine has been in vain, 
 
 And all the good thou didst and would have done, we 
 hope 
 May live in us and bless the world again. 
 
 So come, dear mother, none hath left thee very lone, 
 Although one vacant chair is here today. 
 
 That angel spirit guards thee every night and morn. 
 God's love would never take it far away. 
 
 So come, oh mother dear, and rest thee by our side. 
 
 For thee we'd make a happy natal morn. 
 Come rest thee with thy loving children here awhile; 
 
 For one and eighty years thou hast been born. 
 
 US 
 
MY NEIGHBOR 'CROSS THE WAY 
 
 "This weather is most murky sure !" 
 
 Exclaimed my neighbor 'cross the way. 
 "But Hfe is just one great old gloom, 
 
 And grief we find where'er we stray." 
 And as she spoke I saw the lines 
 Of fret and worry on her face, 
 And not one tell-tale crease of joy 
 Upon her features I could trace. 
 
 And so I saw my work to do, 
 
 And quickly answered with a smile: 
 "Oh neighbor mine, I'm all alone. 
 
 Come over here with me awhile." 
 (I went to meet her as she came.) 
 
 "Oh did you ever see such green? 
 The heavy rain has cleaned the grass. 
 
 And winter's dirt can scarce be seen. 
 
 Come, neighbor, see the tiny buds 
 
 That bursted in the storm last night. 
 And see how beautiful the sky. 
 
 The clouds are parting for the bright." 
 "Oh yes, I see since you have shown. 
 
 Though I'd not noticed it before. 
 Some way you always see the bright. 
 
 Although I think I look things o'er." 
 
 116 
 
And as she spoke she gave a sigh. 
 
 ''Why dearie me ! I fear you're blue," 
 I said, and laughed. She answered quick ! 
 
 "Had you my life you would be too. 
 But you have sent no boy away 
 
 To sleep on foreign battle grounds. 
 Alas ! for country I gave all. 
 
 For me fate gives but tears and frowns." 
 
 I said: "You think my life all bright 
 
 Because I smile and bid grief way. 
 To me clouds came, though I refused 
 
 To let them darken my life's day. 
 'Tis true I had no boy to send. 
 
 Since fate denied me that bequest ; 
 For though I wanted babes, none came, 
 
 While you, my friend, with one were blessed. 
 
 And had I now your nature, dear, 
 
 I'd sit and weep. A star have you, — 
 A star of gold to light your path, 
 
 And memories of a boy so true. 
 While I have naught. Yet should I weep 
 
 That mother-blessings were not mine? 
 Nay, rather will I love them all, 
 
 The homeless boys, who for love, pine. 
 
 I make my heart so big that all 
 
 Shall share the love. And thus I've grown 
 So happy in my humble work, 
 
 That time for sorrow I've not known. 
 
 117 
 
And so this morn when you saw not 
 
 The beauty of the gloomy day, 
 Love pointed out the bursting buds, 
 
 The brightened green, the peeping ray. 
 
 Your golden star you dim by doubt. 
 
 Your gloom and grief will mar its bright. 
 God blessed you, — loaned your boy to you, 
 
 And now you grieve. It is not right. 
 The world is filled with beauty rare 
 
 For you, my friend, as well as me; 
 But if you look for clouds, you'll find 
 
 'Tis only clouds that you will see. 
 
 But look for sunshine. Let no day 
 
 Be dark enough to stop your quest. 
 Thank God for blessings you were given, 
 
 And share your sunshine with the rest. 
 Your star shines not for you alone, 
 
 Twas for the world's great good he died, 
 And for the world he'd have you live. 
 
 Then do not have his hope denied." 
 
 She quickly wiped away her tears. 
 
 "Alas ! I see that I've been wrong. 
 No more I'll grieve. For all I'll live, 
 
 And do his work midst life's great throng." 
 A look of peace came to her face; 
 
 And as she left my home I knew 
 The world would have one worker more 
 
 Whose heart would be both brave and true. 
 
 118 
 
''I WILL BE HEARD'' 
 
 Forget your grief-made past my friend, 
 
 Live in the happy hope to be. 
 The past has gone, go bury it. 
 
 A future pleasant you will see. 
 
 Choose your ideals pure and great, 
 
 And to the now be ever true. 
 Make every day your very best, 
 
 And naught but good will come to you. 
 
 And dream great dreams and live for them. 
 
 Forget all sorrow of the past. 
 Life's beauty lies before you now. 
 
 And dreams with work, come true at last. 
 
 "Though now you laugh, I will be heard," 
 The then scorned EngHsh Jew replied. 
 
 He dreamed and worked with faith not vain. 
 His words were list to far and wide. 
 
 And there, my friends, the secret is: 
 
 Much faith, much work, for both must win. 
 
 Then linger not midst failures past; 
 For future greatness work begin. 
 
 119 
 
E'er keep the goal before your gaze. 
 
 There's glory, wisdom, power, fame. 
 Let nothing daunt you. Work with faith. 
 Some day the world will praise your name. 
 
 OH LOVE 
 
 By Edna Smith DeRan 
 
 Oh love, there is not any word you speak 
 That is not good. Every thought you give 
 Cheers those you meet, or daily round you live. 
 The dainty blush that creeps upon your cheek 
 Is not less sweet for having left the rose, 
 That, in your garden, stands so sweet in bloom 
 And lending fragrance where, without, were gloom. 
 The blush is sweeter for the place it grows. 
 
