LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chaj)..!.... Copyright No 
 
 Shelf.. _S/_6 5 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
MRS. MARCIA M. SISCO 
 
Gems of inspiration 
 
 BV ^ 
 
 MRS. MARCIA M. SISCO 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1898 BY 
 
 MRS. MARCIA M. SISCO 
 
 112 Third Avenue 
 Clinton, Iowa 
 
»b J. 
 
 
 40906 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 
PART FIRST. 
 
 A SCRAP BOOK FOR THF MANY 
 
PREFACE TO SCRAP-BOOK. 
 
 In the poems contained in this scrap-book I 
 have endeavored to portray the conditions of the 
 present age, which have been thrust upon us 
 through the social, poHtical, financial and reli- 
 gious bondage which we, through ignorance, have 
 been forced to accept. 
 
 But as the earth now stands upon the threshold 
 of a new era, I hope the time is not far distant 
 when we shall all realize where we stand, and 
 see the cause and learn to seek and apply the rem- 
 edy, which is freedom and co-operation. 
 
 It is indeed a pitiful sight to look over our civ- 
 ilized and so-called Christian land and there be- 
 hold the penitentiaries, insane asylums, alms- 
 houses, jails, houses of correction, reform schools, 
 etc., etc., to say nothing of our fallen women and 
 animal men, tramps, idlers, etc., but try as we 
 may we cannot blind our eyes to the sight if. we 
 have any heart or soul left, and we are all seek- 
 ing for a clue of thread to guide us out of those 
 Cretan labyrinths and place us on our feet. But 
 we are looking in the wrong direction, for we 
 are looking to the money-god instead of the man- 
 god as our Savior, for our religion is of the earth 
 
6 Preface. 
 
 earthy and binds us through ignorance to cere- 
 monies and customs. 
 
 If earth's children are ever saved it must be 
 through woman's emancipation, but woman will 
 never be free until she is delivered from financial 
 dependence and the yoke of custom. This I have 
 tried to show in the poems, "What is Man?" 
 "What is Woman?" and "An Appeal to Liberty." 
 
 Above all, women and men must be free spirit- 
 ually, for the great architect of a human soul is 
 spiritual truth, and she cannot work with mate- 
 rial gloves on. And this is where we all have 
 failed ; we have been building from a material 
 standpoint instead of spiritual, as our divorce 
 courts very clearly prove, and some of the poems 
 in this little volume show the present dilapidation 
 of tiie social fabric and also the order that must 
 come out of all this chaos. It is my belief that 
 this change is governed by planetary laws, and 
 must be brought about through the plan of the 
 ages ; so we must hope and work with as much 
 patience as we can command for the new age to 
 be born which is to make us all free, man as well 
 
 as woman. 
 
 Marcia M. Sisco. 
 
THE TIME WILL COME 
 
 I make no moan above my faded flowers, 
 I will not vainly strive against my lot, 
 
 Patient I'll wear away the slow, sad hours 
 As if their sombre ray were quite forgot. 
 
 While stronger fingers snatch away the sword 
 And lighter footsteps pass me on their ways, 
 
 I'll bow submissive to the stern award 
 That says I must go humbly all my days. 
 
 I know some heart is beating quickly yet, 
 I know the dream is sweet and subtle still, 
 
 And struggling from the clouds of past regret, 
 I yield the conflict to my fate's stern will. 
 
 And when the surging waves of human scorn 
 Shall break my hold on all the heart holds dear, 
 
 I'll find that throbbing pulse in some bright form 
 Filled with the love that casteth out all fear. 
 
 I do not mourn, for on this bright spring morn 
 I know that leaf in my life's book is turned. 
 
 The golden memories from my heart are torn, 
 I know this gall will into sweet be turned. 
 
 The blotted pages in my book of life 
 
 Shall be torn out and scattered to the wind. 
 
 And with new hopes my future shall be rife. 
 Oh ! may a lofty purpose fill my mind ! 
 
 I know that I must bear the scoflFs of creeds, 
 But if need be I'll die for truth's sweet sake ; 
 
 Yes, I'd give all to show the world its needs. 
 To show the world the fetters it must break. 
 
8 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 For lo, the time will truly come, when all 
 The filth of ages must be gathered up 
 
 And burned by fire of truth in one broad hell, 
 That joy may fill life's universal cup. 
 
 OCTOBER 
 
 Oh, this soft October sunlight, 
 
 How it dallies with the ferns, 
 Turns to day the soul's dark midnight, 
 
 When for some unknown it yearns. 
 
 Ah, indeed, the hearts are many, 
 
 Craving pure and holy love, 
 Like this soft October draping, 
 
 Tinging lake and field and grove. 
 
 But away from love's fair glory. 
 
 We pierce the shimmering mellowed light, 
 
 Until we stand in heaven's own gateway, 
 Bathed in October's colors bright. 
 
 Sweet emblems of the coming ages 
 
 Are the many colored leaves. 
 When His hand shall turn the pages 
 
 Which disclose life's autumn sheaves. 
 
 Are they filled almost to bursting, 
 
 Like October's sheaves of earth, 
 With fruits of gladness everlasting. 
 
 Or are those soul sheaves filled with dearth ? 
 
 Are we like October's sunset. 
 
 Tinged with heavenly glories bright? 
 
 Or are we like earth's cold December, 
 
 Shut out from love's own warmth and light ? 
 
GcJils of Inspiration. 
 
 Aye, do we live in hopes and fancies, 
 That each year will fill our sheaves 
 
 With bright glories fit for mansions, 
 Standing near Icarian seas? 
 
 SINCE WE PARTED 
 
 A thousand hours have come and gone, 
 And left their mark on our weary brain ; 
 
 A thousand miles have drifted between 
 
 Your home in the city and mine on the plain. 
 
 A thousand fancies have knitted a chain 
 
 Of orient hues and somber shade, 
 Which oft lies low on the cold, dark plain, 
 
 And as oft reaches up to the sunniest glade. 
 
 A thousand tides have ebbed and flowed 
 On the stormy shores of life's surging seas. 
 
 And a thousand ships have gone down with the 
 flood, 
 With never so much as a rollicking breeze. 
 
 A thousand banners have been flung to the winds. 
 Some laden with hope and some with despair, 
 
 And a thousand fetters have been unforged, 
 To free weary souls from canker and care. 
 
 A thousand tyrants have been at work 
 
 In monopoly's furnace, welding our chains. 
 
 While the angel hosts have been keeping their 
 books. 
 Recording therein all our losses and gains. 
 
 A thousand friends we thought to be true. 
 Have floated off with the outgoing tide. 
 
 And a thousand more have arisen to view 
 The golden truths on the other side. 
 
10 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 A thousand tendrils are weaving a web 
 Of joy and sorrow and pleasure and pain, 
 
 And a thousand souls are daily led 
 By the Master's hand to eternal gain. 
 
 THE LAST TRUMP 
 
 Hark, we hear the trumpet sounding, 
 Light is breaking in the east — 
 The night is passing, 
 The morn is flashing, 
 And earth's blackest night is past. 
 
 Hark, the jubilee is booming, 
 The clouds of error have fled away — 
 Light is streaming. 
 The earth is teeming. 
 With great truths of earth's coming day. 
 
 Hark, we hear the thunder's rumbling, 
 Back in the dark discordant past — 
 
 Kings are weeping. 
 
 Mammon is sleeping. 
 Beneath the trumpet's welcome blast. 
 
 And lo, the coming of time's warriors ! 
 
 Marshaled into merry lines — 
 Their step is heeded, 
 Their presence is needed, 
 
 To light the torch of modern times. 
 
 Hark, we hear the bright waves dashing 
 On Lethe's shores of sin and hate — 
 
 Swords are rusting. 
 
 Creeds are musting. 
 And old hydra sees his fate. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 1 1 
 
 Hark, the new-born age is singing, 
 As the angels sing with power — 
 
 Stars are gleaming, 
 
 Banners are streaming, 
 From the courts of wisdom's bower. 
 
 Hark, we hear Apollo tuning 
 His golden lyre as in ages gone — 
 
 Bacchus is dancing, 
 
 Pegasus prancing, 
 But the morning stars still sing their song. 
 
 Hark, we hear the angels calling 
 To every nation in all lands — 
 
 Orion is kneeling, 
 
 Chiron is healing. 
 Just by laying on his hands. 
 
 Lo, the gates of heaven are opening, 
 To let earth's ignorant children in — 
 
 Angels are hoping. 
 
 Sinners are voting, 
 For a life that is freed from sin. 
 
 TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW 
 
 Oh, these terrible black clouds that lie across my 
 way! 
 
 When will they break asunder and show me the 
 light of day? 
 
 And, oh, this leaden weight that is crushing me 
 with its might ! 
 
 Shall I ever be able to stay the fiend in this un- 
 equal fight? 
 
1 2 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 To-day I held the mastery o'er Satan and his 
 
 throng, 
 To-night I yield the conflict although he's here 
 
 alone, 
 To-morrow's fight will spill the blood of virtues 
 
 great and grand, 
 Then I hope to slay the vices by the help of the 
 
 angel band. 
 
 Ah, such is life, to-day we sail on clouds of fleecy 
 
 To-night in bitter agony the very dust we bite ; 
 To-morrow we go to battle and slay the good and 
 
 just, 
 While the wicked are left to revel in their unholy 
 
 lust. 
 
 This morn I plucked a lovely rose and twined it 
 in my hair, 
 
 At noon it began to droop and die, tho' it was 
 passing fair ; 
 
 To-night it lies at my very feet, a faded and life- 
 less thing, 
 
 But I know its fragrance has gone above to wliere 
 the angels sing. 
 
 THE WIDOW'S FIFTY-SIXTH BIRTHDAY 
 
 Long years have passed since I first saw the light, 
 And I can scarcely tell where they have flown ; 
 
 My sun seems setting in rainbow tints so bright. 
 It seems the grave with flowers nnist l)e strewn. 
 
 No roseate morn shone on my early life. 
 
 For I was born a sickly little elf. 
 And worst of all, I was unwelcome here, 
 
 For even God did not consult himself. 
 
Gems of Ifispiralioii. 13 
 
 To know if I would like to live or no, 
 
 But in my childhood hours I found some joys 
 
 As fleeting as the balmy morning dews, 
 
 While here and there I gathered up my toys. 
 
 In early youth I lived my life alone, 
 
 A wanderer here and there in nature's halls, 
 
 Seeking companionship in tree and stone. 
 Or in the waves that beat against their v^^alls. 
 
 How like myself those restless waves appeared, 
 As ever and anon they beat their breast. 
 
 And tried to leap above their fountain head, 
 Then settled back in an unquiet rest. 
 
 At noon a darkling cloud obscur'd my way, 
 My hungering spirit tried to pierce the mist. 
 
 It beat against its earthly prison walls, 
 
 But angels waved it back and would not list. 
 
 Oh, how I prayed that God would rend the cloud 
 That I might thro' the cleft behold one ray 
 
 Of spirit light, but as I humbly bowed 
 The cloud grew thicker and blocked up my way. 
 
 Lo, then I prostrate fell, weary and faint I cried 
 To heaven for light, for hbpe's lone star had set, 
 
 Which, until t.hen, had been my soul's true guide. 
 And whose fair glory I could not forget. 
 
 To keep want from my door I struggled hard, 
 And harder still to keep my frenzy down. 
 
 E'en midnight labors brought me no reward ; 
 I bore my cross and wore my thorny crown. 
 
 In vain I bore my cross up Calvary's hill, 
 And wore the thorny crown upon my way, 
 
 For faith was dead, and joy had flown at will, 
 And I was left alone to grope and pray. 
 
14 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 I pray'd for strength in vain, I pray'd for light. 
 But selfishness withheld them ])Oth from me ; 
 
 Behind the cloud those golden words shone hright 
 From God's own throne, "iVaise waiteth here 
 for thee." 
 
 Alone 1 pray'd, while angels stood and sniil'd, 
 
 Not at my agony or thorny way, 
 But at the birth of one poor sorrowing child, 
 
 Who pleads with them for just one little ray. 
 
