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Before the Dawn 
 
Before the Dawn 
 
 A BOOK OF 
 
 Poems, Songs, and 
 Sonnets 
 
 By JOSEPH LEISER 
 
 The Peter Paul Book Company- 
 Buffalo, New York 
 
 MDCCCXCVIII 
 
 I 
 
 -HOP '^<9o^ 
 
 JUNIO 
 
 2nd cor 
 
 189a 
 
 
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 805;> 
 
 Copyright, 1898 
 
 by 
 
 Joseph Leiser 
 
 Printed and bound by The 
 Peter Paul Book Company, 
 in Buffalo, New York. 
 
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Preface 
 
 A volume of poems needs no preface. The poems 
 are their own reason and apology. An author may- 
 be introduced by friends, but he introduces himself 
 best by his own products. 
 
 The poems of this volume are selections from my 
 literary efforts of the last year in college and the 
 first year in a professional career. They are now 
 offered to a larger circle of readers. 
 
 In naming the volume "Before the Dawn," I 
 have tried to convey by the title the same impression 
 my poems reveal. We are living in a transitoryage — 
 a period of transition. It is an era of expectancy, 
 and we are only sleeping in the grey mist of a 
 promised morn. The words of my poems may be 
 nothing, the drift and latency of them everything. 
 
 By motives of gratitude I am impelled to express 
 here my thanks to Mrs. Kent Dunlap Hagler for 
 her assistance and suggestions, under most trying 
 circumstances, in reading and correcting proofs. 
 
 Springfield, 111., April 13, 1898. 
 
Contents 
 
 Midnight on the Campus, i 
 
 The Lookout, 5 
 
 The Prospect, 7 
 
 Easter Greeting, 9 
 
 Two Lovers, 11 
 
 Nature's Tutor, 17 
 
 At Christmastide, 19 
 
 The Day of Atonement, 22 
 
 ImmortaHty of Matter, 38 
 
 The Light Beyond, 40 
 
 The Prophet, 43 
 
 The Travelers, 59 
 
 Burial in a Lonely Churchyard, .... 62 
 
 A Psalm for Toilers, 69 
 
 Meditations at Twilight, 72 
 
 Call of a Poet, 78 
 
 Songs of Poets, 80 
 
 Songs of the Future, -84 
 
 An Incident at the Fair, 90 
 
 The School Bell, 93 
 
 Waiting, 95 
 
 ix 
 
X Contents 
 
 Faith, 97 
 
 October, 98 
 
 The Flight of Happiness, 99 
 
 A Knight of the New World, loi 
 
 Halloween, 105 
 
 Rights of Man, 106 
 
 I Hear the Hymn of Twilight, 107 
 
 Isolation, 108 
 
 The Sowers, 109 
 
 Man and the Universe, no 
 
 A Fragment, no 
 
 Songs 
 
 The Fisher, 113 
 
 Come, Little Birdie, 115 
 
 Farewell Song at Summer Brook, . . . .116 
 
 Song of Spring, 117 
 
 Song of Autumn, 118 
 
 Song of Winter, 119 
 
 Song of " Sangersehen," 119 
 
 Good Night Song, 120 
 
 Coach Song, 121 
 
 Where One Is, There Two Will Be, . . . . 123 
 
 The Old Mill, 125 
 
 The Night Wind, 127 
 
 Love Song, 128 
 
Contents xi 
 
 Sonnets 
 
 Sonnets of Despair, 131 
 
 Resignation, 137 
 
 Dr. E. G. Hirsch's Forty-seventh Birthday, . . 138 
 
 On Reading a Book of Sonnets, .... 139 
 
 Before New Year 140 
 
 Authorship, 141 
 
 When Fancy Decays, 142 
 
 Obedience, 143 
 
 Winter, 144 
 
 Life's Vintage, 145 
 
Before the Dawn 
 
Before the Dawn 
 
 Midnight on the Campus 
 
 How calm the darkness lies 
 Upon our campus green, 
 Like some perpetual sleep 
 Whose waking is in dreams. 
 
 On such deep silence feeds 
 The soul, that freer it 
 May turn to that first dawn, 
 When, in vast uncreated space, 
 From drifts of nebulae. 
 Our globe was fashioned. 
 
 We are of that same silence made 
 As girts our sphere and girdles 
 The planets in their starry realms. 
 Thus silence is the womb 
 From which all things have origin, 
 The primal element of which 
 Both man and beast are offspring, 
 The world's first syllable and speech. 
 
Before the Dawn 
 
 And thus in silence does 
 The soul resolve itself 
 To its first form, 
 That better it may meet 
 The elemental source 
 That founds our being. 
 
 Such calm unfolds the soul, 
 And lifts its earthly vestment 
 Where, pure and undefiled, 
 It links itself with all 
 That moves and makes our being. 
 In substance like, and bound 
 To all by universal links. 
 
 Ah ! silence quickens awe ; 
 And man, affrighted by the spell, 
 Would hide himself in fear 
 From its appalling presence : 
 There is no silence to the soul 
 That feels the edges of his life 
 Uniting with creation's dawn, 
 That binds the tiny self 
 To that great life which rounds 
 Our worlds and worlds to be, 
 And makes from all but one — 
 God, soul, man, dust, but one. 
 
Midnight on the Campus 
 
 We grow not from, but out of, all, 
 And all we are is in the whole. 
 We never add but what is there ; 
 And all enfolds the one, 
 As one surrounds the whole. 
 By that small lisp of speech 
 We swelled the fuller sound ; 
 By this great gaze in space, 
 And even that vast tread toward God, 
 Are all retraced by that same course, 
 We rose and moved beyond, 
 By that same step return 
 From whence we came. 
 
 So silence forms a part 
 Of this great world and life ; 
 The stillness of this night, 
 A smaller calm of that 
 Great silence which is death. 
 As life is a beginning, so is death. 
 Both life and death are one, 
 And each but different sides 
 Of one great spirit form. 
 
 If sadness be the evening, 
 
 And joy the morn, — 
 If autumn's glow is grieving 
 
 At winter born, — 
 
Before the Dawn 
 
 If sadness, joy, 
 
 And grief, and tears 
 Are mine alike 
 
 In varying years, — 
 Then are we kindred souls ; 
 And life, bestowed on me, 
 Will death then make me nought ? 
 Our being all undone. 
 And changed to what ? 
 We are not lost in life or death ; 
 Nought alienates the soul of man. 
 Not even time or space. 
 We are a part of all that is ; 
 In life is death, in death is life : 
 So are we soul of every soul, 
 And part of every self 
 
The Lookout 
 
 The Lookout 
 
 We see where never was seen, 
 And hear when no voice calls ; 
 
 We know whatever was given, 
 At the feet of our searching falls. 
 
 There are visions higher than vision, 
 And mind outstretching mind ; 
 
 We are the links of a region 
 That higher regions bind. 
 
 With us is but the making, 
 
 To undo what is done ; 
 For others comes the taking, 
 
 Perfecting what's begun. 
 
 The eye is not blind with seeing ; 
 
 Above the peak and hill, 
 Another eye is beaming, 
 
 A heart with a deeper thrill. 
 
 We stand on a peak, and, glancing 
 At shifts of wind and cloud. 
 
 Behold the stars enhancing 
 
 The folds of midnight's shroud. 
 
Before the Dawn 
 
 On hilltops, true, we stand, — 
 'Tis well a height we reach ; 
 
 There we behold another land, 
 And hear another speech. 
 
 Life is but in the making ; 
 
 There's a newer life to gain ; 
 And man, from sleep awaking, 
 
 Shall see his darkness wane. 
 
 And glory is passing to glory. 
 And riches to treasures of gold ; 
 
 The scroll of earth is a story 
 Each age has newly retold. 
 
 The things that are we are praising. 
 Give honor to honors won ; 
 
 The things that are we are raising 
 To the things that will be done ! 
 
The Prospect 
 
 The Prospect 
 
 Let past be past, and days that are done 
 
 Go rest in their unhewn grave ; 
 The days to come have more to be won 
 
 Than cycles of ages can save. 
 
 What's past is past ; our sob and our tear 
 
 Will never unravel the deed ; 
 Though wait we in fear for many a year, 
 
 And practice our virtue and creed. 
 
 We each of us wrought whatever we thought, 
 
 And tallied whatever we willed ; 
 And now we forget, and some may regret 
 
 They knew what would be fulfilled. 
 
 O 'tis not our fate, not even our state, 
 That stamps us the badges we wear ; 
 
 'Tis only with us, and thanks it is thus. 
 That drives us to do and to dare. 
 
 O we mortals are our own kindly star ; 
 
 We alone guide the life that we hold ; 
 And alone on our lathe, in joy and in wrath, 
 
 Our life carves its pattern and mold. 
 
Before the Dawn 
 
 O then shall I sigh for what has gone by 
 
 And never comes back to me ? 
 O let me grow strong, as days march along, 
 
 And hope for what I may be ! 
 
 With years ahead, stay weeping instead 
 
 At a chance mishap and a slip ! 
 O rather be jarred, your proud face marred. 
 
 Than wilt, or loose your strong grip ! 
 
 You're always a man ; whatever you can. 
 
 To do and to try is your right ! 
 Suppose you go wrong, and a thousand strong 
 
 Are ready to jeer and to spite. 
 
 Your sorrow yearns for the funeral urns 
 
 To bury the woe of your lot, 
 O see what's afore, and what is no more 
 
 Will soon, too soon, be forgot. 
 
 The past is done ; its praises are sung ; 
 
 The days to come we will know : 
 The days that are gone will cheer with no song ; 
 
 The future alone is aglow ! 
 
Easter Greeting 9 
 
 Easter Greeting 
 
 O CHANT the song triumphant ! 
 
 Let vaster music sound ! 
 A worid once dark and desolate 
 
 Has God in wiser reason found. 
 
 A world is born anew today ; 
 
 Man need no longer curse his birth. 
 Great joy is crowning all mankind, 
 
 And beauty dwells in good of earth. 
 
 The toil of ages was not vain ; 
 
 The sod our fathers' tears bedewed 
 Has freshened earth to bear the fruits 
 
 Of hope restored and life renewed. 
 
 O chant the song triumphant, 
 
 And greet the world with wider love ! 
 
 Our life, that's spanned from dust to star, 
 The fear of death can never move. 
 
 We find our God in rock and tree. 
 In Sirius of unmarked space ; 
 
 In beast and man, in all that is, 
 Divinity on earth we trace ! 
 
lo Before the Dawn 
 
 O greet the world ! There is no end 
 To life and man, through life and death 
 
 The softest whisper is a sound, 
 And spirit is a hving breath. 
 
 A world is rising from the tomb 
 
 Of doubt, and fear, and discontent ; 
 
 And hope is winging towards the sky, 
 With love the pledge of sacrament. 
 
 And every man is more the man 
 In all the reckoning of worlds ; 
 
 For all creation is his kin. 
 
 And in the void of space he whirls. 
 
 O chant the song triumphant ! 
 
 A world is born anew today ; 
 A vaster manhood greets the dawn ; 
 
 A tottering age is rolled away. 
 
Two Lovers ii 
 
 Two Lovers 
 
 We strolled beneath the autumn moon, 
 Full orbed and rounded as a globe, 
 Embosomed on the breast of night. 
 The sky, like some unfolded scroll. 
 Exposed her jeweled and starry script, 
 That man, born of the latest hour. 
 Could read alike with those who first 
 Made fancy spell their wandering thoughts. 
 
 Profane it was to beckon speech, 
 Or, speaking, only whispers pass. 
 Unfathomed silence breeds a spell 
 Of silence on the lips of men. 
 With childish gaze we looked aloft, 
 And never tried to view again 
 A scene the generations have beheld 
 With each and single wonderment. 
 
 Suffused with deeper thoughts unquenched, 
 My musing sought my lips in speech. 
 ' ' Where are your thoughts tonight, my friend, 
 When heaven, rich in splendor, fills 
 The breast with luscious gratitude ? 
 
12 Before the Dawn 
 
 Can petty thought possess the mind, 
 
 Or lightness reign, deride the might 
 
 Of him who called the heavens forth 
 
 And gave the stars their watchman's post? 
 
 To be majestic we must first 
 
 Behold some majesty afar. 
 
 There, yonder, we, my friend, may read 
 
 The poem man first yearned to con. 
 
 They are not only stars that shine. 
 
 Who star ward would his soul project. 
 
 Oh ! heaven strews her fields by law, 
 
 But law does not our gaze control : 
 
 A wonder fills our open eyes. 
 
 And faith grows from this wonderment. ' ' 
 
 * ' When man by gazing cannot see, 
 His heart will fill the troubled gap. 
 Does the vastness beckon fancy, 
 Loose her fleshy moorings, roam 
 Over infinite expanses, coursing 
 Where the light and darkness dwell, 
 Where the heat and cold are cradled. 
 And the seasons are prepared ? 
 Though the spell may hush our murmurs, 
 Still the flood of thoughts must flow. 
 Who would chain the driving breakers, 
 Close the font of springtide's rain, 
 
Two Lovers 13 
 
 Blanket heaven when the snowflakes 
 Scatter crystals on the air, 
 Bring the autumn leaves in summer, 
 Make the flowers of May time halt, 
 Turn the mountains into hillocks 
 And the thunder's roar to peace? 
 Man may nature curve and straighten ; 
 Never can he curb the mind ! 
 Though the prison bars may hush it, 
 Seal the lips by silent chains. 
 Then the dungeon tower will symbol 
 Liberty for all mankind ! ' ' 
 
 * ' Tell me where your thoughts are roaming, 
 Though the evening holds her peace ; 
 When the mind escapes her musings, 
 Then the lips their calm release." 
 
 * ' O I would my thoughts were winged. 
 And the flight of birds possessed ! 
 To my love my thoughts would hasten. 
 To my sweetheart speed and fly. 
 Such a night as this we wandered. 
 Taking yon calm moon our guide, 
 Mused as thus we two are musing, 
 Only love became our theme. 
 So we strolled, as lovers, aimless, 
 Guide their steps without a course ; 
 
14 Before the Dawn 
 
 And the love within us bosomed 
 Freed its hold and then made way. 
 Then I found no love is single, 
 Dwelling lonely in the heart ; 
 Love is twain, in each fulfilling 
 What in each makes up the self" 
 
 Thereupon a sadness seized me ; 
 Never felt I lone before, — 
 Never, till my friend had whispered, 
 ' ' Love can never dwell alone. ' ' 
 Then I looked aloft for comfort, 
 Till my breast was filled with trust. 
 And my heart suffused with deeper. 
 Vaster thoughts than e'er before. 
 And I felt within me coursing 
 Both his love and then her own ; 
 And in fulness richly treasured 
 With the love his heart declared, 
 As in ages, cycles, eons, 
 Men pronounced their lovers' wooing, 
 Plead in language this same yearning, 
 One same speech, the mother tongue, 
 Never new or strange or erring, 
 Love the common speech of man, 
 Understood, wherever mortals 
 Have a heart to know that love. 
 