 Your very footsteps have a sound that seems 
 
 Like that of angels near. So light and soft 
 
 Each step that, when I'm reading here, I oft 
 
 Just listen, and I hope, and dream strange dreams. 
 
 But when you touch me with that soft white hand, 
 
 My heart beats loud. I dare not stir to kiss 
 
 That dainty hand, lest I awake to miss 
 
 Your tender touch — and find alone, I stand. 
 
 120 
 
IF YOU WOULD ALWAYS DO THE 
 RIGHT 
 
 As o'er life's path we daily trudge, 
 
 We meet with trials not few; 
 And oft we're puzzled how to act 
 
 And scarce know what to do. 
 But in our hearts a wee sma' voice 
 
 E'er speaks as we go long: 
 If you would always do the right, 
 
 Then ever shun the wrong. 
 
 There's none so dumb but that we know 
 
 What's due our fellowmen. 
 We do not need for priests to tell. 
 
 Nor laws writ down by pen; 
 For when we take what is not ours. 
 
 What to our friends belong. 
 We know we are not doing right ; 
 
 And we should shun that wrong. 
 
 When heart-sick brothers 'long life's way 
 
 Ask help and we heed not. 
 But selfish trod our ego path, 
 
 Our life's fair page we blot,— 
 A blur that some day must be cleaned. 
 
 Life's pages must be white 
 Before we enter heaven's gates. 
 
 Where all is pure and bright. 
 
 121 
 
Our sense of right and wrong is given 
 
 That we may know the true. 
 We just make trouble for ourselves 
 
 When we the right don't do. 
 So let us hst to that small voice; 
 
 It's with us all day long: 
 If you would always do the right 
 
 Then always shun the wrong. 
 
 122 
 
LET'S BURY LIFE'S BITTER 
 
 The world has had its years of gloom, 
 But darkest night is just 'fore day. 
 
 We've shed our tears and lived through gloom, 
 And now the sad will pass away. 
 
 The world is meant for peace and joy. 
 
 The world may now be filled with song. 
 The blood-decked fields must fertile grow. 
 
 Let's bury bitter, grief, and wrong. 
 
 Let's reach out arms across the sea 
 To grasp all brother's hands in peace, 
 
 The same as we sent help across 
 
 That tyrant greed and wrong should cease. 
 
 One God rules o'er the wide, wide world. 
 
 The sinful suffers. Let's forgive. 
 Let Christian nations hold no hate, 
 
 But teach the erring how to live. 
 
 One wrong ne'er made another right. 
 
 The Master did not once condemn, — 
 "Go, sin no more," said He. And we 
 Must help, not hate, our fellowmen. 
 
 123 
 
Oh hard it seems to live our creed, 
 When hatred Hngers in each heart. 
 
 But fatherhood means brotherhood. 
 Then let desire to judge depart. 
 
 The erring world has shed its blood 
 
 That we might know what peace should be. 
 
 Let's live the love that Jesus taught. 
 His words were meant for you and me. 
 
 He never scorned the erring ones, 
 But gave the gentle touch to heal. 
 
 Like Him let's prove our creed is true. 
 Our Christian virtues let's reveal. 
 
 This world has all to make it great, 
 And heaven rests with us to bring. 
 
 Let's crush all hate, revenge, and greed. 
 And to the world sweet hope let's bring. 
 
 124 
 
JVHAT YOU GET FROM THE WORLD 
 
 You will get from the world what you give it, my 
 friend. 
 
 Tell what are you giving today? 
 Is your hand open wide to receive all that's good ? 
 
 For that good have you given the pay? 
 
 Do you sit empty hands, shallow hearted, the while. 
 
 And expect us to fawn at your feet? 
 If 'tis thus you are asking for alms here today, 
 
 'Twill be emptiness that you will greet. 
 
 Have you lingered to cheer lonely hearts by the way? 
 
 Then not lonely you'll sit, friend, tonight. 
 If you give to the world pleasant smiles by the way, 
 
 Then those smiles sure will make your life bright. 
 
 It is not what we own that will make heaven now. 
 
 But I know that I speak what is true: 
 Give your smiles and kind words to the friends that 
 you meet, 
 
 And I'm sure heaven will come now for you. 
 
 125 
 
WE DON'T NEED GROUCHES 
 
 Sometimes bad dogs will cease to growl, 
 
 But human grouches don't. 
 They are a medley, dog and mule, 
 
 For they could stop but won't. . 
 
 You often meet them, I am sure. 
 
 Sometimes I've waited long 
 To know if they would see life's good. 
 
 But they don't change their song. 
 
 If they were lodged with past-tense Bill 
 
 Out in some lonely isle, 
 I think they all would get their dues. 
 
 The world wants men who smile. 
 
 But pardon, dogs, I did not mean 
 
 An insult to your breed 
 By ranking grouchers 'long with you. 
 
 But grouchers we don't need. 
 
 126 
 
SOMETIMES 
 
 Sometimes do I weary of my endless, tiresome tasks. 
 And I long to hie me to a land of peace and rest ; 
 
 But my weary comrades seem to falter 'long life's way, 
 So I trudge along once more, for that I know is best. 
 