 At last I heard a voice from out the depths 
 
 Saying, "Arise, my child, cast off thy shoes. 
 If thou wouldst wisdom choose make now the}' 
 choice, 
 But with much wisdom you must sorrow 
 choose." 
 
 I wavered then — could I more sorrow brook ? 
 
 Weary and worn I stood before the cloud — 
 I had no faith to trust the hand I took — 
 
 I stood erect ; unto no creed I bow'd. 
 
 In darkness then, I stood before the throne. 
 Wisdom and grief, twin sisters, stood afar ; 
 
 Pleasure and folly beckon'd me to come, 
 
 And said my pleasures ne'er a grief should mar. 
 
 I courted wisdom, but dark grief repell'd 
 
 For misery had ever been my fate. 
 Against all tutor'd knowledge I rebell'd. 
 
 But wisdom is science born of truths innate. 
 
 Aluch as 1 wished for wisdom from above, 
 I had no strength to brook her sister, grief ; 
 
 I begged for faith and hope and charity, 
 
 For these, \vith wisdom, sure would l)ring relief. 
 
Gems of Iiispirafioji. 15 
 
 I bowed me then before the sovereign throne 
 And begged the eternal powers to choose for 
 me ; 
 
 While thus I bowed my soul poured forth a moan 
 Which rent the cloud and left my spirit free. 
 
 Lo, then I faintly touch'd the golden harp 
 Which prophets and poets and bards have tuned 
 for all 
 
 Who have the power to reconcile the heart 
 To all the ills that human life befall. 
 
 Tears brought relief, but pleasure mocked at me, 
 While wisdom took my hand and raised me up 
 
 And pointed out my future destiny, 
 Yet holding to my lips the bitter cup. 
 
 I drank it up and tho' it bitter seem'd, 
 It proved a healthy balm and strengthen'd me, 
 
 The light of life's elixir in it gleamed. 
 Pointing the way to a higher destiny. 
 
 'Twas then my guardian did new power lend. 
 While wisdom taught me out of nature's book, 
 
 Yet said to classic lore I should not bend 
 But o'er the cycles of the ages look. 
 
 And as I looked the darkness fled away. 
 
 The glory of the morn shone bright and fair, 
 
 Ignorance and bigotry had had their day, 
 
 And wisdom's wand was set with diamonds 
 rare. 
 
 Which, as she dips in time's swift rolling years, 
 Robs death of its malignant hated sting, 
 
 Will banish victory from the welcome grave. 
 And peace and joy to all on earth will bring. 
 
i6 Gems of luspirafio)!. 
 
 So, as the years have passed, they've paved my 
 way 
 
 With a prophetic Hght that is born of truth ; 
 And age shall find its youth again for aye, 
 
 Clothed in the garments of perpetual youth. 
 
 And now I own 'tis pleasant to be here, 
 
 Tho' my spirit longs to reach its home above, 
 
 To meet my kindred and my loved ones there, 
 And bask with them in heaven's flowery grove. 
 
 ETERNITY, ROLL ON 
 
 Roll on, roll on, ye mystic years, roll on, 
 L^nfold the secrets which are hidden yet 
 
 In the eternal laws of God's great plan. 
 Where time his signs has set. 
 
 Peal on, peal on, ye truths of nature's might, 
 Send back your echoes to the squalid past. 
 
 And then look forward to the radiant light 
 Where all iiiust stand at last. 
 
 Dash on, dash on, ye shining orbs, dash on, 
 Perform your cycles with unerring zeal. 
 
 O'er the unmembered ages yet unknown. 
 For life's eternal weal. 
 
 Smile on, ye suns of awful might, smile on. 
 And dip your beams in streams of living rays, 
 
 Flooding the uncreated time to come 
 With your mysterious ways. 
 
 Flow out, flow out, ye streams of bloody gore. 
 And satisfy the gods that warp our fates. 
 
 Ye miscompute the lives that evermore 
 Waste even to heaven's gates. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. ly 
 
 Wave high, ye gods, your banners of golden lore, 
 And sweep away all creedal priests and bonds. 
 
 Set firm your flagstafif on the eternal shore 
 Of heaven's unmeasured grounds. 
 
 Drink deep, ye souls of endless life, drink deep. 
 From nature's pure and never-failing fount, 
 
 The redeeming glory of your power to keep, 
 While you ascend the mount. 
 
 Stand high, stand high, on Zion's holy mount. 
 And sound thy trump of joy to worlds afar. 
 
 Give them to drink from life's pure living fount. 
 That they thy wisdom share. 
 
 A WAIL FROM THE UNFORTUNATE 
 
 The clouds are gathering thick above my head, 
 All damp and cold the night is closing in. 
 
 And yet I find no place to lay my head, 
 For lo, my mortal life is stained with sin. 
 
 And tho' the Christ has risen, he comes not 
 To say to me as did the Christ of old : 
 
 "Neither do I condemn thee; sin no more," 
 Nor lead me with his flock up to his fold. 
 
 What shall I do, add blackened crime to sin. 
 And stain my hand with blood of innocence, 
 
 Or shall I seek the river and plunge in. 
 Or seek the poison cup in God's defiance? 
 
 Shall I make clean the outside of the platter. 
 And thereby shun the taunts of human hate. 
 
 Or shall I listen to hate's gibberish chatter, 
 
 And leave the last great judgment to my fate? 
 
i8 Gcuis of Inspiratuvi. 
 
 I will be strong in purpose and in will. 
 
 And bare my breast to catch the flaming sword 
 
 Aimed at my soul with the intent to kill, 
 
 And ope my ears to hear hate's taunting words. 
 
 But where shall I go, where shall I lay my head, 
 Sleep on the cold, cold ground this bitter night, 
 
 With nothing for my pillow but a stone : 
 Oh, can I live to see the morning light ? 
 
 But God, who tempers winds to the shorn lamb, 
 Will care for me, if not then let me die 
 
 Here on the street all freezing and alone. 
 With none to shed a tear or heave a sigh. 
 
 Well, Christians ahvays told me "God is love," 
 And so I know he will draw near to me, 
 
 And mercy wall unlock her bolted doors 
 To let the pinioned sinbound soul go free. 
 
 If God should say, "Depart, I know you not," 
 He cannot justly take my child from me ; 
 
 I know he'll let me bear it on my breast 
 Thro the long ages of eternity. 
 
 Curse him, no, never, he is not to blame, 
 
 'Tw^as woman's love, stronger than death itself, 
 
 That prompted me to do this deed of shame. 
 And as God lives, I'll bear the blame myself. 
 
 Love my child? go ask the drooping flower 
 If it loves the evening dews it cannot see ; 
 
 Go ask the bird in yonder shady bowser 
 If it loves the tiny nestlings yet to be. 
 
 Go ask the sunbeam in the valley green 
 
 If it loves the little flower it stoops to kiss; 
 
 Go ask the breeze that skims the water's shore 
 If it loves the water lilv it doth caress. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 19 
 
 Go ask the matron in her palace home 
 If mother nature is more true to her, 
 
 And gives her mother's heart a deeper love 
 Than God imparts to the Icne wanderer. 
 
 Go ask the bride before the altar there, 
 Clothed in her satin robe of richest folds. 
 
 And bridal veil with orange wreath so fair, 
 If she loves him who by the hand she holds. 
 
 Am 1 cast in a meaner, humbler mould? 
 
 Too low to love, and yet too high to hate 
 Aught save the price of virtue bought and sold — 
 
 Too low to love aught save a perfect mate ? 
 
 Well now, most righteous judge, come take my 
 hand, 
 
 And lead me up before thy gilded throne, 
 Fm anxious to receive thy just command, 
 
 That sends me to perdition or says Come. 
 
 THIS SILVERY HAIR 
 
 In old Golconda's mines there is no gold 
 So vastly rich as is this slender cord. 
 
 All silvered o'er with freighted years untold. 
 As it twines around the throne of reason's lord. 
 
 This silvery hair was bought with the price of 
 years 
 
 Of grief and pain and uniequited toil, 
 Bathed at the baptismal fount of scalding tears, 
 
 Tried in the test of pestilential fears. 
 
20 Cans of Inspiration. 
 
 Yet it bears the shades of Hlies pure and white — 
 Sweet emblems fair of some forthcoming joy — 
 
 Oh, may it serve as guide to peace and right. 
 And heavenly joys unmixed with earth's alloy. 
 
 No richer boon could to my soul be given 
 
 Than this bright waymark of the coming life; 
 
 It stands as mile-stone on the way to heaven, 
 Cleansed from all dross by earthly pain and 
 strife. 
 
 TRUE FRIENDSHIP 
 
 Friend after friend we thought sincere 
 Have proven false and left us lone, 
 
 And oft we've shed the silent tear 
 As cords were broken one by one. 
 
 Not more than twelve have proven true 
 To friendship's pure unselfish claims, 
 
 And those we treasure far above 
 The richest, rarest diadems. 
 
 Nor can we dote on all of these 
 
 Since Christ could only boast of eleven, 
 
 Indeed we would not be surprised 
 To only find the Jewish seven. 
 
 And e'en among the eleven was one 
 Who came with smiles and oily tongue. 
 
 And whom e'en Jesus could not see 
 As he stood there amid the throng. 
 
 A worse than Peter was this onr^, 
 This Judas of the olden times, 
 
 Tho' ancient as the Hebrew's song 
 He marches on thro' crcedal lines. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 21 
 
 And sits to-day 'neath costly domes, 
 
 Beneath tall spires that point to heaven, 
 
 While Peter his great sin bemoans, 
 Judas still lurks among the eleven. 
 
 And so we still expect to find 
 
 Peter and Judas among the few, 
 We thought sincere, for we are 1)lind 
 
 Till hidden springs are brought to view. 
 
 Tis very hard to doubt a friend 
 
 Who Clasps our hand with earnest zeal, 
 
 On whom we think we can depend 
 In times of woe as well as weal. 
 
 And yet we have so often felt 
 
 A Judas kiss upon our cheek, 
 And with a Peter we have knelt, 
 
 Who us denied within a week. 
 
 That we have almost broken faith 
 
 With sunny smile and pleasant nod. 
 And iron grip of hand that saith 
 I want you for my present good. 
 
 ONE BY ONE 
 
 •One by one our footprints vanish 
 From the sounds of long ago. 
 
 One by one are memories banished 
 From our hearts by weal or woe. 
 
 One by one our moments hasten 
 Into dim visions of the past, 
 
 One by one are fountains opened, 
 Each one different from the last. 
 
22 Cans of Inspiration. 
 
 One by one the angels meet us 
 With a balm for every tear, 
 
 One by one the bright lights greet us 
 From the future heavenly sphere. 
 
 One by one the sands are running 
 Thro' the glass we cannot turn ; 
 
 One by one our thoughts are turning 
 To the lessons yet to learn. 
 
 One by one we're passing over 
 
 To that bright and flowery plain ; 
 
 One by one the angels guide us ; 
 One by one we'll meet again. 
 
 One by one cold hands are folded ; 
 
 One by one our footsteps cease ; 
 One by one are spirits moulded 
 
 By His hand to stern decrees. 
 
 One by one earth's bonds are broken, 
 And the pinioned soul goes free ; 
 
 One by one the words are spoken, 
 ''Come ve wearv, rest with me." 
 
 MY WINTER GARDEN 
 
 Dame Nature last night while I was asleep 
 
 Carried me off to the land of dreams, 
 She led the way over oceans deep 
 
 And I gathered strength from the golden 
 beams. 
 That were poured over bright Italian ]:ilains 
 
 By the tropical sun of tliat l)eautiful clime, 
 Laden with odcrs from fragrant moors 
 
 Embalmed with the toucli of a hand divine. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 23 
 
 As if by magic while I was away 
 
 A mystical garden was grown for me ; 
 The flowers were blooming as lovely as May, 
 
 All laden with silver they seemed to be, 
 Here's a beautiful bed of ten-week stock 
 
 And here the momordea trails its vines. 
 Here grows the little forget-me-not, 
 
 And here the delicate cypress twines. 
 
 And here the cactus with stately leaves 
 Lifts its crowned head from the vale below, 
 Here a lofty palm is bowed by the breeze. 
 