Two Lovers 15 
 
 Then by mighty sweep my vision 
 Lifted me from earth and man 
 To the universal heart : 
 Not a lone and single being, 
 But a soul of all the living, 
 Only I the speaking soul, 
 Placed within a boundless space. 
 And my ears then heard the echoes 
 Of each lover to his bride, 
 As the courtier, king, and ruler 
 Lulled majestic strains of love. 
 Heard the harsher, rougher murmurs 
 Of the peasant's bungling tones ; 
 Even rose the limping accents 
 Of the savage brawling grunts. 
 
 Each one whispered in his language 
 But the same sweet bridal chant, 
 Much the sweeter, being human, 
 Ebbing from the heart of man. 
 And a shudder fell upon me, 
 In my fright I feign would cry : 
 ' ' God, O soul of all the living, 
 Am I this atomic speck, 
 Floating in this vast creation, 
 Only lisping what the pilgrims 
 Of all times and ages spoke ! 
 
1 6 Before the Dawn 
 
 Even love that would engulf me, 
 But the love within man's bosom. 
 On this earth and human temple 
 Not a single place or confine, 
 Hidden from the range of man ! ' ' 
 
 But the thought was more than thinking, 
 By her arts could well control. 
 We are fated to live mortal — 
 Man can never flee his manhood — 
 Life is only firmer binding. 
 What our birth begins to thread. 
 
 So the vision gave me comfort, 
 Though I called no love by name. 
 In my heart, and soul, and being, 
 Love abode to claim the praise. 
 And I trusted when my journey 
 Wound the troubled ways of life. 
 One would claim me and possess me, 
 Be, as I am man, my wife. 
 
 And my arm crept near his stronger, 
 Nestled closer at his side ; 
 " Friend, beneath this autumn moonlight, 
 We, two lovers, calmly glide." 
 
Nature's Tutor 17 
 
 Nature's Tutor 
 
 Thou shalt be my tutor, child ; 
 
 Fresh from Heaven's hand art thou 
 What vast dreams there yonder dwell, 
 
 Seem to linger on thy brow. 
 
 Sweeter come the messages 
 From ethereal realms of God 
 
 To thy unconfining ears 
 
 Than to us who have earth trod. 
 
 Nearer art thou to our God, 
 Learned in his own sacred art ; 
 
 Lessons bringest thou to earth ; 
 Newest truths dost thou impart. 
 
 We do gather at thy feet : 
 
 Teach us more than books reveal ; 
 Teach us, sunk in laws of men. 
 
 How the soul of man should feel. 
 
 Thou art every man in germ, 
 Budding flower of every art ; 
 
 Poet, painter, singer, teacher, 
 Of all souls thou art a part. 
 
1 8 Before the Dawn 
 
 Thou art but thyself no more, 
 No disguises of a soul ; 
 
 What the forms of man devise 
 Has not passed to thy control. 
 
 Teach us, child, thy simple grace, 
 That unpretending, natural bow ; 
 
 Then, far more than books or skill, 
 God's own lesson teachest thou. 
 
At Christmastide 19 
 
 At Christmastide 
 
 O LET me hear at Christmastide 
 The joyous chant of pealing bells, 
 
 As outward sounding, far and wide. 
 The rapture of their music swells. 
 
 And I will hear the message sung 
 Across the borders of the night, 
 
 And feel the joy of old and young, 
 Uplifted by their sweet delight. 
 
 I, too, will hear the sainted choir 
 Upon the wintry skies proclaim, 
 "Though earth be sad, and living dire, 
 
 The heavenly host still praise his name. ' ' 
 
 The echoes on the wind will ride, 
 
 Between the banks of storm and snow ; 
 
 And hastening on at Christmastide 
 To cheer the sons of men below ; 
 
 And caroling, as birds at dawn. 
 To bring the pining days a cheer ; 
 
 For man must turn his ills to song. 
 Lest he die with the dying year. 
 
20 Before the Dawn 
 
 And I will hear at Christmastide 
 But one grand song for every man ; 
 
 And trust that as the echoes glide 
 The circuit of the world they'll span. 
 
 That none there be who hear no sound, 
 And none will glance across the sky, 
 
 And see the dome in darkness bound, 
 And catch the wailing of their sigh. 
 
 But all will know who hear the ring, 
 
 That peace is spread from heaven to earth ; 
 
 To all his children does it bring 
 The tidings of a newer birth : 
 
 That man unlearn the old and false, 
 And trust his life upon the new ; 
 
 And bury with the dead his faults, 
 To live in deeper faith the true. 
 
 And I will hear at Christmastide, 
 
 The curse of man is banned for death ; 
 
 The greed for gold, the sin of pride, 
 Is languishing for fresher breath. 
 
 And I hear, too, within that chant. 
 The trials of man have fled the land ; 
 
 The woe of need, the cry of want. 
 Are silenced by a fuller hand. 
 
At Christmastide 21 
 
 Oh, never may there be an end 
 To what is anchored in the soul ! 
 
 Though night of heart with darkness blend, 
 Our life is in our own control. 
 
 O ring out, bells, at Christmastide 
 
 In fuller tones and vaster plan ; 
 O ring that in all times abide 
 
 The Christ that is in every man ! 
 
2 2 Before the Dawn 
 
 The Day of Atonement 
 
 Soft, oh soft, from yonder temple 
 Creep the echoes low and mournful. 
 Thin and feeble stray the shadows 
 Kindled by the candles' glow. 
 O'er the muffled stir and murmur 
 Of the faithful sons and daughters 
 Gathered in the house of worship 
 On the great and holy evening, 
 Greatest eve of all the evenings 
 Israel welcomes with a prayer. 
 
 Hither have they flocked and banded, 
 Robed their frames in death's pale vestment, 
 Consecrated soul and body 
 For the great and trying day. 
 First forgiven by their neighbors 
 For whatever ill or insult — 
 First by man absolved and pardoned 
 Ere the pardon falls from God. 
 Bent in prayerful meditation, 
 Searching for their sins, transgressions ; 
 Tearing from their mortal bosoms 
 All of earth's defilements, stains; 
 
The Day of Atonement 23 
 
 Murmuring as the countless branches 
 Of a forest hum their wail, 
 Nodding, tossing, bowing, pleading; 
 Muttering in heart-cloyed accents 
 Prayers of heroes, priests, and martyrs ; 
 Lisping in an ancient language 
 Hymns of poets, kings, and sages ; 
 Yearning only for redemption 
 From their human, erring action ; 
 Longing for the holy vision. 
 At the throne of God to stand. 
 Where the book of life is opened, 
 Writ with all their earthly deeds, 
 And the Judge of Life inspecting 
 All the acts of sinful man ; 
 Trembling with a dire emotion. 
 How the scales of fate will balance, 
 What allotment they are destined. 
 What the circling year will bring, 
 When the wheel of life, revolving. 
 Sends the sparks of life or death. 
 
 Lo ! above the mournful chanting, 
 Rise the fuller sounded wailings 
 Of the soul's most solemn anthem. 
 Hark! the strains of deep Kol Nidra — 
 Saddest music ever mortal 
 Taught his lips to hymn or sound ! 
 
24 Before the Dawn 
 
 Not the heart of one lone mortal 
 Told his anguish in that strain ; 
 All the sorrow, pain, and struggles 
 Of a people in despair, 
 Gathered from the vale of weeping, 
 Through the ages of distress. 
 'Tis a mighty cry of beings 
 Held in bondage and affliction ; 
 All the wailing and lamenting 
 Of a homeless people, roaming 
 O'er the plains and scattered hamlets 
 Of a world without a refuge. 
 All the sorrows, trials, bereavements - 
 Loss of country, home, and people, - 
 In one mighty strain uniting. 
 Chant for every age its \vail ; 
 Make the suffering years reecho 
 With the wounds and pains of yore ; 
 Give a voice to every martyr 
 Ever hushed to death by pain, 
 Every smothered shriek of daughter 
 Burned upon the fagot's bier ; 
 Bring the wander-years and exile, 
 Persecution's harsh assailment, 
 Ghetto misery and hounding, 
 To the ears of men today ; 
 Link the dark and dreary ages 
 
The Day of Atonement 25 
 
 With the brighter future's glow; 
 Weave the past and hopeful present ; 
 Bind the living with the sleeping, 
 Dust unto the dust confessing, 
 Even with the dead uniting, 
 When the soul would join with God. 
 
 Softly rise the chanting voices, 
 As the anguish gains in feeling, 
 As their sorrow leaps restraining, 
 Bursts in floods of sobs and woe. 
 Cries its mighty pleas for mercy, 
 Begs forgiveness from their Father, 
 Promises more faithful living. 
 Holiness and consecration. 
 Patience to endure the suffering 
 Undeserving made their lot. 
 Then the echoes fail in silence, 
 As a saint uplifts his eyes 
 For a glimpse of a fulfillment 
 Of a promise pledged his soul, • 
 With expectant eyes awaiting 
 Tokens of his soul's bequest, 
 Hushes e'en his bosom's heaving 
 Lest his inner voice be lost. 
 Then upon the heart is strewn 
 Holier thoughts of man and God ; 
 
26 Before the Dawn 
 
 And the silence sends the message 
 To the holy throne of God. 
 
 Slowly creep the muffled murmurs. 
 As the leaves and flowers, conspiring, 
 Steal a breeze from summer's chamber, 
 Hum and mumble as they stroke it, 
 Smoothe, caress, and gently coy it, 
 So this murmur spreads the voices 
 Of the praying synagogue, 
 As each lip repeats the sinning 
 Of his selfish, godless living, 
 By each mutter low recounting 
 Every single sin and crime — 
 How he falsified his neighbor. 
 Made a stumbling-block for blindness, 
 Cursed the deaf, unstaid the cripple. 
 Played his son and daughter wrong, 
 Tattled of his wife's behavior. 
 Made his father's age a load, 
 Spoke belittling of his mother. 
 Took advantage of the stupid, 
 Made the hungry buy their bread, 
 Turned the needy from his threshold, 
 Clothed the naked with his bareness, 
 Shut the stranger from his fold. 
 Never begged forgiveness, pardon, 
 
The Day of Atonement 27 
 
 For a wrong aimed at a foe, 
 Never weighed the love or mercy 
 Of the Father of the world. 
 Low the lips are now repenting ; 
 Every mutter is a sob 
 Ebbing from the font of being ; 
 Conscience speaks in lowest accents, 
 Lest the voice cry out to men. 
 
 Who has ever heard Kol Nidra 
 Gushing from the breast of man, 
 Rising, falling, as the ocean 
 Lifts the waves in joy or fear. 
 From Time's ocean has it risen ; 
 Every age has lent a murmur, 
 Every cycle built a wail ; 
 Every sorrow ever dwelling 
 In the tortured heart of man. 
 Tears and sighs together swelling, 
 Answer for the pangs of ages. 
 'Tis the voice of coundess pilgrims, 
 Sons of Jacob, with a cry. 
 Moaning, sighing, grieving, wailing. 
 Answering in thousand voices 
 Fate and destiny of man. 
 Winning soul a consolation 
 For their sad allotment's creed ; 
 
2 8 Before the Dawn 
 
 Wander-song of homeless traveler, 
 
 Outcast from the ranks of men ; 
 
 Echoes from the throes of mortals, 
 
 Questioning the ways of God ; 
 
 Song hummed by the lonely desert, 
 
 Prompted by the heart of night, 
 
 Lisped across the sandy borders 
 
 By the desert's trailing wind ; 
 
 Hymn of midnight and the silence, 
 
 Song the friendless stars intone, 
 
 Sung whene'er the tempest hurtles. 
 
 Bruits destruction to the world ; 
 
 Song of every song of sorrow, 
 
 Wail for every grief and woe, 
 
 World affliction, world lamenting ; 
 
 Sorrow of the lonely desert ; 
 
 Sadness of a homeless people ; 
 
 Anguish of a chided mortal. 
 
 Hounded, tracked, oppressed, and beaten. 
 
 Made the scourge of God on earth ; 
 
 Outcry of a sinful bosom 
 
 Warring with his guilt and wrong. 
 
 'Tis a saintly aspiration 
 
 Of a holy soul in prayer ; 
 
 'Tis the music hummed by mercy, 
 
 When the heart is touched by love. 
 
 'Tis the welding of all mercy. 
 
The Day of Atonement 29 
 
 Love, forgiveness, in a union, 
 Sweeping o'er the span of ages, 
 Flooding earth with one majestic, 
 Universal hymn of woe, 
 As if God had willed his children 
 Weep in but one human strain. 
 
 Who can hear this strange Kol Nidra 
 Without dropping in the spell ? 
 Lift the vestige of the present. 
 Link the momentary fleeting 
 Of the evening with the past ; 
 Dwell a spirit in the ages, 
 Living in the heart of time : 
 Lose the sense of outer worlds, 
 Soul alone in endless time. 
 Breathing but the breath of ages. 
 Yesterday with all time one. 
 One with all the lapsing ages, 
 One with all the exiled years, — 
 Crying when this blank creation 
 Rose from denser mystery, 
 Speaking in the living present ; 
 Never dead, unborn, or living. 
 Only being in all time. 
 Spirit gendered from creation. 
 Kindled by a spark of God, 
 
30 Before the Dawn 
 
 Being as the Father, spirit, 
 
 Knowing naught of time or space, 
 
 Living part of that creation 
 
 Woven from the threads of life ; 
 
 FeeHng when the tide of being 
 
 Floats into the sea of death, 
 
 Where the streams of both are cradled. 
 
 Ere they pass the banks of time, 
 
 Where both life and death are nurselings, 
 
 Fostered by one kindly dame. 
 
 Life and death are lonely orphans 
 
 From the spirit realm of God, 
 
 With the sons of God abiding 
 
 In their earthly pilgrimage. 
 
 This the eve of that long day 
 Of atonement and redemption — 
 Day that only Judah knows, — 
 When the faithful sons unravel 
 All the threads of thought and deed : 
 How the acts of men are graven 
 On the mystic scroll of life ; 
 And the glowing page reciting 
 All the deeds he has ordained. 
 Where he acted cruel or kindly, 
 Where his hand was moved to wrong, 
 Where with mercy bent his frame, — 
 
The Day of Atonement 31 
 
 All his virtues, crimes, and sinning 
 Reads he on the open page. 
 Only knowing when we're erring 
 Can we mend the guilty way. 
 Man who sins without the knowledge 
 Is the harmless little babe ; 
 Who designedly, and knowing. 
 Makes the outrage 'gainst his God. 
 Better 'tis to know the error, 
 Than a thought-reft, aimless child ; 
 Better to confess the error 
 Than conceal the guilty deed. 
 Pure the soul with God uniting, 
 Holy as the Father is 
 One with him in life descending, 
 One throughout eternity. 
 