 Sometimes do I find my path is rugged, steep to climb ; 
 Then I reach out for a strong, warm hand to cling 
 to mine. 
 But I find brave hearts must tread life's dreary path 
 alone 
 E'en as did the Master whom we call the Christ 
 divine. 
 
 Sometimes though I weary, yet my heart is ever brave, 
 And the goal I see beyond me shall, I know, be won. 
 
 Never shall I falter and I'll ever work and pray. 
 I will win the victory ere my lonely life be done. 
 
 127 
 
OUR BONNIE RED FLAG— (Song) 
 
 They say we are radicals, think we are hoboes, 
 
 We care not a rap what they say. 
 We all have one object, we work for true freedom; 
 
 We'll get what we work f oi some day ; 
 Some day while they're counting their millions and 
 flounting 
 
 Their money-made power around, 
 We'll suddenly rouse them, victoriously show them 
 
 That manhood not gold holds the ground. 
 
 Chorus 
 No scorn ever daunts us, the masters' greed haunts us. 
 
 Our strength for world union we save. 
 We'll get what we work for. Oh comrades keep cour- 
 age. 
 Our bonnie red flag let it wave. 
 
 Our dollars don't equal the millions of money 
 
 The capitalists hold in their clutch; 
 But manhood's worth more than the gold of the mas- 
 ters; 
 
 True manhood we know they've not much. 
 We have a few dollars ; we give them most gladly 
 
 For brotherhood symboled in red. 
 Each man is our brother ; we'll fight for each other. 
 
 And wave our red flag overhead. 
 
 128 
 
PEARLS BEFORE SWINE 
 
 You say my thoughts are too advanced, 
 The world must grow awhile, 
 
 And if I preach my creed in verse, 
 The world may only smile. 
 
 And yet you can't deny the truth 
 
 Of what I have to say. 
 You tell me "don't cast pearls to swine," 
 
 'Tis wisdom thrown away. 
 
 But did it e'er occur to you 
 
 If pearls the swine don't see, 
 They ever will remain just swine? 
 
 To cast my pearls I'm free. 
 
 Someone must make the sacrifice 
 
 Of casting, though all vain 
 The effort seems. So why not I ? 
 
 I know that truth will reign. 
 
 E'en though the thoughtless choose to smile, 
 
 I know that in the end 
 The truths I teach will some day live 
 
 In hearts of foe and friend. 
 
 129 
 
What pleasure would my writing be 
 
 Had I a coward's heart? 
 Aye, what I know, that will I tell 
 
 And truth I will impart. 
 
 Should thoughts of mine in sandy soil 
 
 Perchance to fall and die, 
 'Twill be because the soil is poor, 
 
 And not to blame am I. 
 
 But should some thoughts in some hearts live, 
 
 (And that they will I know) 
 Then I am glad that I have sown 
 
 Where others feared to sow. 
 
 130 
 
HEE HAW 
 
 There are two kinds of mules you see 
 
 That fill this world today, 
 And cause its misery and woe. 
 
 I fear they're here to stay. 
 And which is worse I scarcely know. 
 
 They both claim need of law, 
 And if you'll list you'll hear each say! 
 "Hee haw." just that: *'Hee haw." 
 
 One class of mules have all the gold, 
 Their millions they earned not; 
 
 That labor was not meant for them 
 From youth they have been taught. 
 
 A golden spoon was in their mouths 
 Inherited by law. 
 
 Their muley hearts to mercy's plea 
 
 Gives but response : "Hee haw." 
 
 Then there the masses stubborn sit 
 
 Objecting to be taught, 
 Refusing for themselves to vote, 
 From masters they get naught. 
 You tell them rise up as a class 
 
 And for themselves make law, 
 Take what they made, no more be slaves; 
 Their answer is: "Hee haw." 
 
 131 
 
So oft in sheer disgust I say 
 
 Oh what's the use to try 
 To make this world harmonious, 
 
 When rich men rule; poor, cry? 
 When classes both are mindless mules, 
 
 And heartless, brainless, pshaw ! 
 I'd sooner go eat wooley worms 
 
 Than longer hear "Hee haw." 
 
 And yet, they all my brothers are. 
 
 I'm in this world to work, 
 And if this task was given me, 
 
 I'll not my duty shirk. 
 I'll write and talk till millionaires 
 
 Will right their wrongs by law : 
 And poor arise, and think, and act. 
 
 Then I'll not hear "Hee haw." 
 
 132 
 
A TRIBUTE TO IRELAND 
 
 I sing of Erin's sons, 
 
 Of Erin's sons, all one in wit, as one for freedom aim. 
 
 And one in memory of past wrong, all proud of Erin's 
 
 name. 
 O'Connell's voice the nation swayed; a war he might 
 
 have made ; 
 With wisdom seen in nation's few, his voice they all 
 
 obeyed. 
 
 With but one uttered word of force, that starving 
 
 mass of men 
 Impetuous, loyal, might have made a war for history's 
 
 pen. 
 There's Gladstone stood for freedom firm nor once 
 
 gave up his plan 
 That Ireland should old Ireland rule; he freedom's 
 
 fire did fan. 
 
 And why should Ireland not be free? Her woe was 
 English-made, 
 
 And by her acts to Ireland's sons was England's greed 
 betrayed. 
 
 Go read the Irish history — that tale of human woe — 
 
 Then ask not why for Ireland's cause I'm ever plead- 
 ing so. 
 