 Close by the side of the glistening snow. 
 And here's a bed of beautiful ferns, 
 
 The loveliest bed in the garden, I ween 
 They have drifted in from my childhood bowers, 
 
 Of which naught is left but a sacred dream. 
 
 And here lies a leaf from an oaken tree 
 
 Which has floated in from some oaken glen, 
 And here the wild flag is growing free 
 
 As it does in nature's deserted fen. 
 And here stands a rose-tree covered with leaves. 
 
 Some are turned back and some fearfully torn, 
 As if't had been shaken by a chilling breeze 
 
 Of December's cold breath, with a touch o^ 
 scorn. 
 
 As true as Hfe there's a woman's face. 
 
 Peeping out from the crystalized bowers, 
 Tho' her form is hid neath the glistening lace. 
 
 Her face is as fair as the silvery flowers. 
 But a fatal simoon has come and gone 
 
 And breathed on my garden its heated breath 
 That withered my flowers one by one 
 
 With a magical wand surcharged with death. 
 
24 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 FROM THE SPIRIT OF G. W. HASTINGS, 
 TO M. M. SISCO 
 
 By Mrs. Samuel Sunderland. 
 
 Out of the darkness into the light, 
 I in true beauty have taken my flight, 
 
 And from my home so pure and so lovely, 
 I have come to you, cousin, to-night. 
 
 Sweet is the life that fears not our answers 
 As we approach from the bright world of bliss, 
 
 Often I come and on your loved forehead 
 
 Imprint my true love in affection's warm kiss. 
 
 You are yet to win greatest of glories, 
 
 From the bright angels that come near you 
 each day 
 To tell you of heaven and all ancient stories. 
 Of the realms where we go the world says, if 
 we pray. 
 
 But I passed on and without that achievement 
 I reached the bright home that awaited me 
 there. 
 
 And as a brave soldier that's resting from battle 
 I stand with bright angels both loving and fair. 
 
 You will the same have a briglit home in heaven. 
 
 Ever so bright for the good works you've done ; 
 
 Tis your works that will give you the brightest 
 
 of mansions, 
 
 When death yield unto you the crown you 
 
 have won. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 25 
 
 Sweetest of hours 1 have often passed with you 
 Dearest of cousins, so noble in mind, 
 
 Beautiful angels come oft to impress you 
 
 With the great truths that you some day will 
 find. 
 
 For which ere a year has rolled its time o'er you, 
 
 You will be given due praises in song, 
 Give all the grand truths with which they impress 
 
 And all of the honors are yours when they re 
 won. 
 
 THE SOLDIERS' HOME 
 At Marshalltown, Iowa. 
 
 Three hundred and fifty human souls 
 Dwell in this beautiful soldiers' home, 
 
 Embellished with beautiful trees and flowers. 
 Overshadowed by heaven's blue-arched dome, 
 
 Three hundred and fifty lone, wrecked souls 
 Stand on the shores of time's low ebb, 
 
 All bereft of tender and loving ties, 
 
 With no brilliant shades in life's dark web. 
 
 Three hundred and fifty hearts beat low, 
 With never a thrill at the touch of hands, 
 
 Three hundred and fifty wonder how 
 
 A note would sound from angelic bands. 
 
 Three hundred and fifty lonely hearts 
 Hunger in vain for the love of a child. 
 
 And they list in vain mid the crowded marts 
 For the silvery laugh, rolicking wild. 
 
26 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Three hundred and fifty tongues hsp no more 
 The loving words they were wont to speak 
 
 To a mother or sister, or wife, or child, 
 Ere their manly pulse grew tired and weak. 
 
 Seven hundred trembling and weary hands 
 Fall listless down by their master's side, 
 
 Seven hundred tired, faltering feet 
 Over the threshold noiselessly glide. 
 
 Seven hundred longing and time bleer'd eyes 
 Look hopelessly back o'er love's dead waste, 
 
 Then look ahead to the coming days, 
 
 When each hungering soul shall meet its mate. 
 
 When they, too, shall walk in the summerland, 
 Freed from the thoughts of that terrible war. 
 
 Where they suffered and bled, a united band, 
 For the liberty tyranny could not mar. 
 
 Seven hundred ears have long listed the sound 
 Of voices heard in the days gone by. 
 
 When each youthful heart with love did bound, 
 And their breast heaved not with a hopeless 
 sigh. 
 
 They have given their health, they have given 
 their all, 
 To snatch human souls from a viper's fangs. 
 They responded freely to their country's call. 
 And exchanged hope and love for war's dread 
 pangs. 
 
 But America's sons have done their best 
 
 To prepare good homes for our war blighted 
 men, 
 
 WHiere their shattered bodies may wait and rest. 
 Yet those homes are charncl houses, T ken. 
 
Cciiis of Ins {miration. 2J 
 
 Debased bv the claims of their obdurate minds, 
 Their manhood has fled and their virtues arc 
 gone — 
 They have tarnished the crown that war's g-lory 
 wins, 
 But 'twill brighten again in the life to come. 
 
 TO THE FRIEND OF MY YOUTH 
 
 My friend, I stand by your side once more. 
 Take my poor lone hand in your own, 
 
 And lead me down to the shady shore 
 
 Of that silvery lake where we used to roam 
 
 For I long to look on the rippHng waves, 
 
 As they lave the shore where our feet have 
 trod, 
 
 Tho' strange feet now crush the autumn leaves, 
 As they fall on the faded yet sacred sod. 
 
 Tho' strange hands gather the nuts so brown, 
 And strange hands gather the lilies fair, 
 
 Let us sit on the shore near the dear old home 
 And for one brief hour forget grief and care. 
 
 And now, dear one, bathe my throbbing brow 
 With cooling drops from the lakelet's breast, 
 
 Oh press me, dear, to your own heart now. 
 And here for one moment let me rest. 
 
 Let me pillow my head once more on thy breast, 
 And list once more to thy beating heart — 
 
 Oh grant as a boon this one last request, 
 
 Just for one sweet moment and then we must 
 part. 
 
28 Gcuis of Inspiration. 
 
 Let the pent-up fountains of sorrow flow 
 O'er the hurning aUar of love's dead waste, 
 
 And mix with the sparkling waves below 
 
 As they sweetly sing us their songs of the past. 
 
 Kiss my lips again as in days that are gone, 
 Smooth back the hair from my wrinkled brow, 
 
 Now call me again your own loved one, 
 And now fare-thee-well, for I must go. 
 
 But stay, I must ask for one more kiss. 
 Will you lay your hand once more in mine, 
 
 Press me once more to your loving breast, 
 Then we'll part again for the last last time. 
 
 But as we stand on eternity's side, 
 
 By ebb and flow of life's waters divine, 
 
 We'll find the crucible where was tried 
 
 The love that was yours, and the love that was 
 mine. 
 
 MY GUARDIAN SPIRIT 
 
 A voice comes floating from spirit realms. 
 Whose precious music thrills my very soul, 
 
 Its tones are those of an undying love. 
 Which point me toward the final goal. 
 
 I feel a presence rare around mc thrown 
 That cheers my flagging spirit on its way, 
 
 'Tis a soft zephyr from the heavenly home, 
 Its robes are gilded with eternal cfay. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 29 
 
 It parts with unseen fingers my silvery hair, 
 And bathes my clouded brow with truth and 
 light ; 
 
 Tells me of heavenly scenes so bright and fair, 
 Until my spirit longs to take its flight. 
 
 It bears to me the olive-branch of peace, 
 
 And spans my path with rainbow tinted rays, 
 
 It bids the surging waves of care to cease, 
 And as it did of old, "The sea obeys." 
 
 It draws aside the veil and bids me look 
 On the ambrosial fields of truth and love ; 
 
 [t turns for me each leaf in nature's book, 
 And teaches lessons from the courts above. 
 
 It is my teacher from the great eternal. 
 And as it hovers o'er each earthly day, 
 
 It brings me hopes and joys that are supernal, 
 Then takes mv hand and leads me on my way. 
 
 And as I feel the pressure of that hand, 
 I know the sacred voice is true to me, 
 
 It leaves for me the rest of its bright band, 
 The pearls it brings no human eye can see. 
 
 LIFE'S VOYAGE- 
 
 Weary of asking what I ought to be, 
 
 I stand upon my vessel, and looking back 
 
 O'er the wake it leaves upon the sea, 
 I see no joy upon its lonely track. 
 
 This dreary voyage is all the world to me. 
 For as I hold the helm in my weak hand, 
 
 I look above the waters of the sea. 
 And there behold a bright and glorious band. 
 
30 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 The leader of that 1)rio:ht and happy l)and 
 
 r»ends down and lays his hand upon my helm, 
 
 Steering my life-boat toward the summer-land, 
 And says I'll find my joys in that bright realm. 
 
 And so I look beyond for joy and peace, 
 
 Knowing the darkness soon will turn to light, 
 
 Knowing each hungering soul will find a feast 
 Of truth and joy in t>;e eternal right. 
 
 But as my soul looks out upon life's strand, 
 Barque after barque I see upon life's coast, 
 
 Some move as if by heavenly breezes fanned. 
 And some as if by mountain waves are tossed. 
 
 Some sail as in the light of heavenly bliss, 
 
 But dark and threatening clouds are hovering 
 nigh. 
 And Oh ! I shudder lest a Judas' kiss 
 May break the glittering spell, and bring a 
 ' sigh. 
 
 And some are stranded on the shoals of error, 
 The very grip of Satan holds them fast. 
 
 And as they look they see life's perfect mirror 
 Tn their torn sails and broken spars and masts. 
 
 And as each life-boat glideth o'er the sea, 
 The struggle is a fearful one at best, 
 
 For they cannot see the eternal powers that be. 
 And that their helms by other hands are 
 press'd. 
 
 And so tliey pray as did the Christ of old, 
 
 That the bitter cup — mixed by another's hand 
 
 May pass — and leave them nought but shining 
 gold 
 To make tlicir cartlil\- life supremely grand. 
 
Ceins of hispiralioii. 31 
 
 They cannot see beyond their cross a crown, 
 For Moses' veil is still before their eyes, 
 
 And the holy book the angel's seal hath bound, 
 Which leaves their visions fettered by earthly 
 ties. 
 
 IF WE KNEW 
 
 If we knew what life will bring us. 
 
 When by mother's knee we stand, 
 
 If we knew the thorny by-ways 
 
 Stretching o'er life's desert strand, 
 
 If we knew what life will bring us, 
 
 On Hfe's moaning, untried sea. 
 
 When we climb the hill for chestnuts, 
 
 Or watch the birdling yet to be. 
 
 Could we see our heart's love frozen, 
 
 And hope's fountain running low, 
 
 No trusting faith in one we've chosen, 
 
 While to fate's decree we bow. 
 
 Would we sit in childhood's sunshine. 
 
 And long for manhood's freighted dreams. 
 
 Or reck the cloudless sky of sometime, 
 
 Will be laden with bright gleams. 
 
 Wafting in from time's great chambers 
 
 All the lines of hope's ideal. 
 
 Would we in our little trundle 
 
 Push aside the bright home's seal. 
 
 And sigh for something grander, greater, 
 
 Than a mother's own true love 
 
 Given to us by our Creator, 
 
 From His fount of endless love? 
 
 But thro' childhood's glowing sunbeams, 
 
 Not a cloud appears in sight. 
 
 So we reck not of their rising, 
 
32 Gems of Iiispintlion. 
 
 While the home-Hght Hno-crs bright. 
 
 We see not love's broken heart-strings 
 
 Quivering in domestic strife. 
 
 Nor the grief his waning light flings 
 
 O'er the thorny path of life. 
 
 So we bask in childhood's beauties, 
 
 Free from all domestic grief. 
 
 For our father and our mother 
 
 Know this happiness is brief. 
 
 So we start upon life's pathway 
 
 Unprepared for rocks or shoals, 
 
 With no landmarks on life's highway 
 
 Pointing out life's hidden folds. 
 