 Then it is that mortal spirit 
 Winds the silvery way toward God, 
 Where the elemental sources 
 Of his spirit have abode. 
 Man descends from heaven's kingdom, 
 Not a banished son of God, 
 But his heir and chosen servant. 
 To effect on earth his plan. 
 Never sin-bestained or burdened 
 Came he to his chosen home — 
 
32 Before the Dawn 
 
 Man, a heavenly son the Father 
 Sent on earth to be a god, 
 Serving here as heaven's agent, 
 As the Father rules above, 
 Spirit of his master spirit, 
 Throbbing with his greater throb. 
 Loving as the great Creator 
 Of that love unites his sons. 
 
 Lo, in secret meditation, 
 When we loose our earthly vesture 
 And the spirit only whispers, 
 Man beholds the near relation 
 Of himself to him above ; 
 For the mercy in his bosom 
 Undefiled descends from him. 
 And the love that makes us brethren 
 Dwells in greater fulness there. 
 What our spirits will and purpose. 
 So the greater Spirit sways. 
 Thus the god within is dwelling ; 
 Man is crowned a smaller god. 
 What is in his bosom holy, 
 What is consecrated, pure. 
 Must be undefiled and stainless 
 So the god within may live. 
 Only sinlessness unites us, 
 
The Day of Atonement 33 
 
 And our guilt divides the way. 
 He who purifies his Hving, 
 Bands with all the sons of God ; 
 Every man becomes his brother, 
 Trusted helper for the good. 
 Who defiles his soul and being, 
 Is eschewed by every one. 
 Man must guard the paths of action ! 
 Only fear of God is man's. 
 Every quality that mortal 
 Manifests throughout his life — 
 Love or justice, hope or mercy. 
 Righteousness and heroism,— 
 All these are the dower of God. 
 Fear of him, the pride of manhood, 
 Self-respect and conscious living, 
 Knowledge of our holy kinship 
 This alone must man create, 
 Drawing from the holy treasure 
 Elements to form the god. 
 Fearing him is never terror. 
 Only knowledge of our ways ; 
 Better, safer, surer guarding. 
 Lest his gifts decay in rust. 
 For the sons alike with Father 
 Are creators in the world. 
 By their common kinship striving 
 
34 Before the Dawn 
 
 For the blessed ends of man. 
 He creates the gifts to grant them ; 
 So must man prepare himself 
 To accept the holy boon. 
 
 Thus the soul of man respondeth 
 As it wanders back to God; 
 Learns how all his life and action 
 Is a trace of the sublime ; 
 How the mind of man unravels 
 All the netted threads of thought, 
 And, unloosened, all the fibers 
 End in but a common band, 
 Held in safest trust by him. 
 Lest his sons should loose their hold. 
 Myriads of threads are woven 
 For the human families. 
 But no strand or fiber severs 
 From the mighty common cord. 
 Even is the deepest thinking, 
 Furthest pushing into mind, 
 All the varied acts of knowing — 
 Poetry and painting, carving. 
 Mathematics, iron trestle. 
 Physics' sportive game with forces, 
 All the children of the Muses — 
 Science, history, and commerce, — 
 
The Day of Atonement 35 
 
 Are all threads of that same cord, 
 Binding all mankind together. 
 So the mind by slow untwining, 
 Reaches for the primal fiber, 
 Wanders on the common highway 
 To the universal mind, 
 Where the common thread is fostered 
 In the mind that wove them all. 
 
 Then the heart of man grows lonely, 
 Yearns for common fellowship 
 With the mind that moves and wills. 
 Where the mind of mortal sojourns 
 Must the heart companion go. 
 Both twinborn gifts of God. 
 So the heart of man, traversing 
 Inward to the seat of soul. 
 Picks the varied threads of feeling. 
 Carries these again to God. 
 And the Father in his kindness 
 Brings the threads of all his children, 
 And, behold ! no thread is stranger, 
 None unlike the common strands ; 
 Love and mercy and forgiveness. 
 These are spun alike in all. 
 With the Father love embraces 
 All the borders of the world ; 
 
2,6 Before the Dawn 
 
 For his sons the threads are woven, 
 Binding all the sons of man. 
 
 Softer now the twilight settles : 
 Through the trying day the faithful 
 Prayed in sad and sobbing accents, 
 Meditated on his actions, 
 Searched the secrets of his bosom, 
 Brought again his soul to God, 
 That he might be purified, 
 Pardoned of his false behavior, 
 Tainting all the ways of life. 
 And refreshed the soul returns, 
 Enters at the gates ajar. 
 And the eveningtide approaching. 
 Swing the gates of day apart. 
 So the golden light of heaven 
 Floods with autumn glow the earth, 
 And the radiance of the heavens 
 Limns the glory of the world. 
 Man is cleansed from earth's defilements; 
 Pure and holy, greets the hour 
 When the gates of twilight sunder. 
 And the day departs for rest. 
 Peace has crowned his meditation, 
 Prayer uplifted him who fell ; 
 For the world and all its beings 
 
The Day of Atonement 37 
 
 Is the twilight peace bestowed. 
 With the sons of man united, 
 One in common brotherhood, 
 Mind and heart of all his children 
 One throughout the universe. 
 Even as his lips are praising 
 Good will to the human race, 
 So the gates of heaven open, 
 And the day of trial is done. 
 
 Open now the gates of heaven. 
 When the gates of day are closed ; 
 Let thy children enter holy 
 To the golden throne of love. 
 Open for us wide the portals 
 At the hour the gates are closed ! 
 We have sought thy throne of mercy, 
 And are pardoned for our sins ; 
 We have welcomed all our brothers, 
 With the light of kindly heaven, 
 Love for all mankind bestowing, 
 Ere the twilight fades in night. 
 Open for us wide the portals. 
 As the gates of day are closing ; 
 Let us enter in thy kingdom, 
 Purified from every sin. 
 Open now the gates of glory. 
 For the day has sunk to rest ! 
 
38 Before the Dawn 
 
 Immortality of Matter 
 
 In faith they do not wholly die, Lord, 
 
 Who praise thy name ; 
 Though stopped their mouth with dust, nor heard 
 
 Their earthly fame, 
 They have not died, that saint or priest 
 
 Who lived to serve ; 
 By men their life is mentioned least, 
 
 Their lives subserve. 
 
 More like the firefly's flashing light 
 
 Would be that life 
 Whose deeds grew small through fear the flight 
 
 From earth and strife, 
 Transported to the markless sight of death : 
 
 The act be good, 
 Thyself and action gains a fuller breath. 
 
 It first withstood. 
 
 Before the smooth-rolled sea we stood. 
 
 And tossed this stone ; 
 A tiny circling ripple breaks on land, 
 
 And some alone 
 
Immortality of Matter 39 
 
 Float out to greet an unknown shore : 
 
 Their course will end 
 When heaven and earth are found no more, 
 
 In masses blend. 
 
 So man may act by laws whose birth 
 
 Was in a star, 
 And strive for ends beyond this earth 
 
 In realms afar. 
 We know not where our actions end : 
 
 Act thou thy part, 
 For God alone can guide the trend 
 
 Of our small art. 
 
40 Before the Dawn 
 
 The Light Beyond 
 
 Were my life not vacant darkness, 
 
 But the light of dawning day, 
 By the sunbeam's glance to follow, 
 
 Firm, secured to wend my way ; 
 Not a groping in thick darkness, 
 
 Pausing at each questioned tread, 
 Doubting at the right and left hand, 
 
 Moving with no goal ahead ! 
 
 But the infant trusts no glances 
 
 At the broad and friendly sun, 
 Seals the fresh and untried eyelids 
 
 Till a firmer glance is won, 
 Then expands its wondrous gazing 
 
 To embrace the heaven' s sweep - 
 Not a sparkle in that vastness 
 
 Does without its gazing keep. 
 
 Oh, perhaps it is my childhood 
 Sees but dim the misty way : 
 
 Comfort rests upon the trusting. 
 Life creates its night and day. 
 
The Light Beyond 41 
 
 I may still dwell in the dawning, 
 In the morn, ere mounts the sun 
 
 On the golden hills of heaven 
 To begin the charger's run. 
 
 Life does not on hewn pathways 
 
 Run its swift and steady course ; 
 Each a wilderness approaches 
 
 When his life begins, perforce. 
 Life has but the tools made ready, 
 
 Man must hew his lonely way : 
 He has reared a greater manhood 
 
 Who breaks through the night to day, 
 
 Life is but a small creation 
 
 Fashioned from the universe ; 
 Planets are the sifted fragments 
 
 Reared by swathing space, their nurse. 
 Man is formed alone by making ; 
 
 Brute is he without the strife : 
 Idleness alone is failure. 
 
 And to strive is only life. 
 
 He who waits the dawn to glisten, 
 
 Stays a prisoner in his cell ; 
 Though the gloom of night enfolds me, 
 
 In the dark I work as well. 
 
42 Before the Dawn 
 
 In the darkness is a pathway- 
 Leading onward to the day : 
 
 Outward is the gaze of ages ; 
 Inward, tracks to slow decay. 
 
 Oh, the hours that fled in weeping, 
 
 Tears that moistened my lament, 
 Waiting only for the morrow, 
 
 When redemption might be sent ! 
 But the morrow saw no dawning, 
 
 And the night was filled with gloom, 
 Life became a sad despairing. 
 
 And my refuge but the tomb. 
 
 Had I only heard the message : 
 
 * ' Struggle through the night to day 
 Let the thickest gloom encircle, 
 
 Be no beacon for the way ' ' ! 
 What in darkness we are seeing 
 
 Can a hero's courage try : — 
 God has given life for striving, 
 
 And to wait is but to die. 
 
The Prophet 43 
 
 The Prophet 
 
 Come, my brethren, let us linger, linger at our tem- 
 ple door, 
 And reclaim the spirit message of our ancient 
 
 mother lore ; 
 Let us gather garbed with reverence and approach 
 
 our temple shrine, 
 Learning what our sainted fathers with prophetic 
 
 soul divine. 
 Spirit children of the fathers seeking God to know 
 
 his law, 
 Who beheld creation sweetened by his majesty 
 
 and awe, 
 Found the dawn to sing of mercy and the even 
 
 whispering love, 
 While the trembling scale of justice spelled the 
 
 starry lights above. 
 Worlds unnumbered touched with being, drinking 
 
 life from one same stream, 
 Wrought the vision of one manhood in their very 
 
 childhood's dream. 
 
44 Before the Dawn 
 
 From citron vales and orange groves, from hills the 
 
 vines have netted, 
 From sylvan glades and mossy fens, from meadows 
 
 brooks have petted, 
 Where pomegranates, sycamores, and cedars 
 
 sweeten air. 
 Where cypress weeps and willow moans, where 
 
 almonds bow in prayer. 
 From pasture lands and grazing plots where Ba- 
 
 shan's kine are browsing 
 And honey-bearing bees disturb and sting the 
 
 flowers from drowsing. 
 Where meek-eyed sheep and timid ewes retrace 
 
 their thought-reft way, 
 Amid the haunts of nature's build, exempt from 
 
 man's survey. 
 We bid our fancy journey forth and traverse there 
 
 today. 
 There to lands the ocean rends, where holy thoughts 
 
 array 
 Imagination, to rebuild and house these ancient men 
 Whose speech has echoed down in time and given 
 
 tongue to pen. 
 Come, mark the shepherd meditate and council 
 
 hold with God, 
 And carve the laws which armored men where'er 
 
 his feet have trod. 
 
The Prophet 45 
 
 Oft night had whispered of her ways, and stars re- 
 voiced their strain, 
 And galaxies had spelled their life, and moons 
 
 divulged their wane, 
 Bold day discoursed his uncrossed powers and 
 
 praised his pageant might. 
 Then flashed across the hollow dome his radiant 
 
 circling light. 
 And dawn departed with a sigh, and twilight mused 
 
 on life. 
 While wind and rain conspired with storms to set 
 
 their anthems rife ; — 
 All nature voiced a single text and jeweled in every 
 
 rock 
 One law — the law of righteousness — the thoughts 
 
 of God unlock. 
 
 Calmly munched the herds their fodder; sunk in 
 thought the shepherd stood. 
 
 Mining from his soul's recesses thoughts to garnish 
 mortal's good, 
 
 Seized from stars illuming heaven thoughts to shape 
 the human race, 
 
 Laws and ordinance of heaven earth will throne in 
 monarch's place. 
 
 Worlds above obey an order ; soon will man em- 
 brace that law. 
 
 What the silent heavens whisper, kindles in man's 
 breast his awe. 
 
46 Before the Dawn 
 
 From the orbits stream forth justice ; Pleiades con- 
 firm the plan ; 
 And the orbs reflect the righteousness to guide the 
 
 steps of man. 
 Pious thoughts from holy subjects learned the 
 
 shepherd in his world, 
 From his mountain lands the vision of the perfect 
 
 man unfurled. 
 Man, the eons will remold him, bring him 'neath 
 
 these world-spanned laws, 
 Teach him of God's mighty workings and acquaint 
 
 him with his cause. 
 He will marvel at his living, find his life an awful 
 
 deed, 
 Praise his God who fashions planets to reveal his 
 
 justice plead. 
 Worlds above prescribe the duty man in action must 
 
 impart ; 
 What the stars sing makes the anthems that must 
 
 sound from every heart ; 
 
 Softly crept the speeding sunbeams, lit with shades 
 
 the eastern hills ; 
 Twilight glimmer gently fading all the mountain 
 
 region fills. 
 Sadness whelming pondering shepherd summons 
 
 duties for his herd, 
 Drawing him from his communion; thought of 
 
 earth the night conferred. 
 
The Prophet 47 
 
 Fields and pasture lands deserted, ways of men the 
 
 hour partakes. 
 Man sees only what is holy when he kindred ways 
 
 betakes. 
 'Mong the cots and huddled dwellings, where the 
 
 people mass and thrive, 
 Where the tongues are ever babbling, men of God 
 
 are not alive. 
 From his woodland and his pasture, from his con- 
 verse with the flowers, 
 From his mountains and the meadow, where he 
 
 mused in waking hours. 
 Came the shepherd with his burdens, with his mes- 
 sage of the spheres — 
 Silent, speechless, meditating, in the realm of man 
 
 appears, 
 Slowly drawing nigh his dwelling, passing through 
 
 the files of men, 
 While they reverence him with terror for his fancied 
 
 demon's ken. 
 Quick he turns ; a cry of anguish thrills his ears 
 
 and stings his heart — 
 Master beating helpless servant makes his tears with 
 
 pity start. 
 Blow on blow the cudgel empties till the form is 
 
 cramped with pain ; 
 With defiance armed, the shepherd hath to earth 
 
 the master lain. 
 