 133 
 
Those men evicted from their fields, grown careless 
 
 from despair, 
 All crowd the town in nakedness like beasts without 
 
 a lair. 
 In holes most wretched do they live. By hundreds do 
 
 they die. 
 Compassion England does not give, though she has 
 
 heard the cry. 
 
 On boggy lands poor tenants live in four walled mud- 
 made huts, 
 
 With roof of thatch and oft of turf, or built of rocks 
 in ruts. 
 
 An outlet hole for smoke's escape, a single litter oft 
 
 On which the family all must sleep, few garments to 
 be doffed. 
 
 A one-room hut oft home for all — a burrow fit for 
 beast — 
 
 And yes, it oft may house the hog, — ^the landlord's 
 future feast. 
 
 Go read old Erin's story sad, that tale of human woe, 
 
 Then ask me not again, my friend, why I hate Eng- 
 land so. 
 
 There's not a drop of Irish blood within my veins does 
 
 flow. 
 But for each man, or nation crushed by greed I'd 
 
 strike a blow. 
 Were it but once that England's power had crushed 
 
 a country weak 
 In these harsh bitter words today I would refrain to 
 
 speak. 
 
 134 
 
But even with the proofs at hand I'll let old England 
 
 rest, 
 And see if, knowing of her wrong, she'll stand the 
 
 mercy test. 
 But Ireland, poor old Isle of Saints, for you I give 
 
 three cheers; 
 For when you're free, for right you'll stand; of that 
 
 I have no fears. 
 
 Your creed persistant, (though not mine,) may make 
 
 you true as steel, 
 And though you've lived through bitter years, your 
 
 wit you can't conceal. 
 And with persistance, faith, and wit, a nation sure 
 
 will bring 
 An honor to its land. And so of Erin I would sing. 
 
 135 
 
"/ THOUGHT' 
 
 (When Helen Keller was asked why she became a 
 socialist she replied: "I thought.") 
 
 Within the realm of self-respect a crust is sweet; 
 
 While banquets at a master's hand do bitter grow, 
 The master's generosity we do not want, 
 
 But just our honest right of being free, you know. 
 
 Increase in wages which the workers may receive 
 Can't compensate for that decay of spirits free; 
 
 And they who gild their tyranny with golden pay 
 Reveal benevolence of shrewdest type to see. 
 
 Increase in wages sure will make us docile, tame, 
 And numbs desire to rise, rebel, at master-graft. 
 
 For tamely we accept the pittance, Fordized plan. 
 Give them the bvilk of what we made, we get what's 
 left. 
 
 Philanthropy too often but an opiate is 
 
 To dull the seeing of oppressive heels of might. 
 
 Let monied masters pietize as best they may, 
 Philanthropy is not a substitute for right. 
 
 The wall that separates the masters and the men 
 Should be torn down that these extremes the world 
 might know, 
 
 136 
 
And seeing, rectify. The wrongly rich curtail; 
 The worthy poor give chance to work, to own, to 
 grow. 
 
 Oppressors should be crushed that worthy manhood 
 true 
 Might have a living chance to rise in power and 
 might. 
 You talk of liberty. The folly of it all ! 
 
 The word is but a farce. 'Tis gold that rules not 
 right. 
 
 When wealth is valued more than manhood pure and 
 true, 
 When money is the might that governs all mankind, 
 When babes are worked to bring more gold for mas- 
 ter's greed. 
 And women too, 'tis little freedom you will find. 
 
 This is a fight of greed-sick souls for human needs. 
 
 Oh leave the golden meshes of environment. 
 Accept no freedom as a gift. Take what's your own. 
 
 Rejoice o'er what you earn, not what is given, or 
 lent. 
 
 For freedom taken as a gift denies itself. 
 
 For then you recognize the slave, the master-hand. 
 
 If you are slaves, then cringe and crawl. If not, arise. 
 As men 'mong men arise and bravely take your 
 stand. 
 
 137 
 
NAPOLEON'S RETURN 
 
 Europe's outcast had been sent to Elba's lonely isle ; 
 
 But still he craved his native land; he dreamed of 
 France the while. 
 
 To dream with him was but to do. He went with fol- 
 lowers few 
 
 Back to Grenobles' sheltering shade to see what 
 France would do. 
 
 The order there was quickly given : "The banished 
 
 man ! Shoot ! Fire !" 
 Their faces paled. No man obeyed. Commander's 
 
 face showed ire. 
 Those men of France their hero saw, knew duty 
 
 should be done. 
 They looked. (Would love or duty win?) Their 
 
 hearts beat fast. Love won. 
 
 The hero stepped in view of all. ''My boys, kill if 
 
 you choose." 
 With one accord they grasped his hand. "My lord, 
 
 we all refuse." 
 The tears of pleasure bathed their cheeks. They tried 
 
 to kiss his feet. 
 The law of France they heeded not. But joys their 
 
 hero greet. 
 
 138 
 
All former doubts of him had fled. Their love for 
 him was great. 
 
 That dwarfed, late banished strength of France defied 
 all laws of fate, 
 
 Because he knew no word like ''fail" and was a daring 
 man, 
 
 The royalists fled. Once more was he the great Na- 
 poleon. 
 