 AT MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME 
 
 I stand beside a lovely little lake 
 
 That's nestled down among the great high 
 hills, 
 And as I gaze upon its beauties rare 
 My soul with rapture thrills, 
 And I exclaim, 
 Oh who can look upon this lovely scene 
 
 And not proclaim 
 The love and goodness of the great Su- 
 preme ! 
 I gaze above the waters of the lake. 
 
 And piles on piles of fleecy clouds I see. 
 All moulded into bright and beautious forms 
 And gliding toward the sea. 
 
 1 look across upon the other shore 
 And there I find a rich and glorious feast, 
 
 A landscape covered o'er 
 With lovely farms and cottages of peace. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 33 
 
 And grand old hills stand towering toward the 
 skies 
 
 In their majestic beauty. 
 And far above the hills great trees still rise 
 
 Like sentinels on duty. 
 The sky above my head serene and fair, 
 
 Brings peace and joy to me. 
 I doubt if Italy boast a scene more fair 
 
 Or beautiful to see. 
 Oh, who can look upon a scene like this 
 
 And curse this little earth 
 Because it brings to them no mortal bliss 
 
 Because from birth 
 They have been blind to all that's grand and 
 good. 
 
 For shining gold 
 Has furnished them with their much needed- 
 food 
 
 And left this wealth untold. 
 And as they feed upon their glittering husks 
 
 No happiness they find ; 
 Their griefs and sorrows are beyond the ken 
 
 Of human kind. 
 Yet they persist in sitting at this feast 
 
 That satisfieth not ; 
 Beltshazzar's feast it is, to say the least 
 
 In this bright spot. 
 For is this not a Babylonian age ? 
 
 In which we live. 
 We thrust aside the wise and ancient sage 
 
 And will not receive 
 The truths he carved for us from nature's lore 
 
 In ages past. 
 But as we view the facts for us in store 
 
 We stand aghast ; 
 For, lo, the time will come when all mankind 
 
 Must lav aside this love of dross. 
 
34 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 And look with scorn upon the ghttering bands 
 
 That bind them to the cross. 
 And when we break the chains that bind us down 
 
 To our idolatry 
 We shall behold the lovely flowers that crown 
 
 The earth with beauty. 
 Then happiness we'll finl upon this earth ; 
 
 This lovely earth of ours, 
 Which is the real mother of our birth, 
 
 All draped with flowers, 
 That must bear fruits to satisfy the tastes 
 
 Of human needs 
 And bid the searching fire of truth lay waste 
 
 To all our creeds. 
 
 THE LIFE OF A DEWDROP 
 
 I was born in the boundless ocean deep, 
 
 And for ages I lay in its depths asleep, 
 
 But at length I was waked by its fearful roar, 
 
 And I looked around on a beautiful store 
 
 Of corals and shells and diamonds bright, 
 
 And sea-weeds begemmed with pearls pure and 
 
 white, 
 Which were scattered around on mv wide ocean 
 
 bed. 
 As silent and still as though they were dead. 
 
 As I looked about on my beautiful home, 
 My kindred drops greeted me one by one, 
 And they raised me up from my sea-shell home, 
 To ride in joy on a crest of foam, 
 That crowned the head of a bright blue wave, 
 Which bore me along toward a cold dark cave, 
 Where it dashed me upon a cold, gray stone, 
 And left me to moan mv fate all alone. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 35 
 
 But soon there came down a warm bright ray, 
 
 To the very rock on which T lay. 
 
 And it took me up to the bright blue sky, 
 
 To ride on the clouds so high, O so high, 
 
 That I dare not look down for fear I should fall, 
 
 And dash me in pieces against some wall. 
 
 So I looked above toward the bright sun's rays, 
 
 As I rode along in a light misty haze. 
 
 But as I rode high in the pride of my might, 
 A black heavy cloud impeded my flight, 
 And great drops of rain much stronger than I, 
 Drew me into their arms as we sailed tlirough 
 
 the sky. 
 But soon I grew tired of riding on air, 
 I trembled with fear at the lightning's red glare, 
 And the thunder it shook me and caused me to 
 
 fall 
 In a clear little brooklet exceedingly small. 
 
 Then my bright shining kindred soon bore me 
 
 along 
 To a cool flowing river so mighty and strong 
 That I thought it would crush the life out of me 
 As it hurled me and twnded me along toward the 
 
 sea. 
 And as I flowed down 'tween the banks of the 
 
 Rhine, 
 I could see the great river was running on time, 
 And soon I should be in my seagirt home, 
 With the waves rolling over me one by one. 
 
 And then T thought, I will lie down and sleep 
 On a bright coral wreath in the ocean deep. 
 But ere I had reached mv sparkling bed. 
 Again I was drawn to the sky overhead; 
 
36 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 And there I drifted for days and days, 
 At the top of my speed in cold white haze, 
 But at length I came down in a dark cold stream, 
 And I said, ''Is this life or a terrible dream?" 
 
 The stream bore me on so quiet and deep, 
 
 Had it not been so cold, 'twould have lulled me 
 
 to sleep. 
 But in a cold shiver I was plunged o'er some falls. 
 Which are called the Niagara, with great stony 
 
 walls. 
 And then I went down in a pit deep and cold, 
 'The most terrible place I e'er did behold. 
 I plunged and I struggled and tried to get out, 
 But on finding I couldn't I gave a great shout. 
 
 But soon the swift waters bore me along 
 
 With the strength of a whirlwind so mighty and 
 
 strong. 
 To the waves that were capped with clouds of 
 
 foam. 
 Where the icebergs were glistening in the sun, 
 And the bright tinted rainbow arched my way, 
 For the sunbeams were dancing light and gay, 
 But the wind blew upon me and froze my breath, 
 And I said to mvself, "O, is this death?" 
 
 And there I lay for half a year. 
 And not one of my kindred e'er shed a tear. 
 For they too were wrapped in a glittering fold 
 Of December's mantle all white and cold. 
 But at length there came a warm gentle breeze 
 From the sunny south and its beautiful seas, 
 And it gave me a kiss and said will you come 
 And go with me to my bright, sunny home? 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 37 
 
 Then it took me up on its fond loving breast, 
 Where for once in my hfe I found some rest, 
 And it bore me along so quiet and still 
 On the mists of the morn to a bright flowing rill, 
 Which flowed along to a cool bubbling spring, 
 Where morning and eve the orioles sing, 
 And bright little children come to play, 
 To while their bright happy hours away. 
 
 But I had not rested long in this place 
 Before there came a fair young face, 
 And looking on me she took me up 
 In a little golden shimmering cup. 
 To cool her fond sister's feverish lips, 
 And send new life to her finger tips. 
 But after long weary years of toil and strife, 
 I am proud to know that my mission is life. 
 
 THE CLOCK STRIKES TWELVE 
 
 The clock strikes twelve. Another year is dead 
 And gone to mingle with its kindred years ; 
 
 Yet all unlike so many that have fled 
 It fell asleep devoid of groans or tears. 
 
 Ah, peaceful death ! No raging storm without 
 Tells that a pain torments the Old Year's 
 breast ; 
 
 Not a silent tear is shed by Mother Earth 
 
 As she folds the Old Year in her arms to rest. 
 
 To tell us how meekly she transmits to fate 
 The eternal keeping of her last fond child 
 
 As it is ushered thro' Time's gilded gate. 
 Where Mercy holds her reign so calm and 
 mild. 
 
38 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 The clock strikes twelve, each shimmering 
 stroke proclaims 
 
 An ill or well spent year of human life, 
 And as we read each page of loss and gains. 
 
 Do we find peace and joy or woe and strife 
 
 Written upon the moments that have fled 
 In quick succession on Progression's score? 
 
 Some new invention, thriving where darkness leci 
 Along the path of Lethe's mazy shore. 
 
 Which comes to the front crowned with a golden 
 
 crest. 
 
 Won as bv magic from vears that wooed the 
 
 light ' 
 
 That had to yield to death their quickened zest, 
 
 Regardless of their hopes, to reach their right. 
 
 The clock strikes one, another year is born 
 The moment that the old year's light goes out, 
 
 Holding within its hand a golden horn 
 
 Filled with new glories which no king mav 
 flout. 
 
 It holds within its breast Progression's needs, 
 Clothed in fair Evolution's tinseled veil, 
 
 And sows all kingdoms with prolific seeds, 
 Clothed in the armor of Time's knighted mail. 
 
 Then, shall we murmur at the Great Supreme, 
 When with the plan of each successive birth 
 
 The light is growing steadily, and each gleam 
 Unfolds some potent factor to our earth. 
 
 Some new invention wrought with blood of men, 
 Which ignorance would strangle at its birth 
 
 Did not some power supreme hold it in ken 
 Until its worth is manifest to earth, 
 
Gcins of Inspiration. 39 
 
 The clock strikes one. We glory in the death 
 Of each successive year as it rolls round, 
 
 Knowing each year will yield its hampered 
 breath 
 To some new factor with new glories crowned. 
 
 And so, old year, we bid you a fond good-night 
 While we wrap with tender hands the babe 
 just born 
 
 In swaddling bands of untried mystic light, 
 Yet knowing each fair rose conceals its thorn. 
 
 Knowing that each reform has found its birth 
 In the death of something that was good and 
 true ; 
 
 A whole year lost or a loved one crucified 
 For sacred truths which genius holds in view. 
 
 TO MY SISTER 
 
 Yes, Sister, we all are weaving a web 
 
 And spinning the threads, I trow, 
 And they all are colored by our words and our 
 deeds 
 
 Of the far-away past and the now. 
 
 The woof is tinted with blue and gold 
 
 Of childhood's early morn, 
 And the beautiful gleams of a love untold 
 
 Ere our feet with briars were torn. 
 
 In youth come the hues of the amber sheaf, 
 
 The richest of all, I wean, 
 The tender green of the golden leaf, 
 
 But the warp has a darker sheen. 
 
40 Gems of Iiispirafiou. 
 
 In riper years come the lurid shades, 
 
 Reflected back from life's morn, 
 Which throws a shade o'er the sunniest g^lade 
 
 And pierces each brow with a thorn. 
 
 Then comes a narrow stripe of gray, 
 
 All shaded down to white, 
 And we close our eyes on the rainbow tints 
 
 As we grope along toward the light. 
 
 The tints of the woof we are weaving in 
 
 To this beautiful web of life 
 Can not be counted for the din 
 
 Of contention and sorrow and strife. 
 
 But the "Great I Am'' is counting the shades 
 
 As we weave them one by one, 
 Tho' the warp is his, the woof is ours, 
 
 When the heavenly robe is done. 
 
 DESPAIR OF THE DRUNKARD'S WIFE 
 
 Oh, to-night my heart is breaking, 
 Will some angel touch its strings. 
 
 Can I wait for morn's chill waking 
 And the fate that daylight brings ? 
 
 Will the cords have snapped asunder 
 
 When the east is glowing bright, 
 Will these lips be cold, I wonder. 
 
 Ere the dusky shades of night ? 
 
 Will these weary hands be folded 
 
 O'er a cold and pulseless breast. 
 Will the cold grave soon be holding 
 
 Tliis frail form in quiet rest? 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 41 
 
 Angels, tune your harp-strings gently 
 Lest like heart-strings they may break, 
 
 And their quivering notes come faintly 
 To the soul they may not wake. 
 
 But, behold ! the morn is breaking 
 
 Thro' the eastern heavenly gate, 
 And my pulses still are beating. 
 
 Be strong, my soul, awake ! awake ! 
 
 WHAT ARE YE? 
 
 O, ye, who stand within the pearly gates, - 
 Look if ye can upon this sin-cursed age 
 And then enjoy your heavenly charms so bright, 
 And swear them pure and free from earthlv 
 blight. 
 
 Can ye stand there robed in your shining dress 
 And look upon your brothers in distress. 
 And swear by the eternal powers that be 
 That ye care naught for human misery? 
 
 And if ye care for earthly agony, 
 As ye look down through all eternity, 
 Can ye be happy in your heavenly home 
 And shower praises on the holy One ? 
 
 Do ye not catch at times some earthly wail 
 As it floats out upon the midnight gale 
 From the low, sinking, sin-sick human soul. 
 As it goes down while striving for the goal ? 
 