48 Before the Dawn 
 
 Towering o'er him in his manhood, thundering 
 
 from his sweUing throat : 
 " Smitest man as thou created, as a shepherd beats 
 
 his goat ? 
 God hath fashioned man with mercy; know that 
 
 man is not a beast : 
 When the blood is witness bearing, then the servant 
 
 is released." 
 Gnashed the man : a maddened lion casts no harsher, 
 
 threatening look ; 
 Cowed before his stalwart chider, crawled away, his 
 
 path betook. 
 Mangled in the dust the servant, bent the shepherd 
 
 o'er his frame, 
 Querying whether from this wreckage life could flash 
 
 a conscious flame, 
 Propped the servant on his shoulders, bore him 
 
 kindly through the throng, 
 Tended him a patient mother, while the night v/as 
 
 rolled along. 
 Woke the morrow from his torture, scarred from 
 
 master's savage beats, 
 Crawled away bespeaking praises, — to his master 
 
 'gain retreats. 
 
 Then awoke the dawn in glory, touched the hills 
 
 with golden gleam. 
 Woke the birds to warbling music, stirred the 
 
 flowers from midnight's dream. 
 
The Prophet 49 
 
 Kissed the dews that pearled the grasses, whisper- 
 ing greetings to the trees, 
 Lent the leaves their natural sighings, spread the 
 
 rose breath on the breeze. 
 On the mountain slope, the shepherd hearkens to 
 
 the jingling bell 
 As along the winding footpath through the vale the 
 
 echo fell. 
 Quietly crop the herd the grasses freshened by the 
 
 morning dew — 
 Deeper tinted by the moonlight, younger life her 
 
 tears imbue. 
 Now the sun is scaling heaven and the world is all 
 
 ahum ; 
 Golden-throated orioles fleeting take their flight and 
 
 come, 
 Sweeping round the trellised hillside, singing in 
 
 their wanton way. 
 Joyous in the risen sunshine, happy in the light of 
 
 day ; 
 And among his day companions — his uncanny, 
 
 silent friends, — 
 Mid the faithful hillside warders, now the shepherd's 
 
 footstep bends. 
 There among the speechless children may he voice 
 
 his own heart's speech — 
 When the soul is clothed in silence do our visions 
 
 heaven reach : — 
 
50 Before the Dawn 
 
 And towards God his heart was turning — how his 
 blessing he might win, 
 
 How a lonely shepherd peasant might his master 
 offering bring, 
 
 How he meekly in his temple might pronounce his 
 holy name, 
 
 With thanksgiving and devotion light his own re- 
 ligious flame. 
 
 Visions of the holy city did the structured cloudlets 
 
 rear; 
 And the sacred temple precinct through the azure 
 
 hue did peer — 
 Gilded in the varying glitter of the golden noon- 
 day's sun. 
 Glistening in the waving sunbeams, on the mountain 
 
 side was spun. 
 All the splendor of the temple, jeweled with Oriental 
 
 gems. 
 Flashed in beauty in the distance where the spray 
 
 the seacoast hems ; 
 And the fairy minstrel warblers vocalize the Levite 
 
 choir 
 Chanting solemnly the anthem, hearts of worshippers 
 
 inspire. 
 Clothed in chastened robes of Syriac, paced the 
 
 priest the temple hall. 
 Sacredly the stately columns spread o'er him their 
 
 solemn pall. 
 
The Prophet 51 
 
 Multitudes from distant cantons brought their ofter- 
 
 ing to his feet, 
 Begging that divine protection might their warring 
 
 clansmen meet. 
 Altars guarded by cherubim, priestly vessels filled 
 
 with oil, 
 Pictured he the lurking shadows which around the 
 
 mountain coil ; 
 And a merry flock of swallows winging cheerfully 
 
 their flight, 
 Limned the caravan of pilgrims, as they flit before 
 
 his sight. 
 Pulsed emotions grave and holy through his medi- 
 tating frame, 
 In Jerusalem the holy would he call on Yahveh's 
 
 name. 
 
 Westward was the sunlight circling ; and the gates 
 were held ajar, 
 
 Anxious for the fiery driver and his light-bestowing 
 car. 
 
 Peering through the softened glowing shone a lam- 
 bent evening star 
 
 Heralding the patient darkness from the unsought 
 realms afar. 
 
 On the shoulder of the evening rests the moon with 
 silver crest. 
 
 Unvoiced messages of duty to the faithful watch 
 addressed, 
 
52 Before the Dawn 
 
 Days of sacrifice and fasting till the new moon's 
 
 gleams recall 
 Prayer and solemn meditation in the holy temple's 
 
 hall. 
 With the multitude of pilgrims would he lift his 
 
 humble voice ; 
 When the chants of priests were echoed would his 
 
 pious lips rejoice. 
 Oh, the soul that yearns for righteousness and 
 
 longs to walk with God 
 That aspires to reach the higher things and tread 
 
 where seers trod ! 
 Oh, the love that flames in manly breasts, with 
 
 warmth for all mankind ! 
 Thou alone in peace and holiness estranging man 
 
 will bind. 
 
 O'er the roughhewn mountain pathway traced the 
 
 caravan their course ; 
 Camels, asses, prancing chargers, mingle in the vast 
 
 concourse 
 Streaming forth to flood the city, where the holy 
 
 temple stood, 
 Filled the air with babel voices from the motley 
 
 multitude. 
 Crawling toilsome through the passes, quarreling at 
 
 each trifling turn, 
 Angrily the host advances to the sacred temple 
 
 bourn. 
 
The Prophet 53 
 
 Silently the lonely shepherd stirred the dust of 
 
 thousand feet, 
 Sadly waiting for the pageant in the distance he 
 
 would greet, 
 When, alack ! a cry of anguish rings its heart- 
 subduing wail — 
 Brutally a helpless woman cast with curses from the 
 
 trail, 
 And for pity begs imploring to be spared the lonely 
 
 tramp 
 To the city 'neath the noontide, and the chill of 
 
 midnight's damp. 
 Harshly growled the savage chieftain, cursed her 
 
 and her father's race. 
 Called the righteous skies to smite her and redeem 
 
 this unclean place. 
 Piously the tender mother guards her weeping 
 
 orphan child. 
 Praying for the hand of mercy in these mountains 
 
 waste and wild. 
 When the mute and speechless shepherd halts 
 
 before the outcast pair, 
 Turns with mercy towards the woman, tends her 
 
 with his kindly care. 
 Breathing words of helpful comfort, bears her bur- 
 dens in his train, 
 Marches onward to the distance till the city they 
 
 regain. 
 
54 Before the Dawn 
 
 In the temple have they gathered all the pilgrims 
 
 of the land, 
 In the sacred halls of worship trembling do the 
 
 people stand. 
 Awful are the vast proportions reaching far beyond 
 
 his view : 
 What is massive is majestic ; what is great does awe 
 
 imbue. 
 Silently the humble shepherd drinks the quaffs of 
 
 longed-for sight, 
 But the glory of his vision vanished as departing 
 
 light. 
 All the solemness was clamor, all the awe was 
 
 petty brawls, 
 And the chants of priests were mingled with the 
 
 shouts from echoing halls. 
 
 Where the altar's incense offered, where the f^tes of 
 
 Baalish rites 
 Mingled with the pure and holy, linked the worship 
 
 of "the heights," 
 When the flame of holy horror burned with vigor 
 
 in his frame. 
 And inspired the shepherd madly at defilements of 
 
 his holy name. 
 Dashed the offering from the altars, smote the 
 
 merchants in the hall, 
 Grasped his goad with threatening glances, drove 
 
 them meekly to the wall, 
 
The Prophet 55 
 
 And with trembling lips addressed them, he the 
 
 shepherd from the land, 
 Spoke in voice of thunder-magic, swayed them with 
 
 his molding hand : 
 "Sons of Judah, be this worship when we desecrate 
 
 his name, 
 When ye call on foreign godheads and their service 
 
 be your aim. 
 When ye offer herds of cattle and the temple 
 
 streams with oil. 
 When your helpless brethren perish by your hard, 
 
 oppressive toil ? 
 Where is mercy when ye revel ? where is prayer in 
 
 slaughter pen ? 
 Is there holiness in bart' ring ? where is righteous- 
 ness in m.en ? 
 What is sacrifice to Yahveh ? does the ruler of the 
 
 spheres 
 Heed your hecatombs of cattle through the new 
 
 moons and the years ? 
 For your hearts are brass and iron, and the tears of 
 
 widowed wife 
 Do not soothe the sorrow -beaten in your wrangle 
 
 and your strife. 
 Heaven will revolt and smite you; all your har- 
 vests will be naught. 
 And the God who judges heaven will devour your 
 
 fields with drought. 
 
56 Before the Dawn 
 
 Who are ye who enter temples to defile my holy 
 
 name? 
 With my thunder will I smite you, and consume 
 
 you with my flame. 
 In the earthquake hangs my anger, and the tempest 
 
 is my ire, 
 And the brazen desert simoon is my flash of wrath- 
 ful fire. 
 Shall the vineyard mourn the vintage, and the 
 
 wheat fields moan the grain ? 
 Shall this earth yearn for her moisture, and the 
 
 heavens jail their rain ? 
 Earth will tremble ere my message wings its voice 
 
 to man amiss — 
 That my righteousness is holy and my sacrifice is 
 
 this: 
 Holiness thy worship : be thy life as calm as dawn, 
 Softer than retiring sunbeams when the evening 
 
 creeps along. 
 God alone doth walk majestic ; be his children meek 
 
 before him, 
 And address his throne with gladness, with the 
 
 cymbal and the hymn. 
 Is this sacrifice, ye merchants, princes of the land, 
 
 the great, 
 When ye barter with the widow, with the poor for 
 
 lucre prate? 
 
The Prophet 57 
 
 Is the temple of the Father nigh but those who 
 
 jingle gold? 
 Does his heart throb for the mighty ? are the meek 
 
 without his fold ? 
 Ye the humble are his children, and his tears are 
 
 for the just ; 
 Not the lofty mind beholds God, but he lowered to 
 
 the dust. 
 Will ye smite me? What God willeth echoes in the 
 
 shepherd's voice; 
 Harken to his words and listen. What does his 
 
 voice say to ye? 
 Naught but truth that is not blinding; truth he 
 
 whispers unto me. 
 Ye sons of Jacob, hearken ; not in thunder dwells 
 
 his speech, 
 Not the lightning guards his message, but the heart 
 
 his pleadings reach. 
 Know that thou art man, as himself he hath thee 
 
 made. 
 In thy soul is love implanted ; righteousness is there 
 
 arrayed. 
 Thus the light of morning triumphs over hostile foes 
 
 of night, 
 Man arises : be thou holy ; make thy peace by 
 
 Yahveh's light; 
 
58 Before the Dawn 
 
 And our God will spread his knowledge o'er the 
 
 land and on the sea, 
 And the world in later ages made the world that is 
 
 to be." 
 
 But the priests were mad with fury, and they drove 
 
 him from his stand, 
 Flew upon his noble visage, overpowered his 
 
 struggling hand, 
 Beat him far beyond his living, cast his carcass from 
 
 the hall. 
 Dragged it from the temple precinct, hurled it o'er 
 
 the city wall ; 
 And the hungry fowls of heaven and the lurking 
 
 dogs of earth, 
 Feasted on the noblest mortal God had ever fur- 
 nished birth. 
 But his voice has lost no echoes; still his words 
 
 resound today : 
 And the life of man is molded by the souls who 
 
 pass away. 
 
The Travelers 59 
 
 The Travelers 
 
 Not lonely ; on a desert waste, 
 
 In solitude, or friendless cast, 
 The traveler in urging haste 
 
 Betakes his way, to rest at last 
 By willowed streams or cooling pool. 
 
 He is not single on his way ; 
 Two constant unseen pilgrims rule 
 
 His path and guide him night and day. 
 
 One pilgrim cheers the toilsome route 
 
 With promise of reward ahead ; 
 And turns all hesitating, mute, 
 
 By tributes to the task instead; 
 With hopeful trust he grasps the hand, 
 
 Marks habitation in the space ; 
 In vision sees the promised land, 
 
 And triumph smiling on his face. 
 
 He beckons on, and "Forward" cries; 
 
 " Surmount the hilltops towering high ; 
 Make every plain beneath the skies ; 
 
 As easy streams to ferry by ; 
 
6o Before the Dawn 
 
 But ever onward ! never halt ! 
 
 The end is hidden in each tread, 
 That will the journey's toil exalt : 
 
 So, onward ! see the goal ahead ! ' * 
 
 The other pilgrim calmer sighs. 
 
 Is bent with bitter age and spite. 
 Blots out the footprints that arise. 
 
 And waits with patience for the night. 
 He drags hard by, and tugs the robe, 
 
 Would bind each step in every move, 
 Frowns archedly as though a load 
 
 The plodding of his journey drove. 
 
 He ever cries, "O do not go ! 
 
 The goal ahead is strangely new ; 
 'Tis darkness there, we do not know 
 
 By searching it forget the true. 
 O stay but where for ages stood 
 
 Our blessed goal ! why journey on? 
 With us has dwelt the true and good. 
 
 And what more can abide beyond? " 
 
 And thus the traveler hears these two 
 Plead each the journey to betake. 
 
 On whom shall he bestow adieu. 
 
 Or, heeding whom, which mate forsake? 
 
The Travelers 6i 
 
 He moves between their pleading voice, 
 And trusts the virtue of his soul 
 
 To guide him in his vital choice ; 
 And wonder 'tis he meets his goal. 
 
62 Before the Dawn 
 
 Burial in a Lonely Churchyard 
 
 Slowly tread the mournful marching 
 
 With the burden of the dead. 
 Though the sun is heaven arching, 
 
 Gloom descends from overhead. 
 Droop the eyelids, still the cheering 
 
 Of a thoughtless wren or thrush ; 
 Still the whispering breezes fearing 
 
 Neither life nor death — all hush. 
 
 When a mother's heart is breaking. 
 
 Let us bend in awe our head ; 
 Not farewell is she then taking, 
 
 But herself dies with her dead. 
 Though so bright the earth and sunny, 
 
 Could the sunshine sob or mourn ? 
 When the land is gay and bonny, 
 
 Must he to his grave be borne ? 
 
 But we paused beside the churchyard, 
 Paid our tribute to the dead ; 
 
 In this solemn rite, none forward 
 Who nigh to the grave are led. 
 
Burial in a Lonely Churchyard 63 
 
 Here we find our common kinship ; 
 
 Strangers unto strangers speak ; 
 And the mutter on the lip 
 
 Joins the stronger with the weak. 
 
 Who is he they sadly carry, — 
 
 Bend their frames to hide their face ? 
 Why upon each footstep tarry 
 
 Lest too soon they reach the place 
 Where the mother earth receives him 
 
 Whom his mother sobbed farewell, 
 And the chanting of a hymn 
 
 Answers that his lot is well ? 
 
 Slow, with steady step, the preacher 
 
 Stands before the fresh- turned grave. 
 Death's consoler, but life's teacher, 
 
 Must through hope the stricken save. 
 Soft he speaks of life's redemption. 
 
 Of his brother's homeward call ; 
 Comforts with the soothing mention — 
 
 Life's one destiny for all. 
 