 139 
 
AT THE END ALL IS ONE 
 
 Of creeds there are many and churches galore, 
 
 And many beHevers for each; 
 But study them all and I think you will find 
 
 One God and one heaven all teach. 
 
 Then why the contention — what's false and what's 
 true? 
 
 We meet at one throne at life's end. 
 Life's paths should be parallel, onward and up, 
 
 And love, each for each, should e'er blend. 
 
 Should water baptism complete be your choice, 
 
 And I no immersion desire. 
 We both should find pleasure in living God's word, 
 
 Nor pause not for envy or ire. 
 
 Should you claim that Jesus was not a mere man, 
 
 But equal with God, and divine, 
 Are you a true Christian if you scorn my faith 
 
 That Christ is but best brother mine? 
 
 Though He be a part of one trinity great, 
 
 Or life's greatest leader was He; 
 I'm sure we'd all be better Christians to try 
 
 And live the Christ-life and agree. 
 
 140 
 
For though there are churches all over the world, 
 
 The aim of all creeds is but one, — 
 To enter the portals of purity, peace. 
 
 When life's many duties are done. 
 
 And this being true, let us end all this strife- 
 Let's have but one creed : Brotherhood. 
 
 Let's love one another and live each for all. 
 And see in each other but good. 
 
 All creeds have one Father, then brothers are we. 
 
 One heaven all have when life's done; 
 Though pathways to heaven are many you say, 
 
 We hope at the end all is one. 
 
 141 
 
THE VOW AT DAWN 
 
 The morn is young and earth is still in deep repose. 
 
 But I, — I could not sleep. The woes I saw last eve — 
 Though I was free, kept gnawing at my heart. Why 
 does 
 
 The sight of all that sorrow — that I could believe 
 
 Existed only by my seeing, why should that 
 
 Annoy me thus ? My heart doth cringe as I recall 
 Those pallid babes, those suckless breasts, those wail- 
 ing cries. 
 Those squalid holes called homes, those bony hands, 
 and all. 
 
 The fountains at my breast are bursting with their 
 flood. 
 My baby's chubby hands are kneading at their feast, 
 And cooing in the warmth of home. The gas grate's 
 glow 
 But mingles with the rosy rays of dawning east. 
 Why do the woes of this sad world cling closely in 
 my heart? 
 I ask and instinct gives me a reply ; 'tis this : 
 I and my kind, have caused conditions such as these, 
 We make wrong laws, and those of justice miss. 
 
 142 
 
Our laws will clothe and feed a thief and keep him 
 
 warm, 
 
 But honesty must starve and walk the streets alone; 
 
 And if you're poor the law will hold you in its clutch. 
 
 But by the millionaire much different laws are 
 
 known. 
 
 The owners of these homeless huts I saw last eve 
 Are shielded by the heartless hand of law and 
 might, — 
 The hand that thrusts these starving in the streets, 
 when gold 
 Is not forthcoming. Yet you say our laws are right. 
 
 We all uphold the law that cripples conscience, too. 
 
 Free speech, free thought we must not have — 'tis 
 out of place, 
 The masters wish it not. Like herds we acquiesce. 
 
 To you and me these sad conditions I can trace. 
 
 And "christian" you and I permit our sex to be 
 
 The wanton playthings for the men who have the 
 gold. 
 To crave for food is human — for love and beauty, too. 
 And men have money. Women, — ah the story's 
 told! 
 
 We build the churches that will welcome millionaires, 
 (The churches that compel the poor to take back 
 seats), 
 Uphold the social code that overlooks man's lust. 
 But that condemns the woman's guilt. Our scorn 
 she meets. 
 
 143 
 
Then babes are born in grief, — grow into master's 
 tools, 
 And you and I in silence sit. Your hands unfold 
 And do your christian duty now. 'Tis plain to see 
 Why I can't sleep till I the world these wrongs have 
 told. 
 
 We are, in keeping silence thus, the guilty ones. 
 Let women shout for women's rights till they be 
 won — 
 The right to free her sex from sin, the sacred right 
 To say : of starvino^ babes I'll breed no more, not 
 one. 
 
 It is my woman''s heart that's begging for it's kind. 
 
 It is the mother-heart that's pleading in me now. 
 I'll never lay my pen away till better laws 
 
 Are made and kept. This morn, oh Father, hear my 
 vow. 
 
 **A woman never so revolts against an unjust eco- 
 nomic system with its skimpy nourishment, as w^hen 
 she is become a mother, and the asking eyes of a babe 
 look into hers, a babe asking nutriment which it gets 
 not."— The Call of the Carpenter. 
 
 144 
 
WE'RE BUT HUMAN 
 
 I see by your pen 
 You think that we men 
 
 Are but horrid bad creatures — just flirts. 
 Perhaps we may be 
 Not guiltless you see. 
 
 I'll admit that our conscience oft hurts. 
 
 We look for your face 
 And there we but trace 
 
 Boundless measure of powder and paint. 
 Don't blame us, maids fair; 
 We men do not care 
 
 To look at such beauty that ''aint." 
 
 I know it is shocking 
 To look at your stocking, 
 
 And yet for your mercy our plea. 
 You show most your chest, 
 We guess at the rest. 
 
 We're perfectly human you see. 
 