 And as ye bask within your heavenly light 
 x\re ye quite sure that ye are in the right ? 
 Or have ye left some of your crosses here 
 For some unselfish, faithful soul to bear? 
 
42 Gciiis of Inspiration. 
 
 Did ye on earth put on the holy sandals 
 And in your heart of hearts defy all scandals ; 
 Live true to Nature and to Nature's God, 
 Or did ye crouch and cower beneath the rod ? 
 
 Did ye stand fast to all that's good and true. 
 In spite of what the world might say of you, 
 Or in your weakness did ye shirk God's truth 
 And thereby scatter wide the joys of youth ? 
 
 And as ye walked adown Life's thorny way 
 Did ye not pick the flowers that fade and die 
 Instead of digging gems from 'neath the mould 
 To weave into your crown of shining gold ? 
 
 OVER-PRODUCTION 
 
 Over-production ! I start at the sound, 
 'Tis the trashiest word that ever was found ; 
 Search Hebrew and Greek and Latin and French, 
 No word can be found that has caused such a 
 stench 
 
 Of boodling lies and scorpion stings, 
 
 As are hidden in folds of monopoly's wings, 
 
 For the Shylocks have bought the press, church 
 
 and state. 
 While willing labor begs at each gate. 
 
 Over-production's a libel, I say, 
 
 Though the shelves in all stores are piled very 
 
 high, 
 And over-production makes every one try 
 To sell us their wares when they know we can't 
 
 buy. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 43 
 
 Though we need very much for the house and the 
 
 barn, 
 And clothing is wanted for figures forlorn, 
 Try hard as we may to make both ends meet, 
 Our rent may fail, then we're turned on the street. 
 
 There's the cow to feed and the chickens to keep. 
 Three pairs of shoes needed for six little feet. 
 And though jNIae is modest, and does not com- 
 plain, 
 I watch her in silence and grief and pain. 
 
 Oh, my dear little Mae, who stood by my side, 
 Just twelve years ago a beautiful bride. 
 How little I thought t'would e'er come to this, 
 That to save me a little she would turn her last 
 dress. 
 
 First wTong side out, then upside down, 
 With never so much as the smirk of a frown. 
 Then hindside before, just by piercing a gore : 
 It makes my heart's blood stand still at the core. 
 
 Over-production! just look at this hat, 
 'Tis faded and greasy, but what of that ? 
 It covers my head, so I don't care a curse, 
 But the holes in my shoes are ten times worse. 
 
 ]\Iy pant-legs are both worn thro' at the knees, 
 My elbows are out of both coat sleeves. 
 My socks have holes at the heels and the toes, 
 A dollar a day won't buy food and clothes. 
 
 Patch, did you say? They won't hold a patch. 
 And yet I am not the worst chick in the hatch, 
 For many who are willing to work have to tramp, 
 And sleep on the ground in the cold and the damp. 
 
44 Gems of inspiration. 
 
 I work very hard, but try as I may, 
 I can't keep my famjly on a dollar a day, 
 For labor is shackled and bound to the stake. 
 Waiting for Uncle Sam to throw open the gate. 
 
 ST. JOHN'S SECOND VISION OF 
 HEAVEN 
 
 "Prayer is the soul's sincere desire 
 "Uttered or unexpressed." 
 
 As I lay on my couch asleep one night, 
 I dream'd two angels stood by my side, 
 
 Their robes seem'd made of shining light, 
 And their faces glow'd with stately pride. 
 
 And as each one took me by the hand, 
 
 They said, "We are here as your spirit guide, 
 
 Come, go with us to the summer land. 
 The gates of heaven are open wide." 
 
 So they took my hands and they led me on, 
 Through gay parterres and shady nooks, 
 
 Through forest bower and rugged glens, 
 O'er flowery field, by sparkling brooks. 
 
 We seem'd to fly on the wings of the night, 
 All beset with stars of hope and love, 
 
 Which wafted us on toward that home of light, 
 Where everything should in harmony move. 
 
 At last they came to a winding stair. 
 That led the way up to heaven's gate ; 
 
 The way was embossed with flowers rare, 
 That would yield perfume at every step. 
 
Ccjus of Inspiration. 45 
 
 ;VikI the gateway was arched with lovely flowers. 
 Flowers from every bower and clime,. 
 
 And on cither side were lovely bowers, 
 That were interwoven with odors divine. 
 
 And I wished that I might stop and rest 
 In the bowers outside of heaven's gate, 
 
 But as I expressed my wish to my guides 
 They said, "Alas, we cannot wait." 
 
 So they ushered me in before my God, 
 Who sat on his throne, his face all askew ; 
 
 He grasped in his hand his iron rod, 
 
 But he said, on looking, ''Why, John, is that 
 you?" 
 
 Then he came straight down from his throne of 
 
 grace. 
 And as he looked me square in the face, 
 He said, 'T suppose that you want to see all — 
 From the golden streets to the jasper wall." 
 
 And so he led me on and on. 
 Till we came to the center of heaven's dome, 
 And there he stopped by a little hole. 
 About the size of a common bowl. 
 
 And as we stood by the side of that hole 
 (About the size of a common bowl) 
 The Lord said, "John, get down on your knees. 
 And see what you can see, if you please." 
 
 And as I looked 'way down in the hole, 
 Which, at the top, was so very small, 
 It was at the bottom so very wide. 
 That it covered the earth on either side. 
 
46 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 I could see that it was morning there, 
 For the earth was aglow with heauties rare, 
 And I wondered how many days had passed 
 Since I on the earth had looked my last. 
 
 And while I was kneeling, as if in prayer, 
 The Lord said, "John, put down your ear. 
 And hear what a terrible earthly moan 
 Comes up every day to the great white throne." 
 
 Well, I listened, and such a medley of prayer 
 I never heard as came up there ; 
 'Twas when tfie north and south were at war, 
 And all were standing before the bar 
 
 Pleading with God to help them through. 
 For they all were right, He very well knew, 
 So each side prayed for aid from on high 
 To lead them on to victory. 
 
 And then there were private prayers a score, 
 That came up from beneath the closet door ; 
 Some were good and some were bad, 
 But they made their prayers of the stufif the- had. 
 
 One fair maid was praying with vim 
 
 That her hair which was all falling out would 
 
 grow in, 
 And hang round her brow in beautiful curls. 
 That she might outshine all other girls. 
 
 And there was one — old Deacon Knapp — 
 He prayed for this and he prayed for that ; 
 And as he prayed he wondered whv 
 His fishc:-, of gold were such smallfrv. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 47 
 
 And one old saint always prayed for the poor, 
 He had of gold twelve thousand and more, 
 But if his tenants failed to pay rent 
 Out in the cold they were always sent. 
 
 One prayed that his neighbor's cow might die, 
 Because the old creature was so sly ; 
 She would let down the fence and then walk in, 
 And the way she tangled his grain was a sin. 
 
 And one wee little son of Ham 
 Prayed that his father was some other man, 
 And that his mother would never scold, 
 And thereby keep him out in the cold. 
 
 All prayed that God would stay the tide 
 That would carry them over to the other side, 
 Tho' they said their lives were of little worth. 
 Compared with the great and heavenly birth. 
 
 Still, life is sweet to every man, 
 All like to live on earth who can, 
 But, nevertheless, thy will be done, 
 Father, Holy Ghost and Son. 
 
 Then God took my hand and raised me up. 
 And he said was there ever another cup 
 So filled with vinegar and gall, 
 As the one they pass me through this hole? 
 
 Were ever the devils in hell so abused, 
 
 As I when of making such fools Vm accused ; 
 
 And is there in space a hotter hell 
 
 Than the heaven in which I am forced to dwell ? 
 
48 CcJiis of Inspiration. 
 
 Then he wiped the sweat from his Lordly brow, 
 Drops of blood running down to the ground, you 
 
 know, 
 As it did when on earth he was crucified, 
 Where, between two thieves, he groaned an 1 
 
 died. 
 
 THE MOTHER OE GOD 
 
 The Saviour's mother was only a woman, 
 
 A woman only in body and soul ; 
 Like all women of earth she was only human. 
 
 Her wonderful motherhood perfect and whole. 
 
 Overshadowed by holy love divine, 
 
 As every woman might be to-day, 
 Were she free to bow at nature s shrine 
 
 In her own good time and identity. 
 
 But selfish passions vile and profane 
 
 Impede the growth of the beautiful mind — 
 
 Impede all progress toward every gain, 
 And leave love lame and deaf and blind. 
 
 And he stumbles and falls o'er the rubbish of 
 years. 
 
 While trying to free his hampered wings. 
 And to free his eyes from the blinding tears. 
 
 As he lists to the notes Aphrodite sings. 
 
 Has woman never the right to choose 
 
 The man who has ever the power to thrill 
 Her spirit, and not that power abuse. 
 That he witli nectar her life nnv fill? 
 
Gcius of Inspiration. 49 
 
 All life, all hope, all happiness. 
 
 Woman holds e'en now in her palsied hand, 
 And she alone can have power to bless 
 
 All of the God there is ni man. 
 
 Give woman the truths of her innate life, 
 
 And every man a Saviour will be, 
 Then we'll need no clergy with sermons rife 
 
 To pave our paths to eternity. 
 
 For all men will walk forth true gods in their 
 might. 
 
 And better still than the great Nazarene, 
 For theuisclz'cs they will sare as gods of right, 
 
 While woman they'll crown as a loyal queen. 
 
 With the crown of virtue and truth and love, 
 
 Bespangled with gems from her quickened life, 
 And in beauty's own bowers the bridegroom will 
 rove. 
 While the Godchild is pressed by a true lover's 
 wife. 
 
 BLASTED HOPES 
 
 I stand alone mid the crowded throng, 
 
 None list to my burdened heart's low moan ; 
 
 I measure the depths of the merriest song, 
 But its cadence is ever stifled and lone. 
 
 Love has woven no shade in my web of life. 
 Its tints are too costly for me to wear ; 
 
 Joy's silvery chords are muffled with strife. 
 Each echoing strain is laden with care. 
 
50 Gems of Iiispiratio]!. 
 
 For love is not love when its wings are clipped, 
 Or when bound too fast by the tyrant's chains. 
 
 And can only thrive when its arrows are dipped 
 In the nectar of life's responsive claims. 
 
 True blending can scarcely come, I ween, 
 
 When the soul is bowed neath the Master's rod. 
 
 Yet love's flickering light is sometimes seen 
 As a blessing sent late in life from God. 
 
 When the body has passed the noontide of life, 
 And the hair is silvered with age and care, 
 
 When the spirit is ready to speed its way 
 To its God and its home in a purer air. 
 
 Love sometimes comes as a beacon light 
 
 From the byways of earth or the spirit plain s^ 
 
 And takes our hand and leads us aright, 
 
 As our soul reaches out for its missing chains. 
 
 Long, long have I wearied of this struggle for 
 bread, 
 
 And this famine of heart and famine of soul, 
 By the Master's hand I would fain be led 
 
 Where waves of wisdom eternally roll. 
 
 For my heart grows weary, my soul grows weak 
 In this race which ever before me I see. 
 
 Until of the future I dare not speak, 
 Or think of the ultimate yet to be. 
 
 For my hopes have ever been dashed to earth, 
 And a reckless hand has shaken my faith. 
 
 Till the love I once craved holds nothing of worth 
 And failure's the only bright star in my wreath. 
 
Gems of liis/^iralion. 51 
 
 MY LOVER IS WAITING FOR ME 
 
 I looked and I saw the gates ajar 
 
 Of that beautiful summer land. 
 And within those gates stood. my lover fair, 
 
 One link in the glorious band. 
 
 His robes were made or purest white, 
 Well decked with purple and gold, 
 
 And on his brow was a crown of light. 
 But its splendor can never be told. 
 
 And hyaloid sandals were on his feet. 
 Just brought from the orient shore. 
 
 In which to walk the flowery streets 
 Of those beautiful plains evermore. 
 
 The angel of love passed gently her hand 
 
 Over his broad noble brow, 
 And the angel of promise held over the band 
 
 Her beautiful bright tinted bow. 
 
 The angel of hope knelt low at his feet. 
 