 They who till the soil are nearest 
 
 To the call of life or death ; 
 To them only is earth dearest, 
 
 Who have felt her throb and breath. 
 
64 Before the Dawn 
 
 Earth is truly their one mother ; 
 
 She has nursed them with her care : 
 She provideth them ; no other 
 
 Earns their faithful, humble prayer. 
 
 Ah ! they know, who spread the wrapping 
 
 Of the sod about his bier 
 To the earth returned, no happ'ning 
 
 With death's rest will interfere. 
 Saved is he, and, in their vision, 
 
 Nearer to the throne of God 
 Than we who provide derision 
 
 For the humbler sons of clod. 
 
 Will his soul arise to heaven ? 
 
 Enter in his Father's home? 
 He alone, to whom was given 
 
 Soul in earthward wake to come, 
 Reascend again, and single, 
 
 Cleansed from earth' s polluting wear ? 
 With the Father freely mingle ? 
 
 Dwell in peace abiding there? 
 
 I can never fancy mortal 
 
 Parted from his human kind, 
 
 In some distant realm to tell 
 
 How earth's creatures wend and wind. 
 
Burial in a Lonely Churchyard 65 
 
 Oh, there is no soul alone, 
 
 Here on earth or there above ; 
 Soul it is of every one 
 
 Blessing with our deeds of love. 
 
 What is his soul without my soul ? 
 
 Is our life by self ordained ? 
 Do the breakers rush or roll. 
 
 By themselves be calmed or chained ? 
 Oh, no more the one we mourn, 
 
 Lest we moan the human lot ; 
 And the sigh to heaven borne 
 
 Is the grief of all forgot. 
 
 Oh, we need no more the grieving 
 
 Of the one without the whole. 
 Not the self alone we're leaving; 
 
 Only man is now our goal. 
 Self is only of the darkness 
 
 We through tears and sighs outgrew, 
 And the larger self must bless 
 
 Larger manhood born anew. 
 
 Bid no more my soul to flee 
 
 From the bourne of earth and time, 
 
 Saved throughout eternity 
 For the holy and sublime ; 
 
66 Before the Dawn 
 
 My soul shall no more be worth 
 What tithes not the human race ; 
 
 And the good must even girth 
 Every mortal in his place. 
 
 We but live through greater living ; 
 
 Life partakes of only life ; 
 By our labors we are giving 
 
 Only what in man is rife. 
 Though my soul receives my care, 
 
 Man does send the sleepless guard 
 When I pray it is the prayer 
 
 Not a soul would dare retard. 
 
 Yea, my soul endow expanses 
 
 Till it forms a smaller part 
 Of the one who life enhances — 
 
 Who the gainer in the art ? 
 Shall myself alone be reckoned 
 
 Better than my human kind ? 
 Every part that mortals beckoned 
 
 But with human hearts to bind ? 
 
 Who in heaven is the chooser? 
 
 Who discerns what heaven wants ? 
 Is there yonder a refuser 
 
 For the boons my bosom pants ? 
 
Burial In a Lonely Churchyard 67 
 
 My wish grows upon the craving 
 Of each earthly son and child ; 
 
 All the race reveals the saving 
 When we wander loose and wild. 
 
 How is then my soul perfected ? 
 
 Man alone can purify, 
 By the will of man corrected, 
 
 All the faults ourselves defy. 
 From the race no soul can wander 
 
 Towards the misty shores of space ; 
 Parted from the ranks we flounder, 
 
 Die without the human race. 
 
 Over him the earth is strewn, 
 
 And the sunshine dries the tears ; 
 In their hearts his deeds are hewn, 
 
 There abides for weeks and years. 
 And his soul ? — alas ! I know not 
 
 Where in heaven's realm 'twill rest, 
 Were it not our human lot 
 
 To preserve each brother's best. 
 
 We are gifted by the living 
 
 Of each son who treads on earth ; 
 
 By each life a life is giving 
 
 To enlarge our scope and worth. 
 
6S Before the Dawn 
 
 We are all the vanished ages, 
 So are we the soul of all ; 
 
 And when death our life assuages, 
 Still I live despite the call ! 
 
A Psalm for Toilers 69 
 
 A Psalm For Toilers 
 
 Say not that * ' my life is lonely, ' ' 
 When your hand can turn a deed ; 
 
 There is quiet to him only 
 
 Whom death frees from every need. 
 
 Where a cry of pain is pleading, 
 Where a soul cries in distress, 
 
 Where a mother's heart is bleeding, 
 There thy life will find ingress. 
 
 Life, alas, is small and narrow, 
 When ourself is all we tend ; 
 
 More from neighbor must we borrow, 
 That in fuller life we blend. 
 
 God has given man this kingdom, 
 Earth the planet for his home ; 
 
 Here he dwelt and wrought his freedom, 
 As the years and ages come. 
 
 Earth is not man's only treasure; 
 
 Without him the earth is bare : 
 He must add a higher measure 
 
 To the growth in rudeness there. 
 
70 Before the Dawn 
 
 Earth shall be a heaven banished ! 
 
 This, man's kingdom and abode: 
 If a higher world has vanished, 
 
 Man must bring to earth his god. 
 
 Deeply planted in his bosom 
 Are the roots of human love ; 
 
 By his deeds this love will blossom, 
 Rich as in some realm above. 
 
 Man is more the god in being, 
 Moved to kindly, noble deeds, 
 
 Than the saint a heaven seeing 
 
 When his way from mankind leads. 
 
 Heaven spreads in glory o' er us ; 
 
 Glory too dwells in the race ; 
 Man is crowned a saint in fulness 
 
 When love's light illumes his face. 
 
 Shall we wait, when all creation 
 
 Cries aloud for only man? 
 ♦ Shall we sit in brute cessation, 
 When to do is but to plan. 
 
 Oh to hear the ceaseless pleading. 
 When a touch will ease a pain ! 
 
 Oh to see a mortal heeding 
 
 Only what will bring him gain ! 
 
A Psalm for Toilers 71 
 
 And my heart bursts with an anger 
 
 That the freedom fathers won 
 Slips away because our languor 
 
 Wills no hero-living done. 
 
 Meekly wait we for the morrow, 
 Trusting that each dawn will bring 
 
 What we lose in tears or sorrow, 
 All the greed of man can wring. 
 
 Then we whimper, ' ' Life is dreaming. 
 And the grave our only goal." 
 
 God ! is life an empty seeming, 
 And thy spirit not my soul ? 
 
 But to do is godly action ; 
 
 God with his own children works ! 
 Doing is the world's refraction; 
 
 In our deeds divineness lurks. 
 
 And I know no hand is willing 
 
 To decry the Maker's use ; 
 When our life with faith is thrilling. 
 
 Idleness is coward's excuse. 
 
 Hopelessness no deed should bridle ; 
 Earth repeats her strong command, 
 ' ' Let no mortal here be idle, 
 
 Work awaits each willing hand." 
 
72 Before the Dawn 
 
 Meditations at Twilight 
 
 Ah ! more and more at evening, 
 
 When twilight edges to its end, 
 And darkness, eastern caverns leaving, 
 
 Her shadows o'er creation bend. 
 Do those thin moments foster musing 
 
 Upon the pageant of decay, 
 As glory into night diffusing 
 
 Brings untoward sadness in her way. 
 
 'Tis then that sorrow overcomes me. 
 
 In this so calm and peaceful hour, — 
 A vague, unspoken, silent pity, 
 
 Because our earth stoops to the power 
 Of this most calm and tender spell : 
 
 A cloud it seems of some despair, 
 A dim regret that days dispel 
 
 Such golden grandeur to the air. 
 
 Thus lingers in the hour a strain 
 Of all our sorrow, all the care 
 
 Our life has witnessed, all the pain 
 Redemption seeks with prayer — 
 
Meditations at Twilight 73 
 
 The cry of legions, silent tears 
 
 Of ages and our generation : 
 So palls this silence, and it wears 
 
 With awe the veil of veneration. 
 
 Yet more than all this sorrow, fear 
 
 That faith and love, the clasps of life. 
 Are weakened, vanquished, year by year, 
 
 When by our dimming doubts and strife 
 With thought we combat even God, 
 
 And question more his unread law 
 Than wisdom, treading on this sod. 
 
 Or her firstborn children, saw. 
 
 Emboldened by the searching age, 
 
 I too would spy the misty shores, 
 And hearken to the ceaseless rage 
 
 Of time, make music from his roars ; 
 I too with doubt and shy mistrust, 
 
 Exploit the certainty of things, 
 And turn the soul of man to dust. 
 
 Make discord when our trusting sings. 
 
 A very child of this odd clime, 
 
 Yet saddened now by doubt's dark cloud, 
 That decks the sweeter childhood time 
 
 Of life, I argue with a shroud. 
 
74 Before the Dawn 
 
 And render e'en the hush of death 
 Quite vocal, setting in the frame 
 
 Of death a sound, and Hving breath ; 
 Call life and death by one same name. 
 
 The world of doubt and man's despair 
 
 Could flood my bosom with regret, 
 With sorrow breathe the evening air, 
 
 And trust the anguish would forget : 
 New life, new visions throb my being ; 
 
 My heart beats with the sires of old, 
 Uplifted by their vision, seeing 
 
 What man by doubting must withhold. 
 
 Within that evening hour there comes 
 
 A recollection, faint and dim. 
 Of boyhood, Sabbath lights, and homes, 
 
 Of synagogue, and temple hymn ; 
 When in abated breath we heard 
 
 The echoes of our spirit fathers 
 In praise and reverential word 
 
 Of prayer. Their kindly spirit hovers ; 
 
 Their hymns reecho in my dream. 
 
 They too felt doubt, despondency. 
 And saw our mistrusts also beam 
 
 In thought. The sage and poet's fancy 
 
Meditations at Twilight 75 
 
 Gave them hope beyond the mind : 
 Howe'er by mist God's way be hid, 
 
 His thoughts with all his children bind, 
 His mercy will no man forbid. 
 
 Far more than reason could control 
 
 They felt their God to live and be, 
 And taught in faith their heart and soul 
 
 Beyond the bounds of mystery — 
 Not faith absorbed by childish trust, 
 
 Nor thoughtless words without intent, 
 But faith that man is more than dust, 
 
 And God on righteous ways is bent. 
 
 Too contrite to mistrust the plan 
 
 Their Father had for earth ordained, 
 Too willing to accept for man 
 
 The duty : * ' More of God be gained ! 
 Let night be night, but Hve in day ; 
 
 Go, turn to peace each rankling strife, 
 For God conceals no hidden way 
 
 To him who walks with God through life." 
 
 But thee all times thy children sought, 
 And found thy mercy hath no end : 
 
 Be greater deeds and actions wrought 
 On earth today than in the trend 
 
76 Before the Dawn 
 
 Of generations turned to dust ; 
 
 Our bosom still with love must heave, 
 With hope and common manful trust — 
 
 The rest to God we meekly leave. 
 
 And while the awful spell abides, 
 
 Comes consolation for the pain ; 
 From us our Father nothing hides. 
 
 Since towards him is our steady gain. 
 We are as all mankind have been ; 
 
 We too draw nigh with him alone, 
 And find as all his sons have seen, 
 
 A God is seated on the throne. 
 
 Each pilgrim climbs the weary way 
 
 To loftier heights and misty clouds ; 
 Each valiant soul would plain array 
 
 The darkness which our vision shrouds ; 
 God always dwells one peak beyond ; 
 
 Man's highest reach is God's footstool; 
 Upon man's height his script is conned. 
 
 And praise to him who gave that rule. 
 
 And so the twilight now may come. 
 With trailing sorrow in its wake ; 
 
 Not helplessly need I to roam, 
 Nor fully of its grief partake. 
 
Meditations at Twilight 77 
 
 The world becomes thus man's abode 
 By these same sorrows, this same grief; 
 
 Without a common plane to tread, 
 In death would be our sole relief. 
 
 And, lo ! upon yon bright ascent, 
 
 There glitters joyously the star, 
 Proclaiming night. Ah ! day has sent 
 
 Her messengers of light afar. 
 Come, spirit of the evening, dwell 
 
 With us, and in our life's increase 
 Of doubt, and the annoying spell 
 
 Of discontent, to us bring peace. 
 
78 Before the Dawn 
 
 Call of a Poet 
 
 Though my song may want the music, 
 Thanks to God the song is there ; 
 
 Though I dwell not with the masters, 
 Still I breathe their buoyant air. 
 
 O repress my vapid mouthings, 
 Call this stirring voice to halt : 
 
 When I mutter harsh and vainly, 
 I am called ; ' tis not my fault ! 
 
 Spirits hear I ; though your hearing 
 Seals the sound beyond your reach, 
 
 Me they signal and communion, 
 E'en implore, abjure, beseech. 
 
 By their auras am I charmed. 
 
 Fault is it to hear their voice ? 
 Sinning were it to prevent it, 
 
 And refuse their untoward choice. 
 
 Love of man they ever mutter, 
 Love of life, of earth, and more ; 
 
 Make from earth a heaven vanished. 
 Peace amid the strife and roar. 
 
Call of a Poet 79 
 
 In the soul of every mortal 
 
 Is the touch of God made plain ; 
 
 Live, then, in the light of heaven, 
 
 Heaven, through earth, once more to gain. 
 
 Sing ! though soundless be the message, 
 
 Ring in mighty tones thy word ! 
 Of the living none may hear thee ; 
 
 At the throne of God 'tis heard. 
 
8o Before the Dawn 
 
 Songs of Poets 
 
 Though their music be mortal, need the singer greatly care? 
 
 Poet, let not all thy music 
 
 Echo from the woods or dale, 
 Though entrancing be the magic 
 
 When it lifts a sigh or wail. 
 
 Oh, the dreariness of living 
 Finds no softer, sweeter balm. 
 
 Than the drops the leaves are giving 
 When the winds are low and calm, 
 
 And to hearken to the humming 
 Of the countless wafted strains, 
 
 Liquid notes from visions coming, 
 Chirrups, carols, and refrains. 
 
 He who dwells in melody 
 
 Makes the woodland copse his home ; 
 Nature tunes her harmony 
 
 Where her chosen singers come. 
 
 Birds are poets of the forest : 
 Hearken to their stirring rhyme ! 
 
 Cheers from them in spring and harvest, 
 Floods of music all the time. 
 
Songs of Poets 8i 
 
 And I would, as I am wearied 
 
 Of this world and senseless life, 
 There to dwell, a hermit buried, 
 
 Live above this cheapening strife, 
 
 Drown the roar of street and bustle 
 
 With the flute notes of a bird, 
 And the only sound a rustle 
 
 Of a birch or pine tree heard. 
 
 Poet, thou whose heart is thrilling 
 With an anguish, pang, and strain. 
 
 To the leaves and forest willing- 
 Songs to ease our human pain ! 
 
 Sing the struggles of our living — 
 Songs of oppressed human hearts, 
 
 Where the masses crowd, and, seething, 
 Sell and barter in the marts ; 
 
 Where the selfishness of savage 
 
 Rages as the thunder's roar. 
 And the grasping hands do ravage 
 
 As the slavery of yore. 
 