 145 
 
WHEN THE TREES ARE ALL BAR- 
 REN AND BROWN 
 
 Now the trees are all bare, 
 
 And the gardens are empty and brown, 
 And the cabbages stand of their heads fresh bereft, 
 
 And the skies in the heavens do frown, 
 As they weep falling tears on the old brown earth's 
 breast, — 
 
 Tears that fall softly, silently down ; 
 And the days linger late as they lag in the east; 
 
 And the eve comes too soon with its grey tinted 
 gown, 
 When the trees are all barren and brown. 
 
 When the trees are all brown 
 
 And all nature seems drear to our sight. 
 And no longer we linger along country paths. 
 
 But we hie to our homes warm, and light. 
 Oh 'tis then that our hearts beat with thankfulness 
 true 
 
 That our brave boys have ended the fight 
 And that soon in our midst they will sit glad and free. 
 
 Oh how glad we W\\\ be then each day and each 
 night 
 'Though the trees are all barren and brown. 
 
 146 
 
When the trees are all brown 
 
 And the dear ones we loved come not back 
 In the earth form we loved, (see you not our gold 
 stars ?) 
 Then shall we truest bravery lack? 
 Nay, with heads held erect, as our boys did o'er there, 
 
 Let us don our white robes, never black. 
 Let our lives show our pride for our brave gold- 
 starred boys. 
 Who o'er there never courage nor manhood did 
 lack, 
 Though the trees look so barren and brown. 
 
 147 
 
STEP OUT WITH YOUR CROSS 
 
 If you stand as a part of the great moving mass, 
 They will crowd you along with the mob. 
 
 You will need little knowledge to move with the herd ; 
 But to lead in new paths is a job. 
 
 But there's sonie one must lead every group that we 
 find. 
 Are you there or just one of the crowd? 
 Of the leaders they're few. It takes courage and 
 brains 
 To be new and thmk new aloud. 
 
 In the great mouldy mass of the millions of men 
 You have moved long enough, comrade mine. 
 
 Step out of your chains. Brave the hisses of men. 
 Step out with your cross. Be divine. 
 
 148 
 
THE NEW YEAR 
 
 What, may I ask, shall the year bring for me? 
 Will it be grief, or will pleasure I see? 
 Will I from worry and care soon be free? 
 Still bear the cross? Or what shall it be? 
 
 Yet as I ask I know^ wise fate denies 
 
 Me the one answer my lone heart so cries, — 
 
 Craves for; yet daily I bravely arise 
 
 To watch for each blessing from earth and from skies. 
 
 So this glad New Year I put self away, — 
 Live for the world — for the world work each day, 
 Crushing out selfishness. Grant me I pray. 
 Wisdom to see and to go the right way. 
 
 Guard my poor tongue that I may say no ill, 
 Say naught save words that some heart joy will fill. 
 Guide Thou my footsteps, give strength that I still 
 May persevere, and my mission fulfill. 
 
 Help me ne'er falter, tho hard is the fight, 
 Strenuous the struggle to do just what's right. 
 Help me to know at the dusk of each night 
 Some care worn soul I have led to the light. 
 
 149 
 
SAD SOUNDS THE WIND 
 
 Sad sounds the wind as it sweeps all around 
 Moaning its plaintive and pitiful sound, 
 Shearing the trees of their leaves now so brown, 
 Shearing them ruthlessly, tossing them down, 
 Down to the earth where they lay in a heap ; 
 For springtime verdure a vigil they keep. 
 Hovering, and hiding the seeds just below. 
 Guarding them safe from the touch of the snow ; 
 Listless they lie and so lifeless they seem. 
 Yet neath their brown does the hope of life gleam; 
 Brown, with the months, dies away into green; 
 Death means but life though in new form 'tis seen. 
 
 Late is the hour and cold is the night. 
 
 Yet with the hours does the dark merge to light ; 
 
 E'en as all death into life soon must grow 
 
 So must life's shadows get lighter you know, 
 
 Lighter and fainter, and merge into day, — 
 
 Sorrow all gone and the joy come to stay. 
 
 Late is the hour. By my window I stand. 
 
 Cold is the wind that comes fanning my hand. 
 
 Lone is my life. Yet from loneliness springs 
 
 Heart-thoughts that leap to my pen. And it brings 
 
 Hope that my lines may through sympathy cheer 
 
 Sad war-worn hearts, and give hope far and r)f"^^ 
 
 150 
 
Sad sounds the wind. Also sad are most hearts, 
 Death is a power that friend from friend parts. 
 Many the homes that have sorrowed through death. 
 Many brave boys have now breathed their last breath. 
 Yet, death means life, be it human, or leaves, — 
 Life in a new form; though each of us grieves 
 When that we loved in earth's breast is laid low, 
 Laid that the body might rest, we should know. 
 Yet as the leaves disappear comes the green. 
 And as each body lies where no more seen, 
 So must the spirit arise in new spheres. 
 Let us not greet it with sighs and with tears. 
 
 Sad sounds the wind as I listen tonight. 
 Teach me. Oh Spirit of Love, how to write. 
 In the lone hours of each night guide my hand 
 That from my heart I may know, understand 
 How best to reach to the depths of each heart 
 And in the breeding of joy do my part. 
 Out of my sorrow may others' joy grow; 
 Out from my loneliness, others' peace know. 
 Sad sounds the wind and cold is the night, 
 Yet naught but joy and sweet peace would I write. 
 Write thoughts to cheer and breed love for all men. 
 Guide thou, oh Spirit of Love, guide my pen. 
 