 And planted her anchor there, 
 And the angel of joy sang her music sweet. 
 
 Near the beautiful gates ajar. 
 
 The angel of peace had cleansed his soul 
 
 From the stains of sin and hate, 
 And the angel of mercy had left her swortl 
 
 Outside of the beautiful gate. 
 
 And my bridegroom beckoned me to come. 
 And pillow my head on his breast. 
 
 Then he said, "Not yet can my true bride come 
 To the holv of holies and rest." 
 
52 Gems of Inspiratio)!. 
 
 When the time is ripe for me to go, 
 
 I know he will lead me o'er, 
 And will fold me within his arms, and lo! 
 
 My spirit shall thirst no more. 
 
 AN INVOCATION TO THE GOD OF 
 SLEEP 
 
 Oh, God of Sleep, come close my eyelids now, 
 My heart is sick and sore and needeth rest ; 
 Mine eyes are red with weeping, and my ears 
 Are almost sick of sounds. My hands at times 
 Almost refuse to labor, and my feet 
 Have walked too many vx^ary miles ; my burdens 
 Have grown too heavy, and my strength is fast 
 Forsaking me ; my joyous hours are fled. 
 My smiles are weak mementos of the past, 
 Clothed in the sable robes of sighs and tears, 
 My head falls heavy on my aching breast. 
 My soul is weary and it pleads for rest ; 
 Then come, O God of Sleep, please make my bed 
 In some green shady nook where the low winds 
 Will pulsate to the touch of milder chords. 
 Or where the graceful weeping-willow dips ; 
 Her pale and slender fingers in the lake, 
 Where fairies dance, and where the moonbeams 
 
 play 
 O'er the still waters ; where can come no sound 
 Of human suffering and human woe. 
 For I have looked on mortal agony 
 Till I can brook no further sound of grief. 
 Then sing to me the low, sweet lull-a-by 
 Which once my mother sang. There, gentl\- touch 
 My aching eyelids now, and 
 Let me sleep. 
 
Gems of Lispiratioii. 53 
 
 MOTHER GRUNDY DO BE QUIET 
 
 My dear Mother Grundy how is it you know 
 
 So much about every one's Hfe, 
 When you care for naught but to make a big show 
 
 In the walks of your own daily hfe? 
 
 How is it you can see the inside and out, 
 And know all about every one's biz, 
 
 When the shams of society are turned wrongside 
 out, 
 You say you can tell by their phiz ? 
 
 When a man and his wife have fought the good 
 fight, 
 
 You say it is wonderful queer. 
 And as you remember your own life is right, 
 
 You just put a small flea in each ear. 
 
 You say that his wife was jealous of him. 
 But she's not much to blame after all, 
 
 For tho he's genteel he's as ugly as sin. 
 And she is the venom of all. 
 
 When Cupid, by trying to shoot two at once. 
 
 Has broken his silver-washed bow, 
 You say that you wish it had been the rogue's 
 neck. 
 
 Because he'd two strings to his bow. 
 
 And when a young lady chances to get a new hat. 
 You wonder right off where she got it, 
 
 And your cheeeks burn with shame, and your 
 heart goes pit-pat, 
 When told that her young lover bought it. 
 
54 Cciiis of Inspiration. 
 
 And if a young lady goes off on a trip, 
 You wonder, "What has she gone for? 
 
 "Oh, how she does dress, and flirt, the young flip, 
 ''Most hkely her beau has gone with her." 
 
 And if there chance to be a wedding in town. 
 You wonder "how many'll be there, 
 
 **If the bride gives her hand with a smile or a 
 frown, 
 "And if the groom's ugly or fair." 
 
 You say, "She's a flirt, the miserable thing, 
 
 "And he is quite rich, but a bore, 
 "To the four winds of heaven his wealth she will 
 fling, 
 
 "And then she'll be ofif with a whir." 
 
 And now, "Mother Grundy," do tell us, we pray. 
 
 Is it you or your children that's fretting. 
 And are you aware by what you do say. 
 
 The keen edges of gossip you're whetting? 
 
 ANGEL GUESTS 
 
 Clothed in the shining robes of truth they come, 
 
 The spirits of the blest ; 
 They tell us of our fair celestial home, 
 
 Sweet home of joyous rest. 
 
 They bring us flowers from a bright, roseate 
 clime. 
 
 Fresh from their dewy bowers. 
 So richly wrought with God's own hand divine. 
 
 With holy love and powers. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 55 
 
 They often whisper in our hstening ears, 
 
 Sweet words of sacred trust ; 
 They say our sorrows in a few short years 
 
 VVill slumber neath the dust. 
 
 They sing their cheering songs to souls oppressed, 
 
 And lead them from their care, 
 Up to their banquet halls of happiness, 
 
 To hold communion there. 
 
 Oh, this communion, sweet with heavenly joys. 
 
 Fresh from the fount of life. 
 It sweeps across the free unfettered soul, 
 
 Divorced from earthly strife. 
 
 They talk to us of universal love, 
 
 While yet we live on earth, 
 But only when we dwell with those above, 
 
 We'll find the second birth. 
 
 They tell us in that summer land our food 
 
 Is never bought with gold. 
 Our robes are never bought with oppression's 
 blood, 
 
 To tarnish and grow old. 
 
 There love ne'er moans upon the fatal cross. 
 
 Nor drinks the bitter cup. 
 But it is cleansed from passion's sordid dross, 
 
 And drinks life's nectar up. 
 
 OUT OF THE DARKNESS 
 
 Out of the darkness into the light, 
 
 A woman walk'd forth with innocent grace, 
 
 Her countenance beam'd with intelligence bright, 
 Tho the marks of oppression she wore on her 
 face. 
 
56 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Yet in ignorant bliss she sauntered forth, 
 At the beck and the nod of her legal lord, 
 
 Tho' she often griev'd o'er her menial worth. 
 As she gazed on the chains that oppression had 
 forged. 
 
 How little she knew she was helping her lord 
 To forge closer the chains at which she re- 
 coil'd, 
 By meekly lamenting her lost womanhood, 
 As she gazed on the treadmill where she had 
 toiled. 
 
 And how little she knew of the sovereign law. 
 That who takes a serf's place will be treated as 
 
 such. 
 So she crawled at his feet with a feeling of awe. 
 And he gave her a slur as his garments she 
 
 touched. 
 
 Lo ! then she arose in her strength and her pride ; 
 
 Said she never was born to crawl at man's feet ; 
 But that she might be equal was plucked from his 
 side, 
 
 And not from his head, nor yet from his feet. 
 
 And as she arose she could see in the east 
 The gray light of her morn was beginning to 
 dawn. 
 So with eyes dim with tears she gazed on the 
 crest 
 Which God lay at her feet to be wove in her 
 crown. 
 
 And as her sun rose in the bright social heavens, 
 
 It shone on her crown wdth its light waving 
 
 crest ; 
 
 And it wither'd her chains till it snapped them 
 
 asunder, 
 
 While it left her in virtue and freedom to rest. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 57 
 
 And, like Cassiopea, she'll soon wear a crown, 
 As she waits in the chamber of Cephius with 
 him. 
 Then she'll crush into atoms the monster that 
 bound 
 Bright Andromeda down to pollution and sin. 
 
 And then she'll go forth from the church and the 
 state, 
 
 Clothed in her robes of intelHgence bright ; 
 For her manifold talents which once lay in wait, 
 
 Are beginning to shine in political light. 
 
 When all women walk forth in their own native 
 plain. 
 Then the deserts of earth like the roses shall 
 bloom — 
 When no soul shall be shut from humanity's ken, 
 God himself will then sing, ''Hallelujah, 'tis 
 done." 
 
 SONG OF THE AGES 
 
 Cast now thy shoes from ofif thy feet, 
 And climb the mountain, slippery, steep ; 
 Then hurl the clouds at one fell blow 
 Into the dark rugged valley below. 
 
 Unveil your eyes to catch the bright 
 
 And glorious waves of spirit light ; 
 
 Then list to the songs of the hymning spheres. 
 
 As they sing of progression's untried years. 
 
 Then look across the starry dome. 
 To red Arcturus in his palace home ; 
 Who binds the waters of the moaning sea 
 In the path of earth's future destiny. 
 
58 Gems ol Inspiration. 
 
 Bootes, the shepherd, holds him there 
 To help him gather his flocks from afar. 
 On the purpling- deep the Shepherd floats 
 Toward Arago and his wondrous goats. 
 
 Who gathers them into his starry fold, 
 Away from the bears and the lions bold , 
 Where the lambs of Carmel are all gathered 
 
 home, 
 No more on Jamber's seas to roam. 
 
 Then, ho! from God's heights to the valley be- 
 low, 
 But dwell not on earthly sorrow and woe ; 
 Waste not one moment in harrowing fears ; 
 Waste not your strength in useless tears. 
 
 But rally around God's banner true, 
 That progression is ever unfolding to view, 
 Wliich is held aloft by the toiling millions. 
 While 'tis fanned by the breezes from angel's 
 pinions. 
 
 For it floats forever o'er the realms of space, 
 Where unseen worlds hold ever their place, 
 Held in the hollow of God's unseen hand , 
 Each sounding a note in the starry band. 
 
 And our own little earth, tho' a speck in the 
 
 dome, 
 Is sounding her key in a minor tone, 
 While she carries her host as one moaning heart, 
 Out of Earth's nic:ht, which is utterlv dark 
 
 'fe' 
 
 Into the morn of her own coming day. 
 Looking toward Chiron, the healer, away. 
 Toward Vega, the harp of God's choral choir, 
 And Astra, the goddess of liberty's fire 
 
Gems of Iiispiratioii. 59 
 
 Toward the great stone age of God's to-morrow, 
 From which the god Chiron chisels his arrow 
 To kill the malice which Scorpio holds 
 In the poignant heart of his bloody folds. 
 
 W'lien onr earth shall have passed the dividing 
 
 line 
 Tween the great stone age and the god of wine, 
 Her daughters and sons will welcome peace, 
 As they drift away from Jamber's seas. 
 
 Where Bacchus now leads his staggering host. 
 With scarce enough manna to feed a ghost ; 
 And they'll flee to Shemida's invincible height, 
 Where God still proclaims, "Let there be light!'' 
 
 Then all will drink from God's sacred fount. 
 As they climb old Zion's lofty mount ; 
 But the top of the mount none ever will see 
 Thro' the mystic cycles of eternity. 
 
 But higher and higher all will climb. 
 As they feast on the light of wisdom divine ; 
 Each new truth outvieing the last before, 
 'Til all are surpised at God's bountiful store. 
 
 And all may drink from life's flowing stream 
 That flows from the love of a God unseen , 
 And all may eat of the bread of life 
 With which the fields of God are rife. 
 
6o Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 TO MY FRIEND 
 
 You say that you are gTOwing- old. 
 
 That your hair is turning gray, 
 That all the world seems dark and cold, 
 
 And clouds obscure your way. 
 
 You say you shun the festive throng, 
 You cannot brook its joyous mirth, 
 
 You cannot join the festive throng, 
 
 For in your breast there's naught but death. 
 
 But no, my friend, this cannot be, 
 A soul like yours cannot grow old, 
 
 Cannot be wrecked upon life's sea, 
 With all its native wealth untold. 
 
 Arouse yourself, cast off your fears, 
 
 And climb life's rugged mountain height. 
 
 Look far above those weary years, 
 
 That seemed to crush you in their flight. 
 
 Look far beyond those darkling clouds. 
 
 The sun shines on the other side. 
 Forget thy griefs the past enshrouds ; 
 
 Let hope and joy thy future guide. 
 
 Act well your part and do the work 
 The angels have assigned to you. 
 
 Look to the goal, then set your mark ; 
 Cast off the old, accept the new. 
 
 Stand firm by God's almighty truths. 
 Show to the world its creedal bonds 
 
 Have led them on in fated paths. 
 Where joy's own glory never blooms. 
 
Gems of Iiispirafiou. 6i 
 
 I COURTED THE MUSE 
 
 I courted the muse at the lattice. 
 