 And the men no longer traffic 
 
 With the toiler's handiwork : — 
 Soul and heart, our life and being 
 
 In those sleek exchanges lurk. 
 
82 Before the Dawn 
 
 Here, O singer, find the measure ! 
 
 Man sings only such a song, 
 Wherein beats and accents treasure 
 
 What does to his life belong. 
 
 Love of fellow-man and country, 
 
 Brotherhood, and right the themes, — 
 
 Labor paid in wholesome bounty, — 
 These illume the poet's dreams. 
 
 Grander monument arises 
 
 From the feeling heart of man 
 
 Than the harp or lyre apprises 
 
 When their range the fingers scan. 
 
 Though they mock both song and singer, 
 Jeer the throbbing heart with scorn. 
 
 Shake the judge's caution finger. 
 Weep for you, and even mourn. 
 
 Poet's more than judge or censor — 
 Singer for the Lord on high ! 
 
 Sing triumphant as a mentor ; 
 Heaven's message drags no sigh ! 
 
 Sing as one divinely chanting ; 
 
 Be the oracle of God — 
 Seer even, prophet ranting, 
 
 Godlike on this earthly sod. 
 
Songs of Poets 83 
 
 What then are the HUs and ditties, 
 
 Floating dreamhke on refrains? 
 Voices cry from out our cities, 
 
 Stirring deeper, nobler strains ! 
 
 These must be the song's chief burden : 
 
 For the self we need no song ; 
 Only for the people, stir them 
 
 'Gainst the mighty host of wrong. 
 
 Make us feel our life has worth ! 
 
 Link the lowest with the high ; 
 Dear to him who calls us forth, — 
 
 None made subjects but to die ! 
 
 Raise the higher note of manhood, 
 
 Lest the brute rewin his plot ! 
 When men know they act as God would, 
 
 Paradise becomes their lot. 
 
 He is godlike who is manlike ; 
 
 Heaven is a larger earth : 
 Though the two seem ever unlike, 
 
 Nearer draw they by each birth. 
 
84 Before the Dawn 
 
 Songs of the Future 
 
 Come, my dear one, while the evening 
 
 Closes on a wearied world ; 
 Let me, with my fancy weaving 
 
 Truths a later thought unfurled. 
 Here upon this bank reclining, 
 
 Watch the shadows on the sea, 
 Mark the waning sunbeams twining 
 
 Only deeper thoughts for me. 
 
 Here we rest ; and silence lingers, 
 
 Wraps the thought and thinker both, 
 Calms the music of the singers. 
 
 Makes the task of speaking loath. 
 Now the soothing song of wooers. 
 
 Now to sigh my lover' s speech ! 
 When the sunlight slants and lowers 
 
 Do our hearts their wants beseech. 
 
 Shall it be to sing an old rhyme 
 Redolent with mirth of yore — 
 
 Bring the youth and glee of May time 
 From the ages gone afore ? 
 
Songs of the Future 85 
 
 Shall it be the robust humor, 
 
 Harshly thundered from the throat, 
 
 Slipping into calm the sooner 
 
 Through the loud and rasping note ? 
 
 Oh, the sweet and lulling verses 
 
 From the troubadours of old ! 
 Oh, their songs a love rehearses, 
 
 Never false, or trite, or cold ! 
 From their font of melody 
 
 Only one clear stream to flow, 
 With its murmurs to enfold me 
 
 As the ripples come and go ! 
 
 On this music would I hearken. 
 
 Draw upon me its soft spell. 
 Gladdened that when shadows darken 
 
 Sweetness does from mortals quell. 
 Though the earth in gloom is drooping. 
 
 Sadness in the wind and air, 
 By their songs a heart is hoping, 
 
 Once defeated by despair. 
 
 And I would my lips had magic, 
 
 Charmed the heart and thrilled the soul ; 
 
 By a bowstring and a note trick 
 Win the lonely to control. 
 
86 Before the Dawn 
 
 With the song of ancient singers, 
 And the lay and Maypole dance : 
 
 Where a strain with mankind lingers, 
 Peace is king of sword and lance. 
 
 So, my dear one, let me sing you 
 
 Only tunes men hummed before — 
 Live those happy, childish days, too. 
 
 We lament, and live no more ! 
 But I know — and greater sadness 
 
 Makes the hidden secret true — 
 Chanting those old tunes were madness 
 
 When we're craving for the new ! 
 
 No, today the lyre's not silent ! 
 
 Men must strike a newer chord ; 
 Singing has a younger content, 
 
 More than could the old afford. 
 Serenades and lovely maiden 
 
 Fitted once the land of Spain ; 
 Orange blossoms, music laden, 
 
 With a rapturous refrain ; 
 
 Citron vales and cypress moaning, 
 Bluish skies and heaven's deep; 
 
 Lovers over oceans roaming 
 To behold their mistress weep. 
 
Songs of the Future Sy 
 
 No, my dear one, we no longer 
 Sing as did those gallant knights. 
 
 And our love has grown the stronger 
 With our freer, juster rites. 
 
 He who lives today must answer 
 
 Echoes from the hearts of men — 
 They who live today and transfer 
 
 Things within their sight and ken. 
 Man has greater, vaster consorts ; 
 
 Power and force are his domain ; 
 With the mighty are his resorts, — 
 
 Nature wild, unbound to gain. 
 
 Man supreme above all forces, 
 
 Man the king and subject both ! 
 Pride of power within him courses — 
 
 Sing the stages of his growth ! 
 He is Hke a giant restored. 
 
 Feels and acts like kings of eld ; 
 Through the mountain's heart he burrowed, 
 
 With his sinews oaks are felled. 
 
 He before no tyrant cowers ; 
 
 Men have equal right with kings ! 
 From the throne a scepter lowers, 
 
 Makes the reign of man begin ! 
 
88 Before the Dawn 
 
 Wider reigning now must follow ; 
 
 Men shall not by gold be high ! 
 Man before all things to hallow, 
 
 Only manhood deify ! 
 
 And the past can claim no vision 
 
 Which the future will not rear ; 
 In the distance dwells the region 
 
 We approach from year to year. 
 Then will man revive his freedom, 
 
 Live exempt from drossy toil ; 
 Every country, then, his kingdom. 
 
 Every land his native soil ! 
 
 Though the night is now upon us, 
 
 See, the same soft moonbeams shine, 
 Flood the earth with patient calmness. 
 
 As my heart is calmed by thine. 
 Shall we hum a tune for cheering ? 
 
 Murmur while the breezes rest ? 
 Make the moments all endearing, 
 
 As you lean upon my breast ? 
 
 Oh, for you my lips would utter 
 
 Songs won from the new and young, 
 
 Out from this new world to flutter. 
 On the newer harpchords strung. 
 
Songs of the Future 89 
 
 Though the old has now departed, 
 Song in man shall never cease ; 
 
 Strong as men today are hearted, 
 Music can alone win peace. 
 
 So I would that we could linger 
 
 Till the night suffused our soul. 
 And the grandeur stir the singer 
 
 Till the songs would rush and roll : 
 And I know the song I'd utter 
 
 Would be praise of earth today ; 
 Though my lips would faintly mutter, 
 
 This alone would stir and sway. 
 
90 Before the Dawn 
 
 An Incident at the Fair 
 
 I NEVER thought a county fair 
 Would make a theme for poets ; 
 
 No, never felt such common things 
 Our range and loftier flight befits. 
 
 Oh, in our youth we all encase 
 This earth with flowery vestment, 
 
 And never trust to common clay 
 For beauty's bold attestment. 
 
 We cannot trust our good old earth 
 With higher gifts and dower ; 
 
 Our eye must dwell upon the far 
 Or condescend to greet a flower. 
 
 The beautiful in distant zones, 
 What's furthest from our ken, 
 
 We fancy fittest themes and plots 
 To guide our speech and pen. 
 
 To common earth we seldom glance 
 
 For beauty unadorned ; 
 The grandeur near our very gaze 
 
 Is often veiled or scorned. 
 
An Incident at the Fair 91 
 
 'TIs growing age that gains esteem 
 
 For earthly presentation : 
 To youth for beauty, age for sense, 
 
 We lean for estimation. 
 
 We came upon the county fair 
 With loss of childish pleasure, 
 
 In those gay buildings, merry crowds, 
 Beheld no joy or treasure ; 
 
 With lack of sympathy's accord. 
 
 Bestowed a careless eye 
 Upon each gaudy booth and stand. 
 
 And coldly passed each by. 
 
 About the racecourse people flocked — 
 
 A singular exhibit — 
 Without a rival, jockey, aid, 
 
 A mare alone would run it. 
 
 A sleek and splendid animal. 
 
 Cleaned, combed, and fleet-appearing, 
 Was lead in front the judges' stand. 
 
 No crowds or noises fearing. 
 
 The signal given, blankets donned, 
 She starts upon her single race ; 
 
 And every head and neck is stretched 
 To see her run and pace. 
 
92 Before the Dawn 
 
 Each leg gains on the speeding pair ; 
 
 Around she flies, pursuing 
 A foe invisible ahead — 
 
 Herself the speed imbuing. 
 
 And now the final goal she sights — 
 The scene has gained confusion ; — 
 
 She crossed the tape in hurried flight ; 
 Our praises mount profusion. 
 
 Applause shouts to the autumn air 
 The cheers we all bestow her ; 
 
 She knows not what the noises mean, 
 Nor can we even show her. 
 
 It is with us ; we mortals feel 
 Her singular advancement 
 
 To higher mind, and wisdom's plane, 
 Upborne by mind's enhancement. 
 
 We praise the feat, much more the rise, 
 That lifts her from the common beast : 
 
 A higher station in the world. 
 We feel she justly won, at least. 
 
 With beast or man we praise the rise 
 From lower depths to higher ends ; 
 
 We hail the uplift where it is 
 
 When lowest into highest blends. 
 
The School Bell 93 
 
 The School Bell 
 
 *' O COME, little children, and dwell with me; 
 
 Have you heard the love I bring you all ? 
 A mother for all my flock to be 
 
 Is the plea of my ring and the wish of my call." 
 Thus rings the bell from the schoolhouse tower, 
 A merry note for the morning hour ; 
 And children trudge from house and home, 
 With noisy clatter and laughter come. 
 Some hurry along ; some drag their way ; 
 Some hide and wait to flee the day : 
 A fulsome flock is gathered withal 
 To answer the cry of the school bell's call. 
 
 *' O come, Httle children, and dwell with me; 
 
 Together we'll tread a winding way. 
 And both look sharp for what we may see, 
 
 As earth spreads out her strange array." 
 Thus rings the bell from the schoolhouse tower, 
 A cheerful note for the morning hour ; 
 And happy the world when life is young, 
 And toil and strife are but begun. 
 The children's eyes see all unfold — 
 The story of life about to be told. 
 A fulsome flock will come withal 
 To answer the cry of the school bell's call. 
 
94 Before the Dawn 
 
 '* O come, little man and maidenly miss ; 
 
 What do we think of our little earth ? 
 Ah ! many a thing may be amiss ; 
 
 So come, let us go and carry it forth." 
 Thus rings the bell from the schoolhouse tower, 
 A gladsome voice for the morning hour ; 
 And so they come from lane and street, 
 A shuffle and scuffle of hurrying feet : 
 A little thought with a little deed 
 Is all this mighty world will need ; 
 And a fulsome flock will come withal 
 To answer the cry of the school bell's call. 
 
 ' ' O come, my man, you need not fear 
 Your growing age will hush my call ; 
 
 My cry rings out from year to year, 
 But mother am I still for all." 
 
 Thus rings the bell from the schoolhouse tower, 
 
 A welcome note for the morning hour. 
 
 The children soon grow up to men, 
 
 And see their sons begin again ; 
 
 But still the bell lifts up its song, 
 
 That man may grow and march along, 
 
 A fulsome flock to be, withal. 
 
 To answer the cry of our country's call. 
 
Waiting 95 
 
 Waiting 
 
 I WAIT for the dawn and the setting, 
 For a smile of the evening star ; 
 
 And my heart grows cold with waiting 
 For a love that comes from afar. 
 
 I wait on the silence of heaven 
 To tell where my love may be ; 
 
 But heaven is calmed by its stillness, 
 And echoes that stillness to me. 
 
 I wait for my soul to whisper 
 
 My love in her richness and bloom ; 
 
 But my soul is wrapped in its silence 
 And lisps but the calm of the tomb. 
 
 O soul, why alone must thou wander 
 With the pitiless silence of night, 
 
 And wait till the stars are darkened, 
 And the years are lost in their flight ? 
 
 My heart will wait for the dawning, 
 The setting and smile of a star ; 
 
 E'en though my longing grows aged, 
 And I stand at the judgment bar. 
 
96 Before the Dawn 
 
 What God has planted within me 
 Must bloom as the blush of the rose 
 
 What my heart in its longing whispers 
 The depth of that longing knows. 
 
Faith 97 
 
 Faith 
 
 A HAND once soothed my burning brow, 
 And calmed my ache and pain : 
 
 O tell me where that hand is now, 
 To comfort me again ! 
 
 A voice once answered from the deep 
 My cry of grief and woe ; 
 
 tell me where its echoes sleep, 
 That thither I may go ! 
 
 1 glance across the staring deep. 
 
 And hark, but hear in vain , 
 No whispers from that silence creep, 
 No hand to ease my pain. 
 
 And still I trust ; my heart does know, 
 Somewhere, somehow, again. 
 
 That voice and hand will both bestow 
 A balm for ill and pain. 
 
gS Before the Dawn 
 
 October 
 
 When apples hang on the orchard tree, 
 And leaves forsake their summer's green, 
 
 The wood thrush sings, ' ' To-whit to-whee, ' 
 For the tender glow of autumn's sheen. 
 
 The cricket drags her roundelay. 
 As John, the farmer, turns the turf ; 
 
 * * All sleep, ' ' sings he, * ' for many a day 
 
 Must pass before you visit earth." 
 
 When corn is stacked on the prairie land, 
 To shiver whenever the frost winds blow. 
 
 As sentries through the winter stand. 
 And watch the snowflakes come and go, 
 
 Then father comes with reddened face. 
 Much hardened by his lifelong wear : 
 
 * * All rest, ' ' sings he, " ' tis time and place 
 
 To work again the coming year. ' ' 
 
The Flight of Happiness 99 
 
 The Flight of Happiness 
 
 Why waits upon each joyous hour 
 
 The shrouded guise of sad regret ? 
 Too weak the moments to empower 
 
 Beyond their bounds of use or let. 
 Each happy moment chants a dirge, 
 
 A wild outcry as hearts implore, 
 As restless waters shift and surge ; 
 
 It murmurs sad, ' ' No more, no more ! ' ' 
 
 Oh, not from winter's wail it learns 
 
 To sigh the melancholy word. 
 Not to the frosty midnight turns 
 
 To hear what in our heart is heard. 
 Oh, 'tis that only in our dreams 
 
 We live the joys we graced afore ; 
 A moment with our pleasure beams, 
 
 Then wails the dirge, " No more, no more !" 
 