 151 
 
TRUE WORTH IS PROVED BY TEST 
 
 'Tis he who would be pure and good 
 
 Must Hve 'midst crime and sin, 
 If he would be that which he seeks. 
 
 By test you only win. 
 
 If in a cave from all you live 
 
 Where tempters ne'er can be, 
 How can you know that you are good 
 
 When bad you never see? 
 
 'Tis when you're tempted and resist 
 
 And it is then alone 
 You have the rig*ht to say you're pure, 
 
 When tempters you disown. 
 
 If you would for the world do good 
 
 You in the world must live, 
 And know its needs, and live for all. 
 
 And strength must ever give. 
 
 If you would useful be, my friends. 
 Seek out the world's great woe; 
 
 For if in happy homes you sit 
 Men's needs how can you know? 
 
 152 
 
If you would happy be, then work, 
 
 Nor idle sit, my friend; 
 True joy will come in doing good; 
 
 For work and pleasure blend. 
 
 If happy pure and good you'd be 
 Then 'mong your brothers live. 
 
 By contrast only are these true. 
 So work, and love, and give. 
 
 153 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS 
 
 Away from busy haunts of men, out in the woods am I, 
 With towering trees and peeping moon, and crouching 
 
 tent close by, 
 The hooting owl, mosquitoes, too, the whippoorwill's 
 
 lone call. 
 The winds that through the treetops sigh, then silence 
 
 over all. 
 
 And in my hammock here I lie; from city's heat I 
 
 crept ; 
 Here with but nature's God to watch, a vigil I have 
 
 kept. 
 Oh, silent night, when man should rest when rush of 
 
 day is done, 
 I creep into your shadows here and lie till peace is won. 
 
 For daytime duties tax one's soul with misery that we 
 
 meet ; 
 But wildwood freedom rests and soothes out here 
 
 'midst odors sweet. 
 The fragile crafts of blossoms wild go flitting through 
 
 the breeze, 
 Their silken petals, white and pink, like fairies 'mid 
 
 the trees. 
 
 154 
 
I breathe in all the sweet perfume; of fresh air drink 
 
 my fill; 
 And let my thoughts, so tense each day, go wandering 
 
 as they will. 
 Oh, silent night, which nature gives for man and beast 
 
 to rest, 
 Thy silence and thy dusky charms, of time, for me are 
 
 best. 
 
 155 
 
EARTH'S MONARCHS SHOULD HER 
 PEOPLE BE 
 
 The day of freedom's right is dawning in the eastern 
 
 sky, 
 When nation unto nation speaks: "A world wide 
 
 peace" they cry. 
 
 Our lands are bloody with the war that masters' greed 
 
 has made; 
 Our eyes are dimmed with tears long shed because of 
 
 guns and blade. 
 
 Can truth and freedom govern all while we thus 
 
 fiercely fight? 
 'Tis greed and evil that would rule and war will bring 
 
 no right. 
 
 Can we the name of Christian boast and kill our broth- 
 ers there? 
 
 Had we but sought to rule by love our name might 
 still be fair. 
 
 Our millionaires, they sold the guns, and ammunition 
 
 too, 
 And when we entered in the war they should have 
 
 gone, not you. 
 
 156 
 
For they did pocket all the gains, our poor boys faced 
 
 the fight. 
 I tell you, folks, it may be shrewd ; but sure it was not 
 
 right. 
 
 And so today I'm telling you with voice, and tongue, 
 
 and pen, — 
 Earth's monarchs should her people be, and not her 
 
 moneyed men. 
 
 157 
 
SHARE EVERY GOOD 
 
 Each thought we give for him who needs 
 
 A brother's Hft, a brother's prayer, 
 But places us on higher planes 
 
 Away from tempter's wicked snare. 
 Each step we take from out our path 
 
 To help some one who is in need 
 Will place us nearer to love's goal 
 
 And farther from the tempter Greed. 
 
 'Tis every kindly thought we speak 
 
 And every thoughtful deed we do 
 That fills our heart with joy and peace 
 
 And labels us as christians true. 
 Of what avail is Sunday prayer 
 
 If 'tis but uttered by the tongue? 
 If 'tis not lived, Christ-sacrament 
 
 Will never bless the old or young. 
 
 And when we kneel on Sabbath day 
 
 To say "Our Father," that should make 
 Our duty plain for all the week, 
 
 For then but kindness we must take 
 To all mankind since all are one. 
 
 One Father means one brotherhood ; 
 So we must love all brother's well, 
 
 And share with all our every good. 
 
 158 
 
MY SOLDIER LADDIE 
 
 Written for C. H. M., — a soldier hoy from Detroit. 
 
 Oh my laddie, welcome home, dear, 
 
 For the hours have been long, 
 And my heart beats slow with anguish ; 
 
 Naught to me is mirth or song. 
 
 Yet you marched away so proudly 
 With the flag, red, white and blue ; 
 
 And though miles have been between us 
 Yet I knew your heart was true. 
 
 Herbert, Andrew, Raymond followed, 
 And you four fought for the right; 
 
 But my thoughts and prayers went with you, 
 With you every day and night. 
 
 Now that God has spared you, laddie, 
 
 And is giving you to me, 
 Let us hope we'll part no more, dear. 
 