 In the Hght green shade of the trees ; 
 But only an echo came back to me 
 
 With the cool and welcome breeze. 
 So I sat and watched the mottled shade, 
 
 As the tender twigs bent low ; 
 And listed the sweetest notes they played 
 
 To the fairy world, I trow. 
 
 I sought her in the shaded glen. 
 
 Where flowers were blooming fair; 
 But she folded her wings near the marshy fen, 
 
 In the rays of the siui's bright glare, 
 And left me to gaze on the beauties rare 
 
 That were scattered on every side, 
 With never a word my thoughts to declare, 
 
 Or my wayward pen to guide. 
 
 I asked, yea begged, for her to come. 
 
 Clothed in her garland of poesy, 
 And stay av/hile in my grotto home. 
 
 And help me to paint in poetry 
 The beauties I found of every kind. 
 
 In the fairyland I had sought ; 
 And help me to words wherewith to bind 
 
 The shades by nature wrought. 
 
 I sought her beside the silvery lake, 
 
 Where the blue waves march in rovv^s — 
 Each one crov/ned with a crest of foam 
 
 As white as t'^e downy snows . 
 But if she came s^'C w^s hi^^ frnm me 
 
 By the pebbles' shimmerinof gleam. 
 And the water lilies, so stately and free, 
 
 As thev caucrht at the dav's last gleam. 
 
62 Cons of Iiispiratio}!. 
 
 I souc^ht her again in the darkened wood. 
 
 Where the berries lay on tlieir mossy bed , 
 Where the wintergreen with woody stem 
 
 Had given its youth to its berries red, 
 Then thrust them off like a worthless thing, 
 
 With their spicy juice and glowing sheen , 
 Fit for ye gods to feed upon, 
 
 Fit for the table of any queen. 
 
 But with all my seeking I could not ken 
 
 One rustle from her folded wings, 
 Or one faint throb from her rhythmic pen, 
 
 To tell you in rhyme all those glorious t!:ings 
 Which nature has kindly given to all 
 
 To show every soul that there is a God, 
 Who paints with more than a poet's art 
 
 And touches each germ with his rhythmic rod. 
 
 Oh, I almost weep with sore chagrin. 
 
 To think I can never find 
 The richest words of any tongue. 
 
 Or all the tongues combined, 
 To portray the lilies' purity, 
 
 Or the crimson disk of the rose. 
 Or the birds that chant in obscurity, 
 
 Or the rippling stream that flows. 
 
 Again the straying muse I sought. 
 
 When my blood with grief ran wild. 
 And agony sat like a thorny crown 
 
 On my frenzied brow and wild, 
 When lo ! she came with flowery wings, 
 
 W^caring her golden crown, 
 Tuning her harp's discordant strings, 
 
 With never the touch of a frown. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 63 
 
 And she pressed her cool and tender hand 
 
 Upon my burning brain ; 
 And she bound my bursting heart with a band 
 
 She wove from her sweetest strains ; 
 But told me I could find no words 
 
 To describe the rose's perfume, 
 Or weave into rhyme my holiest moods, 
 
 Or break the spell they illume. 
 
 That she could never help me to w^ords 
 
 To paint the sweet lullaby 
 Of the fatlier bird as he sweetly sings 
 
 To the nestlings where they lie ; 
 Nor could I paint the hum of the bees. 
 
 As they gather their nectar up , 
 When they climb the lofty cherry trees, 
 
 Or drink from the harebell's cup. 
 
 Nor could she guide my stubborn pen 
 
 To describe the lilies pure, 
 Or the beauties found in the rugged glen. 
 
 Or the wavelets that wash the shore. 
 So I know that she will never come 
 
 To break the enchanted hour, 
 When my soul communes with nature's God 
 
 In the paths of his consecrate bower. 
 
 But, lo ! she comes when my soul is bent 
 
 With its w^eight of canker and care. 
 And tells me my griefs are only lent 
 
 As waymarks on the golden stair. 
 And so I sit in the gloaming now. 
 
 Beside my wee cottage door, 
 And list to the rhythmic chimes that cling 
 
 To our souls from the heavenlv shore. 
 
64 Gnus of Inspiration. 
 
 I DREAMED 
 
 I dreamed. Was it only a beautiful dream? 
 
 Ah, yes ! Tho' I thought that I loved him still. 
 I dreamed that I stood by his side again, 
 
 That he still had the power my soul to thrill. 
 
 I dreamed ! Ah, yes, it was only a dream 
 Of the golden days that are past and gone, 
 
 As we stood at eve neath the day's last gleam, 
 While her lovely tints faded one by one. 
 
 I dreamed! (But, lo! 'twas a sacred dream) 
 
 That sometime yet in the years to come, 
 I shall love him again as in the days that are 
 gone, 
 When we've cross VI the threshold of our spirit 
 home. 
 
 Where he will exclaim from the depths of his 
 love, 
 *'Avaunt, thou gold, for youVe strangled my 
 soul. 
 Like a spectre along my pathway you' ve moved, 
 And blinded my eyes to life's hidden goal." 
 
 But list ! A sound comes welling up 
 
 From the depths of darkness now held in lieu, 
 And the drops of sweet in life's bitter cup 
 
 Oft speaks of that land where our dreams come 
 true. 
 
 And so I know 'tis not all a dream. 
 But only a shadow that's cast before ; 
 
 And I know such love must come back again 
 In all of its bcautv as in davs of yore. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 So I'll let love sleep in his meshes of gold, 
 
 While I dream that beautiful dream again ; 
 But when angels tune the harps that they hold, 
 My love, I know, will awake to their strains. 
 
 LOVE AND PASSION 
 
 When heart speaks to heart, 
 
 And honor from the soul 
 Comes welling up from joy's bubbling fount, 
 
 When two souls blend in harmony as one 
 We know the blending is of purest love. 
 
 But list, when discord sounds his thundering 
 notes 
 Along earth's paths of grief and toil and care. 
 
 And mommon keeps time to passion's dole- 
 ful strains. 
 We know such love was never born of heaven, 
 
 And must go down into the depths of woe, 
 Down, down, down, into the depths of woe. 
 
 HEAVENLY PICTURES 
 
 'Tis only a step to the heavenly sphere 
 Where nature has sculptured her ample halls, 
 
 And hung her pictures that were outlined here 
 On every side of her spiritual walls. 
 
 Some of those pictures are rife with truths 
 The penitent soul would gladly hide, 
 
 And some are aglow with beauties rare 
 
 Of delicate tints which the gods have dyed. 
 
66 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 And some wear a shade that is hard to ken, 
 For the tints are so varied and costly too. 
 
 It is hard to guess how, why, or when 
 Their untold wealth was given in lieu. 
 
 And some are so faint they are scarcely seen 
 So closely they're veiled by some diffident 
 heart, 
 
 Tho' the colors are rich and costly I ween 
 They are deeply inlaid by the sculptor's art. 
 
 So deep are they buried that ages will roll 
 Along the bright shores of eternal thought 
 
 Ere the deep veiled picture its scenes will unroll 
 And its secret folds be unveiled to the light. 
 
 And some seem so utterly worthless at first 
 They are passed unseen by the swaying crowd , 
 
 Until some great soul for wisdom athirst 
 Pierces the folds of their burial shroud. 
 
 And finds buried there so deep, so deep. 
 Some picture of his own earthly strife, 
 
 Inlaid with diamonds for him to keep 
 And polish anew in his spirit life. 
 
 Thus every picture contains some germ 
 
 Of immortal value to the conquering soul ; 
 
 No matter how worthless we may think the gem 
 The shades are there for us to control. 
 
 To polish and brighten by the heavenly light 
 And find the full value i3y experience wrought ; 
 
 Of the seeds that were sown in primeval night 
 By our earthly sorrows so dearly bouglit. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 67 
 
 For though the pictures we paint while here 
 May seem uncouth and rough and pale 
 
 A pearl may be hidden beneath each tear 
 Which we cannot see till we pierce the veil. 
 
 So out of the depths of disease and sin, 
 And out of the dark of error and strife 
 
 We may paint a picture that holds within 
 The germs that will guide our eternal life. 
 
 So thrust all vain regrets to the wind, 
 Say not to thy soul thou hast led me astray, 
 
 For deep 'neath earth's turbulent waves you 
 will find 
 Thy sins were only the fossils of clay. 
 
 So read thy pictures and read them aright, 
 
 Which the gods have hung on eternity's walls ; 
 
 Read them all by the rapidly growing light 
 Evolved by nature from her bolted halls. 
 
 Just as the corals are hidden beneath 
 
 The turbulent ocean so dark and so deep. 
 
 Which the waves upheave by their raging breath, 
 And give us. as beautious gifts, to keep. 
 
 Thus we learn the gods have hidden their gems, 
 Down deep in the darkness of mouldering 
 clay ; 
 
 But will bring them forth to catch the gleams 
 Of the glowing sun of man's spirit day. 
 
 And when each trust is brought to the light, 
 And wx scan it over and over again. 
 
 We will find it contains a jewel so bright. 
 We note not the cost of the heartache and 
 pain 
 
68 Gcjus of Inspiration. 
 
 That rent oiir souls throuo-h the tide of the years.. 
 
 And stranded all hopes of eternity's gain 
 Baptizing all joys in a chalice of tears, 
 
 Which will water all flowers on the spirit 
 plain. 
 
 YEARLY GREETINGS AT CLINTON 
 CAMP 
 
 Oh, those friendly yearly greetings, 
 How they pulsate through each heart, 
 
 Like the white-robed angels flitting 
 Through this cool and shady park. 
 
 For the spirits love Mount Pleasant, 
 
 As their earthly trysting place. 
 And they lead us like a cohort. 
 
 And baptize us with a grace. 
 
 That our souls, but little dream'd of 
 
 In the ages that are gone, 
 When we thought the love ties severed 
 
 Once the soul had wandered on. 
 
 When we thought the damned were many, 
 
 And the saints a chosen few. 
 Who, perhaps, were quite as funny 
 
 As those they said the devil knew. 
 
 But now the angels are here with us, 
 
 Teaching us of joys immortal. 
 They say our sins will soon forsake us, 
 
 When once we have passed the portal 
 
Gciiis of Inspiration. 69 
 
 That shuts out all worldly sorrow 
 
 As of very small moment. 
 And they say we'll see to-morrow 
 
 That our griefs are only lent, 
 
 And look so fleeting in the sky-light, 
 
 Which gilds the endless heavenly plains 
 
 That \vt view them by earth's twilight 
 As uses toward our heavenly gains, 
 
 For they say our sins and sorrows 
 
 Belong to earth, and earth alone. 
 And the soul no trouble borrows 
 
 When 'tis tuned to love alone. 
 
 They say all sin and care and turmoil 
 
 Will aj-pear like grains of sand. 
 When we walk d"'er heavenly free-soil. 
 
 Guided by our own loved band. 
 
 Lo ! then will these yearly greetings 
 
 Shine like diamonds in the dust, 
 When we gathered at Mount Pleasant 
 
 And hold in lieu as a sacred trust. 
 
 All which they so kindly give us 
 
 Thro' Gob's laws of light and love, 
 
 As rich gems of sweet communion 
 Scattered in our sylvan grove. 
 
 So as we met we soon will part. 
 
 With a friendly shake of hands, 
 Pulse beat with pulse and heart with heart, 
 
 In concert with our spirit friends. 
 
yo Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 THE LOVE LETTER 
 
 And hast thou come again, thou pure white dove, 
 And folded thy weary wings upon my tremb- 
 hng hand ; 
 Eve watch'd and waited for thy coming long. 
 For I craved the potence of love's soothing 
 l^alm. 
 
 This time you have come from afar I know, 
 And have stopped on thy journey to rest thy 
 wingc, 
 For thou bearest a tardy mark on thy brow, 
 Though urgent the news to me which you 
 bring. 
 
 But I pardon your loitering, you pale, sweet dove, 
 For you bear in your heart a sacred trust 
 
 That imbues my heart from his fountain of love 
 Which I know contains no passion or lust. 
 
 But my hope burnt low and my faith waxed pale. 
 
 Lest my lover would send you never again, 
 For we quarreled, mv cup was overflowing with 
 
 And bowed with grief, repentance and pain. 
 