 The sighing eyes of youth behold 
 The flight of joys across his years ; 
 
 And ere his praise of life is told. 
 The niggard form of age appears ; 
 
lOO Before the Dawn 
 
 And joy, a rainbow arch, is spanned 
 
 From thoughtless birth to death's dim shore 
 
 Life's journey, then, is swifdy planned. 
 And echoes back, " No more, no more ! " 
 
A Knight of the New World loi 
 
 A Knight of the New World 
 
 With the flight of the morning sun is my ride o'er 
 
 green-topped hills through valleys, 
 And I greet the smiles of the cheerful dawn, when a 
 
 sleepy world it rallies ; 
 A knight of the modern world am I, and ride the 
 
 steed of today 
 As proudly gallant as knights of yore who kindled 
 
 the combat and fray. 
 
 The golden shades of the dawn I chase, as over the 
 
 hilltops they scramble, 
 And ride along on the dew-moist winds as on the 
 
 leaves they ramble : 
 With the carol of chanting birds I sing ; together 
 
 we waken the earth, 
 And sing out free on the tender air our cheers of 
 
 living and mirth. 
 
 The white-veiled clouds of dawn I hail, when mid- 
 night's haunt they are leaving. 
 
 And call for the tears the flowers have robbed and 
 to their booty cleaving. 
 
I02 Before the Dawn 
 
 We hasten along our speedy way, and never our 
 
 footsteps recounting, 
 So ever on like airy steeds the pathway of heaven 
 
 remounting. 
 
 ''All hail," to the reaper my welcome I sing; "All 
 
 hail," the welcome returning; 
 And merry the echo resounds on the winds, as he 
 
 halts, my journey discerning. 
 Past cottage and hamlet and waving field, with the 
 
 flight of the hour is my ride ; 
 I glance aloft to follow the clouds, and the shadow 
 
 of dawn by my side. 
 
 The barefooted lad cries merrily forth as he comes 
 from pasturing the flock, 
 
 And cheerfully sounds our greeting and hail as to- 
 gether the soft winds lock ; 
 
 With boyish glee he waves his cap, adds cheer to 
 the cheerful dawn — 
 
 And cricket and bird in hedge and tree bring their 
 small praise along. 
 
 Past farmyard, house, and village church, past store 
 and corner smithy. 
 
 Past lonely churchyard's weathered slabs, with sad- 
 ness stealing o'er me, 
 
A Knight of the New World 103 
 
 Through arching trees, o'er rustic bridge, where 
 
 sluggish streams are flowing, 
 Around the bend, by fallow fields, and now where 
 
 men are mowing, 
 
 The barren schoolhouse on the hill, the sodworn 
 
 plot to grace it, 
 The twisted fence rails round the site where lurks 
 
 the pupil's wit. 
 The empty flagstaff, golden tipped, the broken 
 
 blinds and window, — 
 We swifdy pass as have the flocks that hither come 
 
 and go. 
 
 And now the village clustered homes our watchful 
 eye is scanning. 
 
 The straggling house, the narrow walks, the church 
 spire heaven spanning ; 
 
 The dogs and children run afront, their happy 
 shouts they mingle. 
 
 Until we pass the streets and stores, when all to- 
 gether dwindle. 
 
 Along the road the farmer drags with heavy load 
 
 of clover, 
 And now we crouch hard by a fence to pass a 
 
 troubled drover ; 
 
I04 Before the Dawn 
 
 A dusty team beclouds our way, and, swifter spurred, 
 
 we pass it, 
 And hurry on to scale the hill, and then go coasting 
 
 down it. 
 
 Our journey onward do we speed until the end is 
 
 sighted. 
 When, hale and well, we rest our charge, with every 
 
 trouble slighted. 
 We feel as gay and blithe as boys the schoolhouse 
 
 yard regaining, 
 All merry, cheerful, sound, and trim, without a 
 
 sorrow paining. 
 
Halloween 105 
 
 Halloween 
 
 This is the night October dies, 
 
 When snow-trailed clouds do flit the skies, 
 
 And wintry blasts from poles are sent 
 
 To circle earth in merriment. 
 
 The air is charged with rigor and cold, 
 
 To harden men and make them bold ; 
 
 For October dies 
 
 With gray-stained skies. 
 And miserly Winter regains his hold. 
 
 This is the night the ghouls revive, 
 When ghosts and bodiless shadows connive 
 For mischief and sport, for terror and glee, 
 To revel and frolic, and prance merrily ; 
 Hobgoblins and witches are out on a lark, 
 As soon as the windows of daylight are dark. 
 
 When October dies. 
 
 The gray-stained skies 
 Are urging the snowflakes for earth to embark. 
 
 This is the night the old crones come. 
 
 With harpies and sprites from their musty home. 
 
 A yell and a cry, a whiz and a shriek, 
 
 A clattering bone, or a maniac's freak — 
 
io6 Before the Dawn 
 
 A noisy charge from this spirit band 
 Will stir the owls from their sleepy stand, 
 
 When October dies, 
 
 With gray-stained skies, 
 And crusty old Winter reconquers the land. 
 
 This is the night " Old Nick" returns, 
 From dusty tombs and unknown bourns. 
 To haunt young men and pale them with fright, 
 To summon up demons, entice them to fight, 
 And bolden shy maidens to search for their mate, 
 And read in the symbols their destined fate, — 
 
 When October dies, 
 
 And gray-stained skies 
 Makes brusky old Winter the master in state. 
 
 Rights of Man 
 
 We are not crafts upon life's sea. 
 That toss and struggle for the shore ; 
 
 The stalwart waves, O man, are we, 
 Whose dashing makes the ocean's roar. 
 
I Hear the Hymn of Twilight 107 
 
 I Hear the Hymn of Twilight 
 
 I HEAR the hymn of twilight, 
 
 As day is sinking to rest, 
 And I bow to the sweet emotion 
 
 That rises and fills my breast. 
 
 Upon the evening it is borne, 
 
 The hymn of a dying day ; 
 I listen, lost in the rapture 
 
 That carries my soul away. 
 
 I hear in the plaintive music 
 
 The song of an untold love, 
 The hymn of evening and twilight, 
 
 And songs of the stars above : 
 
 And a longing then seems to seize me, 
 
 And hopes that do not speak 
 Arise as the hymns of twilight 
 
 On the shades of the darkness creep ; 
 
 And only the stretches of silence 
 Repeat what I hope and long ; 
 
 But there is no balm for my yearning, 
 Not even a hymn or a song. 
 
io8 Before the Dawn 
 
 ' TIs ended ; my longing has vanished, 
 My hope for what never can be ; 
 
 But I only know why twilight 
 Makes such sweet music for me. 
 
 Isolation 
 
 Before me stretched the vacant night, 
 Without a star in heaven' s dome ; 
 
 Not e'en a single beacon glowed 
 
 To guide the wandering traveler home. 
 
 And then I turned to glance within, 
 What light my ardent soul might cast ; 
 
 But there the veil of night was drawn, 
 And I was as the night at last. 
 
The Sowers 109 
 
 The Sowers 
 
 There is a sower who is God ; 
 
 His seeds are strewn over earth ; 
 Wherever beast or man have trod, 
 
 They find the witness of their birth. 
 
 There is a sower who is Life : 
 
 His touch is found in every flower ; 
 
 Whatever springtide maketh rife 
 Has been obedient to his power. 
 
 There is a sower who is Death, 
 
 And all his plants have come to bloom ; 
 What is of man, whatever has breath, 
 
 Are garnered in his ageless tomb. 
 
 We all are sowers for ourselves ; 
 
 We plant our seeds in every deed : 
 Some bud may sprout to noble bloom, 
 
 Some spray may grow a pois'nous weed. 
 
no Before the Dawn 
 
 Man and the Universe 
 
 O OCEANS and oceans of vastness, 
 
 And my soul in that vastness to roam ! 
 
 And what am I, and my feeble sigh, 
 As I stand here gazing alone ? 
 
 O fields of silence and vastness, 
 
 And soul that gazes alone ; 
 Eternity's sweep, and the heaven's deep- 
 
 Both soul and the seer are one. 
 
 A Fragment 
 
 Once a song rose in my breast, 
 And its music pleased my ear ; 
 
 When I sought to hold it fast, 
 Forth it hastened as through fear. 
 
Songs 
 
All our songs are piercing sunbeams 
 Prying through the walls of thought. 
 
Songs 
 
 The Fisher 
 
 Tell me what the fisher says 
 
 When he leaves his home and wife, 
 When her face with tears is dewed, 
 
 As he parts for death or hfe. 
 When the sea is wildly pleading 
 
 For the traffic of his nets, 
 Must she wait with patient heart. 
 
 Finding comfort in her frets ? 
 
 Tell me what the fisher says 
 
 When he spreads his tanned sails, 
 When he waves his sad farewell 
 
 On the ocean's markless trails. 
 On the shore the weeping wife 
 
 Lifts her child as an adieu, 
 And the hazy space bedims, 
 
 Hides his dearest from his view. 
 
 "3 
 
114 Before the Dawn 
 
 Tell me what the fisher says 
 
 When upon the sea he tarries, 
 When his nets are dipped in brine 
 
 For the treasure ocean carries. 
 With his tears his bread is moistened, 
 
 By his honest, humble toil, 
 Trusting in a God above him, 
 
 Not his task by death to foil. 
 
 Tell me what the fisher says 
 
 When his craft is homeward bounding, 
 When the shore and home he hails, 
 
 Hears his wife her greetings sounding, 
 When he hears his children's voices, 
 
 On his shoulder rests his wife : 
 What a prayer the fisher utters ! 
 
 Tell me how he blesses life. 
 
Come, Little Birdie 115 
 
 Come, Little Birdie 
 
 Come, little birdie, 
 Sit by my window : 
 
 I have not heard thee ; 
 Tell me how things go. 
 
 Be not affrighted 
 By these gray walls ; 
 
 Cheer is not blighted 
 When welcome calls. 
 
 Tell me in thy speech 
 Thy cares and wishes, 
 
 Where thy hopes reach — 
 Their depth and riches. 
 
 Then learn of mine, 
 My world and life ; 
 
 Perhaps we may twine 
 One love and strife. 
 
 Ah ! thou art flown. 
 
 Where is the fear ? 
 'Twill never be known 
 
 We were so dear. 
 
1 1 6 Before the Dawn 
 
 Farewell Song at Summer Brook 
 
 When time draws nigh 
 
 To say good-bye, 
 No sigh or tear, 
 
 But joy and cheer. 
 We meet again ; 
 
 Though older than 
 The former time. 
 
 We' re in our prime. 
 No sadness check, 
 
 No sorrow wreck 
 Our mirth and cheer 
 
 Throughout the year. 
 All hail to you ! 
 
 Farewell to you ! 
 With welcome come, 
 
 With blessings, home ! 
 
Song of Spring 1 1 7 
 
 Song of Spring 
 
 Hearken, listen to my song : 
 
 From the sun-tipped boughs I sing ; 
 
 Welcome me and wish me long ; 
 Merry joys are on my wing. 
 
 Hearken, listen to my notes : 
 With the dawn I bring the day ; 
 
 On the wind my music floats. 
 Fluttering on my airy way. 
 
 Hearken, listen to my song : 
 Springtide follows on my trail ; 
 
 Earth with flowers and birds will throng, 
 Hushing winter's rasping wail. 
 
 Hearken, listen to my tune : 
 All the world is blithe and gay ; 
 
 Only for me comes too soon 
 
 Autumn with his clouds of gray. 
 
1 1 8 Before the Dawn 
 
 Song of Autumn 
 
 O HARK, O hear, ere autumn hushes 
 My merry song of quickening spring ; 
 
 The gray beclouded winter rushes, 
 
 And death lurks on her hastening wing. 
 
 O hark, O hear: my song's not saddened. 
 One cheerful note ere drop the leaves ; 
 
 Together we the hillsides gladdened 
 When summer lent us her low breeze. 
 
 O hark, O hear : I hail the sunlight, 
 That gilds the trees with mellow gold. 
 
 Caressing soft, ere autumn's slight 
 Must all my mates in death enfold. 
 
 O hark, O hear : I hush my sorrow ; 
 
 I only know my death is near : 
 O pray do not my sadness borrow. 
 
 So hearken to my farewell cheer. 
 
Song of Winter 119 
 
 Song of Winter 
 
 Heigh-ho, the wind and rain, 
 The icy blasts that sear the bone ! 
 
 Alas ! thy cold has lesser pain 
 
 Than love from lover's bosom flown. 
 
 Heigh-ho, the snow and frost, 
 
 The wintry winds that lowly moan ! 
 
 Alas ! the stings of cold are lost 
 Beside the man who weeps alone. 
 
 Song of ^^Sangersehen" 
 
 O WOULD you hearken to my word ? 
 
 The flowers I would not ask to bloom, 
 Or beg the music of a bird 
 
 To drive away the mist and gloom : 
 But my own speech would be the spell 
 
 To hold you with me night and day ; 
 In sunshine or when shadows fell, 
 
 No charm would keep you, love, away. 
 
I20 Before the Dawn 
 
 Good Night Song 
 
 Good night ! good night ! 
 
 Oh, one word more, and then good night ! 
 
 To silence let us twain confide ; 
 The last sweet rapture of the hour 
 
 Must yonder secretly abide — 
 Will rest in trust with every flower ; 
 
 And only when the breezes sigh 
 
 Will whispers say, "My dear, good-bye." 
 
 Good night ! good night ! 
 
 My love can only sigh, " Good night ! " 
 
 O dear, this wish will beckon dreams 
 From heaven's realm to guard your sleep: 
 
 Along the pathway of yon beams, 
 Unto your pillow will they creep, 
 
 And lull you while their soothing spell 
 
 Hum soft and low our sweet farewell. 
 
Coach Song 1 2 1 
 
 Coach Song 
 
 Heigh-ho, tallyho! 
 Sound clearly forth the merry strain, 
 Until the plains repeat again 
 
 The first fresh sound. 
 Blow loudly forth the cheerful notes. 
 For on the breeze the welcome floats 
 
 To all around. 
 Up Dick, up Nipper, up Blossom, and Pete ! 
 Up Garrish, up Dipper, up Ringer, and Fleet ! 
 Across the grain-stacked plains we drive — 
 The world is sweet when pleasures thrive, — 
 Across the rolling prairies prance : 
 The corn and wheat together dance 
 To the music of our horn. 
 
 Free cheer, far and near. 
 
 When merrily we appear ! 
 
 Heigh-ho, tallyho! 
 Blow lustily the trumpet's call 
 Before the hastening echoes fall 
 
 On yonder plain. 
 Sound loud, blow strong the happy tune 
 Unless the greedy winds too soon 
 
 Consume the strain. 
 