 Though free from grief we may not be. 
 
 For you'll find one vacant chair, dear; 
 
 Mother now has gone to rest. 
 She had grown a little weary. 
 
 Yet we know that all is best. 
 
 159 
 
So, my sweetheart, let no grieving 
 Drive her spirit form away; 
 
 For she Hngers ever near us. 
 Though we see her not today. 
 
 So, my laddie, let no sorrow 
 Mar the coming for her sake. 
 
 Could she speak she'd have it so, dear; 
 She is freed from pain and ache. 
 
 Oh the hours have been dreary, 
 And I'm glad the war is o'er. 
 
 And you're coming home to me, dear ; 
 And, please God, we'll part no more. 
 
 160 
 
THE DAWNING DAY 
 
 Grief, with its hydra heads, has clutched the world 
 And eaten far into the hearts of men, 
 
 So far, so deep, that some, in great despair. 
 
 Have fainted long the way. But some, with pen, 
 
 And some by words of mouth, have held despair 
 At bay, have clung with hearts of steel, to fate 
 
 Which says that what ye sow that shall ye reap. 
 And they have sown good seeds, and scorned to hate. 
 
 Aye, hate the hands that grasped their seeming good; 
 
 And, with this purpose pure, raised not one hand 
 To get revenge when it was in their power. 
 
 And thus their hearts beat glad: ''We understand." 
 
 So one by one the hydra heads of grief 
 
 Have slunk away. The morning beams but show 
 
 The dus!y path adown which they have crept. 
 And hearts, triumphant, stand in joy. They know 
 
 The carcass lost was but their crown. For all, 
 Aye, all that's good, and true, is never lost. 
 
 That which is good is that we truly earn. 
 
 And, earning, win, and glory in the cost. ; 
 
 161 '; 
 
And so the glorious rays of dawning day 
 Reveal no dew of tears. But over all 
 
 The freshened silence of the early morn. 
 A gentle benediction seems to fall 
 
 Upon the harvest of sweet hopes revealed. 
 
 "We understand that Love has led the way." . 
 And so they stand with hearts at rest. They greet, 
 
 With smiles and peace, they greet the dawn of day. 
 
 EVERY DAY 
 
 Let your 4ove be seen in deeds 
 
 Every day. 
 Let your smiles make bright the paths 
 
 As you stray. 
 Why should faces be so sad? 
 How much better to look glad 
 
 Every day. 
 
 Let your creed be seen in acts 
 
 Every day. 
 Wait not for the Sabbath, friend, 
 
 When you pray. 
 Live your brotherhood you speak 
 Seven days of every week. 
 
 Act and pray. 
 
 162 
 
Three following poems by my father, written when 
 I was about fourteen years of age. At that time he 
 said to me one day, "Why don't you try and write 
 poems?" And from that suggestion has resulted my 
 books. 
 
 AUTUMN 
 
 The autumn leaves are falling. 
 
 The hoary frosts have come 
 And teach that He is calling 
 
 Us to a better home. 
 Then heed each moment flying; 
 
 Work while it calls today. 
 Be sure that you are trying 
 
 The Master to obey. 
 Improve with all endurance 
 
 The talents He has given, 
 And merit the assurance 
 
 That we shall meet in heaven. 
 
 163 
 
THE DYING SOLDIER 
 
 A soldier on the ground did lay, 
 With knapsack 'neath his head. 
 
 He beckoned me to come his way, — 
 I had thought he was dead. 
 
 His face was pale, his eyes did rest 
 On me with troubled look; 
 
 He moved his hand up to his breast. 
 And therefrom took a book. 
 
 He said : "Send this to mother dear. 
 
 It was her gift to me; 
 She said: *My son, its precepts hear. 
 
 And they will make you free.' 
 
 Tell her I read and found the One 
 
 Who does all sin forgive ; 
 And though I was an erring son, 
 
 Some day with her I'll live." 
 
 And then he gave one gasp and died, 
 
 That soldier boy so true. 
 This was but one of many scenes 
 
 That in the war I knew. 
 
 164 
 
ANNIVERSARY OF THE SEVENTY 
 FIRST O. V, I. 
 
 When into camp first day we went 
 
 We did not know some others; 
 But after having three years spent 
 
 We almost grew Hke brothers. 
 Now once a year we plan to meet 
 
 In June when fine the weather, 
 To talk times o'er, old friendship greet. 
 
 And spend a day together. 
 
 But comrades, I have thought we ought 
 
 In telling o'er our story. 
 Say 'twas for freedom that we fought 
 
 And to sustain old glory. 
 'Twas for the flag we love so well 
 
 We went to fight our brother ; 
 The story to our children tell 
 
 That they may love no other. 
 
 Tell them the cause our father's fought 
 
 And severed a relation; 
 And with their blood this country bought 
 
 That we might be a nation. 
 Tell them we've rights upon the sea 
 
 To trade in every station; 
 But they must with all countries be 
 
 In peaceable relation. 
 
 165 
 
Tell them for land we have no lack; 
 
 Don't want much in the waters 
 That take our boys, ne'er sends them back, 
 
 Make widows of our daughters. 
 Tell them a christian nation be ; 
 
 Have love for one another. 
 One God, one Father, He did plan 
 
 That we should love each brother. 
 
 166 
 

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