122 Before the Dawn 
 
 Up Dick, up Nipper, up Blossom, and Pete ! 
 Up Garrish, up Dipper, up Ringer, and Fleet 1 
 Beneath the cover of night we ride ; 
 The moonbeams follow by our side ; 
 And to the blithesome winds we sing 
 The joys of life, the cheer we bring 
 To greet the dawn. 
 
 Free cheer, far and near, 
 When merrily we appear ! 
 
Where One Is, There Two Will Be 123 
 
 Where One Is, There Two Will Be 
 
 Where one is, there two will be : 
 Come and join us ; make it three ! 
 Pleasures never flourish single ; 
 All her mates together mingle : 
 Would you of all cares be free, 
 Join our merry company. 
 
 Where one is, there two will be : 
 Call him, fellow ; make it three ! 
 FroUc knows no caste or border. 
 Frowns depressed on law and order ; 
 When a man from toil is free, 
 Friendship is his charity. 
 
 Where one is, there two will be : 
 Stir about for brother three ! 
 When the cup is sipped alone. 
 Chills and ague fill the bone ; 
 When our cares their burdens flee. 
 Then we wait on company. 
 
124 Before the Dawn 
 
 Where one is, there two will be ; 
 Hail, salute to number three ! 
 Surly moods can only grow 
 Where no merry spirits flow ; 
 We are ripe for joy and glee — 
 Well met, fellow ! join us three ! 
 
The Old Mill 125 
 
 The Old Mill 
 
 Down by the river bank 
 
 Stands an old mill ; 
 And it goes round and round, 
 
 As the winds will, ' 
 Swinging its mighty arms. 
 As sailors telling yarns, 
 With growling sound — 
 Low, croaking sound. 
 
 Out stretch the mighty arms, 
 When the winds blow, 
 
 As saints imploring 
 Heaven to know. 
 
 Are they adoring. 
 
 Begging, deploring, 
 
 When they go round 
 
 With croaking sound ? 
 
 Down to the mill 
 Comes the mill's lad. 
 
 Loaded with wheat and corn. 
 White as his dad. 
 
126 Before the Dawn 
 
 He pours in the grain, 
 Sees it come out again, 
 As it goes round 
 With croaking sound. 
 
 O go to the mill 
 
 While it goes round ; 
 It can grind you 
 
 With the same sound — 
 Grind you as fine as corn, 
 Scanty as sheep are shorn, 
 With the same sound — 
 Low, croaking sound. 
 
The Night Wind 127 
 
 The Night Wind 
 
 I HEARD the night wind's lowly sigh, 
 And o' er its soughing came the cry : 
 ' * Without thee, O my love will die. 
 And leave me lone." 
 
 And to the night wind's mystic moan 
 I whispered softly, ' ' I am lone : 
 O love, in spirit hast thou gone 
 To some far zone ? ' ' 
 
 Then answered low the wind to me, 
 * ' Thyself must as thy own love be, 
 To win throughout eternity 
 Thy loved one. 
 
128 Before the Dawn 
 
 Love Song 
 
 Tell me why my heart is throbbing 
 When thy name is on my Hps, 
 
 Why my eyes their gaze is robbing, 
 And my thought in fancy dips. 
 
 Tell me why thy name may conjure 
 
 Visions as a mystic spell, 
 And its echoes feelings measure 
 
 More than all my life befell. 
 
 Tell me why its accents tarry. 
 Make sweet music to my ear, 
 
 Why all sounds and whispers carry 
 But thy name for me to hear. 
 
Sonnets 
 
Where songs and ditties slight our grace, 
 The courtly sonnet steps in place. 
 
Sonnets 
 
 Sonnets of Despair 
 
 Hath sorrow such a craven voice to cry 
 Against the battered suffering of our clay, 
 To summon from the depth of swart decay 
 
 The broods that prouder manhood vihfy, 
 
 When sweet contentment must with grief comply, 
 And, raging, wake what peacefully reposed — 
 The former sovereign of our bliss deposed. 
 
 Whose reigning would the ranks of woe defy ? 
 
 Since sorrow claims such magic for her voice. 
 And, greedy tyrant, banishes from state 
 The meeker subjects of her tristful reign. 
 
 My soul must, alien, wander for a choice 
 Of virtues that with suffering flesh will mate. 
 And lodgment find where wallows filthy pain. 
 
 131 
 
132 Before the Dawn 
 
 II 
 
 Since day or night, the constant guest of years, 
 Will entertain no visitor of peace, 
 Erasing from their bond and lifelong lease 
 
 The signature that checks the flow of tears ; 
 
 With sorrow reveling, when joy appears, 
 And sapping youth, ere wistful mirth rebels, 
 That youth' s thin stream in undue gushing quells 
 
 From springs of time, lest age fall in arrears, — 
 
 When thus the nimble game of life is played, 
 And I must veil my youth and grief. 
 With solitude consorted and alone — 
 
 O fearful fate, that has this life assayed ! 
 'Twere better that I wooed the end's relief. 
 In death possessing what is not life's own. 
 
 Ill 
 
 When time, nor age, nor stone, nor senseless brass 
 
 Will hold in trust the record of my woe ; 
 
 When active decades build their towers, then go 
 To rear a structure furtherward ; alas ! 
 When such our life has thoughtless brought to pass 
 
 That we succumb, by what we least attain ; 
 
 What human art will mark our feverish pain, 
 And single out what forlorn sinks in mass ? 
 
Sonnets of Despair 133 
 
 Shall then my lips emit a seared lament, 
 And wail against the life assigned I hold ? 
 
 What rage of men will fate with patience bear, 
 Or, lending ear, to no new plan consent ? 
 Oh, grew man from such meditation bold, 
 And never fell a victim to his fear ! 
 
 IV 
 
 O man is of such elements composed, 
 
 As forms his fears, his sorrows, and lament, 
 As embassies from distant regions sent, 
 
 Where he for this odd journey is proposed. 
 
 Then, were we of these agencies disposed. 
 And even freed from sorrow's wasteful reign, 
 Sufficed to live by what life failed to gain, 
 
 The search would soon begin for that disposed. 
 
 So leaps our life between the banks of want, 
 Nor restful ever with her present store or show. 
 We are but those same elements we mourn. 
 
 And crave the way wherewith that way to flaunt : 
 What stretches past the self we never know. 
 For darkness is the night, and light the morn. 
 
134 Before the Dawn 
 
 V 
 
 If thus with such inconstancy we range 
 Our Hfe, that sadness treads upon the heel 
 Of joy, and terrors with Hke motions reel 
 As whirl our merriments, — if so we change 
 The scenes of life that sorrows rearrange 
 
 The flowery spray of joy, with garlands crowning 
 What grief dispels in thick and clouded frowning, 
 'Tis then, indeed, life's spectacle grows strange. 
 That we are healed by what we most despise. 
 So acts the little drama of our life ; 
 
 Our soul's the stage, our whims the characters ; 
 They follow each ere e' en the curtains rise ; 
 And who bewildered, that no greater strife 
 With life, the hero role, then interferes ? 
 
 VI 
 
 Some day, alas ! my steps will slip from earth, 
 
 And silence gather on my time-worn cot ; 
 
 In soil unpitying, my unexchanging lot, 
 Compounded with the clay of primal birth. 
 Oh, there to hear no more the taunting mirth, 
 
 The scorn and sneer that drives my joy away ; 
 
 No mimicries that mask sincerer play — 
 A few stray sands repaid to ancient turf, 
 
Sonnets of Despair 135 
 
 And one more spirit, tortured in the rack, 
 Returned to wither in the blastless sphere ; 
 One heart, too ardent to bestow the Hght, 
 As prey pursued and chased, on scent and track, 
 Until both famished panting, he drew near 
 The shady realm and merged in endless night. 
 
 VII 
 
 Ofttimes, when I reflect on my estate, 
 
 My life- engendered hopes, the saving trust 
 That all my yearnings may not end in dust, 
 The confidence that trickery of fate 
 No wish will pass from out its postern gate 
 Unburdened with the trophy of its toil. 
 Ungrateful to its native rearing soil. 
 My gloated longings weaken in the state 
 Of hoping, such admixtures of the self 
 Do reign that we make blankly obsolete 
 Our sense of brotherhood, and freely feed 
 Our vanity and self-conceit on pelf 
 
 For visions of our greatness. 'Tis meet 
 
 To hope, when man to higher hopes will lead. 
 
136 Before the Dawn 
 
 VIII 
 
 When I unfold the sacred scroll of years, 
 And read the script, unblessed by aught 
 Save those few hours that stoutly fought 
 To gain in greedy clutch the next, my fears 
 Combat with hostile mien those gracious tears 
 That would contentment spread on my distress. 
 Great God ! that youthful hope must thus confess, 
 Ere youth matures or weakening age appears : 
 And all those dreams, the pride and vaunt of heart, 
 The secret joys of conquest, and the gain 
 Of private effort, growing great by use. 
 Must now, the uninvited guests, depart ; 
 And life itself, a phantom, all in vain. 
 Go dwell in air, or into space diffuse ! 
 
Resignation 137 
 
 Resignation 
 
 Thou art a spirit borne from shades of night, 
 Thou voice of death, and warder of the soul ! 
 My life transfers its reigns to thy control, 
 
 In meek submission to thy towering might : 
 
 A wistful child scans not the lofty height 
 
 Of young ambition's peak, nor does dream's dome 
 Exclude the dreamy hopes that starward come 
 
 To jut on earth a ray of silver light. 
 
 With man comes revelation of his plot ; 
 And sadly hope casts off its vast expanse 
 In every little life : beyond we reach, 
 
 To find our efforts lessen ; we allot 
 
 Our eyes a treasured, full, and longing glance. 
 And for that gaze a comforter beseech. 
 
138 Before the Dawn 
 
 Doctor E. G. Hirsch's Forty- 
 seventh Birthday 
 
 As ages rear the structure of our earth, 
 
 Each age succeeding in its strength the last, 
 Until the globe is welded, rounded fast. 
 And rendered tenantable, fit, and worth 
 Both man and beast, so are the years that girth 
 Thy life ; a fuller store each age acquires ; 
 But wisdom, manhood, soul-expanse, aspires 
 To gender newer qualities and birth 
 For unexhausted youth. And we who dwell 
 In wrapt adornment of the soul, whose voice 
 Enkindles reverence for God and man, 
 We bring our greetings in this joyous spell. 
 That time may spare and leave a choice 
 For riper days to arch the fuller span. 
 
On Reading a Book of Sonnets 139 
 
 On Reading a Book of Sonnets 
 
 When, from the chastened pen of a young sonneteer, 
 I read a tuneful, soft Sicilian strain, 
 Harmonious as citron winds that gain 
 
 Their music from the shaded groves, or wear 
 
 The echoes of elm or beech or pear 
 
 When their young leaves sigh low a tale of love, 
 I thought the world as cheerful as above 
 
 The sun, and felt my footsteps swiftly near 
 
 The fragrant woodland haunts of old Theocritus, 
 Dismissed from all the cares and wearing weight 
 Of life, exempt from drossy strife for gold, 
 
 Transported to a realm of spring, and thus 
 
 Await the unknown end, not mindful of the fate 
 Of what the state may bring or men withhold. 
 
I40 Before the Dawn 
 
 Before New Year 
 
 When, musing, into unformed years I peer, 
 And read on some assumed page of time 
 The certain hour of death, and from what clime 
 I must embark, there is no sickly fear, 
 Nor ghastly vision, that, unsought, I rear 
 For venturing fancifully to the verge 
 Of that abyss, where shadows freely merge 
 From life and death. But braver does appear 
 The task to view the common planes of life, 
 And see, along the even stretch of time, 
 
 Both ambling youth and manhood, joy and pain, 
 And find each period doubly latent, strife 
 
 With peace — each mingling easy as a rhyme. 
 To beauty growing as the end we gain. 
 
Authorship 141 
 
 Authorship 
 
 When, struggling with the gloated pangs of woe, 
 My heart fain yearns for balms of sweet relief, 
 And bitter sorrow, fanning flames of grief 
 
 In spite, enrages my contentment's foe. 
 
 Disdainful melancholy, in the throe 
 
 Of deepest anguish, pain, and dire despair, 
 In languishment of life, I woo the fair 
 
 And tender muse of poesy. I know 
 
 The ills that rankle in my breast, the strains 
 That sigh to weave their pining with the air. 
 Were voice entrusted to those pains to speak ; 
 
 And as a child its mother's kiss regains, 
 Finds happiness amid its aimless care. 
 Expression wins for me the joy I seek. 
 
142 Before the Dawn 
 
 When Fancy Decays 
 
 How soon our fancies totter to decay, 
 And overspread the dust of dotage 
 On visions of a more ambitious age ! 
 When youthful aspiration creeps away 
 And whispers to the eve the hopes of day, 
 When childhood shadows forth a greater man 
 Than manhood in his present image can, 
 Maturity, confounded by delay, 
 Suspects the ministering guards of death 
 Approach, ere dreams of life are spun. 
 Such agencies has time devised to mock 
 Our mortal sovereignty, and seals our breath, 
 Ere in appointed tracks our sands have run ; 
 Then draws us in death's unaccounted flock. 
 
Obedience 143 
 
 Obedience 
 
 Dedicated to Miss Prestonia Mann, 
 
 Ah ! once a wild and unbound spirit stirred 
 Tempestuous storms within, at meek control, 
 When kings, enstated in a tyrant's role, 
 
 Oppression on a helpless horde conferred, 
 
 And men, too pained to speak, in vain demurred 
 Against the rights embosomed in their hearts, 
 Made common traffic in the bartering marts 
 
 Of empires. Now a calmer cause is heard ; 
 
 And my betroubled spirit learns anew 
 The higher law of sweet obedience, 
 
 Of rulership controlled by human love ; 
 
 And man, not slave, where iron in bondage drew, 
 But led by holier acts of reverence, 
 
 Obedient to thy will, which love doth move. 
 
144 Before the Dawn 
 
 Winter 
 
 I KNOW not why such silence should ensue 
 When winter spreads his mantle o' er the land, 
 Or why the cheery, gleeful, chanting band 
 
 Their happy minstrel strains withdrew, 
 
 Or why the heart such sadness should imbue. 
 Yet brusky winter's kind, and in his wail 
 A tone of comfort and content does trail — 
 
 To cherish home and kinsman's love renew. 
 
 Thus inwardly the clime confines our gaze 
 With searching eye, and thaws our icy soul ; 
 With warmer love we draw each to our heart. 
 
 In contemplation of our home, the days 
 
 Do glide ; our best we bring to sweet control, 
 And learn how vastly each in each is part. 
 
Life's Vintage 145 
 
 Life's Vintage 
 
 We gathered once the autumn leaves, 
 And golden wreaths together strung, 
 
 Regardless of the fleeing hours, 
 For we were young ; 
 
 But now we gather leaves of life, 
 And very few our garlands hold — 
 
 The golden autumn days have fled. 
 And we are old. 
 
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