 Had you not folded your wings on my hand, 
 And opened your heart to my wondering gaze,, 
 
 I should never have known that my lover was 
 true. 
 And forgiving, too, in his conquering ways. 
 
 Thou hast stirred in my soul the waters of life 
 That were chilled with the sorrow of liygone 
 days. 
 
 But now he is coming to claim me as wife, 
 May we live in the glow of love's rays ! 
 
Gems of luspiraiioii. 71 
 
 NOTHING IS LOST 
 
 Oh, how many beautiful flowers there are 
 Growing in nature's sechided glen. 
 
 Shedding their beautiful fragrance where 
 Never will come the footsteps of men. 
 
 Is their fragrance wasted on the passing breeze, 
 Because unsought by the lover of flowers, 
 
 Or their tints forgotten by the waving trees, 
 As they gather their fragrance for spirit 
 bowers. 
 
 Not at all. For the angels are watching their 
 
 growth, 
 And shading their tints through each moonless 
 
 night, 
 And weighing the worth of their beautiful breath. 
 As each petal comes forth to bask in the light. 
 
 Were they never seen by the heavenly band 
 Their beautiful growth would be worse than 
 vain, 
 And they'd surely shrink from their mission 
 grand. 
 And would never come forth to bloom again. 
 
 Tho' all unsought by the careless throng. 
 
 Their fragrance reaches the portals of heaven. 
 
 On their mission of love it is wafted along 
 On the trackless sea of earth's gold tinted even. 
 
 And no ruthless hand shall shorten their life 
 By snatching them madly from their parent 
 stems ; 
 And their growth is cheered by songs that are 
 rife 
 With the potent power of their chemic claims. 
 
72 Gcius of Inspiration. 
 
 MY IDOL OF LOVE 
 
 I built in my soul an idol of love ; 
 
 As fair as Madonna it seemed to me. 
 I thought it as pure as the angels above, 
 
 For a part of heaven it appeared to be. 
 
 As I wandered along on the highway of time, 
 I gathered gems from the depths of love's sea 
 
 With which to deck my idol divine 
 In robes of heavenly tapestry. 
 
 But alas ! alas ! my idol is gone. 
 
 I smote it to see if it were made of clay ; 
 And the fragments fell at my feet one by one, 
 
 As the sands I lift on the shore of the bay 
 
 Slip thro' my weary and trembling hand. 
 
 One by one, in spite of the grasp 
 With which I hold them. Each grain of sand 
 
 Is slipping away as if touched by a blast. 
 
 My idol I'll not call back again, 
 
 For my smiting found it nothing but clay, 
 
 Enclosed in a meshwork of silver and gold, 
 Even more transient than life's earthly day. 
 
 ^ut should my idol arise again 
 
 Out of its fragments of silver and gold, 
 knov'- it would soon seek its level, and then 
 It would crumble at touch into fragments cold. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 73 
 
 THAT LITTLE LEAF 
 
 A unit, is it, that little falling leaf? 
 
 Nay, 'tis a world. A prostrate world 'tis true. 
 
 But only for a time. It will gather up 
 
 The missing, shimmermg links of its own life, 
 
 And draw them in again from that fair land 
 
 (Where angels walk in their supernatural bliss) 
 
 Unto its own. Yea, 'tis a lovely world ! 
 
 A house not made with hands, where myriads 
 
 Of living creatures dwell in regal pride 
 
 And luxury — on zi'hat? On the chemic life 
 
 That feeds all worlds and pushes to its goal 
 
 Each incarnation, then withdraws its forces 
 
 To bask within the fountain of the gods, 
 
 And hold communion with the sweets of heaven. 
 
 That little leaf gives o'er its frail earth life, 
 
 While earth knows not the need of shade to fan 
 
 Her heated brow% and lingering lovers need 
 
 No trysting place to rest mid shady bowers, 
 
 Or garlands rare to twine around their brows. 
 
 But, lo ! in time this leaf will draw its own — 
 
 Its real self from the great fountain of life ; 
 
 For truly this shall be. Tho' logic stares 
 
 And reason stands aghast with wonder, yet 
 
 Nature is true to all her subtle works, 
 
 And holds each spirit cord true to its own. 
 
 The poison wasp with poison fills its fangs 
 
 From the elements, and stores it up for use ; 
 
 The ivy growing on the sunny slope 
 
 Beside the luscious grape, infects it not ; 
 
 The ivy sends its feelers out as far 
 
 As need may be for its malarial breath. 
 
 If this be true, cannot that little leaf 
 
 Be born again upon the self-same tree. 
 
 And draw its own unto itself again ? 
 
74 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Yea, nature holds her subdivisions true 
 To each and all her parts and particles. 
 The mills of the eternal gods grind slow, 
 But lo ! they grind exceeding small and fill 
 The smallest measure full and rounded up 
 With small, well-bolted grains of quickened life, 
 Whereby each world is filled with potent power 
 From its own fountain o'er and o'er again. 
 For six long months that little falling leaf 
 Has danced and swayed before the sun's bright 
 
 rays, 
 And labored, too, with mighty winds and storms 
 Upon its world, the tree, which holds in its grasp 
 A separate cup for each fair leaf to drink, 
 Filled from the fount of God's unfailing store. 
 Nothing is moved by chance. The same divi- 
 sions 
 That separate the household into parts 
 Are seen within the tree. And, lo ! within 
 The tiny leaf are many mansions, too, 
 Filled with embodiments of joyous life, 
 All reveling in their tiny gilded halls. 
 Of infinitismal worth in harmony. 
 But then what was there of that little world, 
 Or what can yet remain of it except 
 The subtle spirit cord that binds its life 
 Unto its kindred ties by the strong liand 
 Of heaven's omnipotence. To the careless glance 
 Tt only seems a falling lifeless thing. 
 Dead to all future ages yet to come , 
 Dead to all ages that are past and gone. 
 Dead to all other worlds, and, worst of all. 
 Dead to its own identity. And this 
 Is true of it as of all material forms. 
 When every form has run its cycle 'round, 
 TA adds its earthy atoms to the earth. 
 But lo ! its spirit is not dead, for spirits 
 
Gems of InspiratfOJi. 75 
 
 Die not. The spirit of that httle leaf 
 By angels' eyes can yet be seen upon 
 Its parent tree. Slowly but surely its spirit 
 Withdrew its forces from its earthly form, 
 And cast its matter to the soil again, 
 And hid itself from our material eyes 
 Within its own domains of spirit ties. 
 A man may have his arm crushed into atoms 
 And amputated by the surgeon's knife, 
 And yet the spirit arm is with him still. 
 He feels it hanging at his side, 'tis there, 
 And he will tell you so. And so the spirit 
 Of that little leaf still holds a real place 
 Within its own domains, a part and parcel 
 Of the unseen world by its own law, not seen 
 By mortal eyes, 'tis true, and yet 'tis tl-ere. 
 But some may say ''What if the tree should die? 
 What then ?" It cannot die. 'Tis very true 
 The wondrous tree can be from earth trans- 
 planted 
 To another clime of bright ethereal soil. 
 But nothing ever dies. Each thing imbued 
 With spirit life from God's own realms of light 
 Holds life in itself. The fibers of the tree 
 May fall and mingle with the earth's cold clod ; 
 But lo ! the spirit, which is the tree itself, 
 Was clasped within the atomic nebula 
 Of which the earth was formed by God's own 
 
 law, 
 When it evolved from nature's ample womb 
 And found its path obedient to itself 
 Among the grand sidereal hosts of orbs 
 Of God's unnumbered worlds of life and light. 
 
76 GcJiis of Inspiration, 
 
 WHEN I AAI GONE 
 
 When I am gone let only simple robes 
 
 Enclose my pulseless form. Place on my breast 
 
 A little spray of lilies of the valley, 
 
 Whose mute words witness, "Joy has come 
 
 again." 
 For now my soul stands free'd from worldly 
 
 strife. 
 Place in my withered hand a spray of pansies. 
 Beloved flowers of my childhood's day; 
 For like those humble flowers I have crept 
 At the feet of earth's more honored noble ones. 
 So heap no eulogies o'er my wasted form, 
 But simply say, "She's gone to her reward ; 
 So let her own works judge her in the gate." 
 
 LIFE LINES OF A LONE ONE. 
 
 For many weary years I labor'd on, 
 In agony of soul, yet with full trust ; 
 
 That (tho' I walked in anguish all alone) 
 
 All of earth's sorrows slumber with the dust. 
 
 At times a kindred spirit would come to me, 
 And bathe my troubled soul with heavenly 
 joy ; 
 He came in dreams when I from care was free, 
 And with my hopes and fears would gently 
 toy. 
 
 Yet only for a moment, tlien would go 
 
 And leave my love weltering in its own blood 
 
 And wondering if the angels of heaven can 
 know 
 How much of life is bad, how little good. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. yy 
 
 In youth he sought nie as his own loved one, 
 And yet we parted. And Oh, why did we 
 part? 
 
 We never had an unkind thought or w^ord, 
 But seemed hke one in body, soul and heart. 
 
 We did not drift apart, t'was I that drifted ; 
 
 He staid, a victim to that awful thief. 
 Consumption of the lungs, and soon was gone. 
 
 Oh, that word "gone" still wrecks my soul 
 with grief. 
 
 But now that I am old and deaf and gray. 
 He comes to me and takes me by the hand, 
 
 And speaks so gently of hope's glimmering ray, 
 And a happy home in that bright summer 
 land. 
 
 That as I look aloft toward our heavenly home, 
 My heart o'er flows with a contented love ; 
 
 And a rift in the cloud shows me his lovelv form, 
 As he walks along through heaven's flowery 
 grove. 
 
 So I live on, in sunshine or in shade, 
 
 And watch the glories of life's setting sun , 
 Which throws its g'orgeous beams o'er hill and 
 glade 
 Gilding the plains o'er which my life-paths 
 run 
 
 Until my soirit seems cl^th'-^"' in s'l^i^i'n'T '-obes 
 Woven from the ethereal light of t'^e summer 
 land, 
 Baptized in strains of music where each chord, 
 Blends with the heavenly choir, rich and 
 grand. 
 
78 Ccuis of Inspiration. 
 
 Oh, for the time when I can clasp thy hand, 
 And smooth with tender touch thy nohle brow, 
 
 And pillow my head upon thy faithful breast, 
 And gently smooth the locks by angels 
 fanned. 
 
 COME HOME ONCE MORE 
 
 Come home, Oh loved one, come home, come 
 home ! 
 
 Why linger so long mid the wild sea's foam ? 
 Our hearts are all aching, we tremble with fears, 
 
 Thy children are sad and thy wife is in tears ; 
 
 She has worship'd thine image, she's kissing it 
 
 now, 
 For she loves the light of thy broad noble brow ; 
 She prays for thy coming, but her prayers are 
 vain. 
 As they flow from her heart in a flood of pain. 
 
 We watch every sail as it comes in sight. 
 
 We watch when the stars come out at night ; 
 
 We w^atch when the dawn lights up the east. 
 We w^atch when the day sinks down to rest. 
 
 We watch when the sun shines bright at noon, 
 For thy coming as in the days that are gone ; 
 
 We w^atch when the day's hard toils are o'er. 
 But our watch is vain for thou comest no 
 more. 
 
 And in our dreams we are w^atching still, 
 But our w^atching is cold and wearied and chill. 
 
 And w^e almost sink beneath the smart 
 As we stagger along through the crowded 
 mart. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 79 
 
 AN ODE TO THE POET 
 
 Very few poets were ever born 
 
 With a crown of gold for their wee bald heads, 
 Or a golden spoon for their ample mouths, 
 
 Or a golden staff wherewith to tread 
 The youthful paths of luxurious days. 
 
 Or the roads which end in a stale old age. 
 Or a reckless course of the loiterer's ways. 
 
 Leaving little of worth on memory's page. 
 
 More like he was born in hovel cold 
 
 With nothing to crown his wee little head 
 But the glittering folds of a mother's love, 
 
 And an old tin cup for his milk and his bread, 
 And a three-legged stool set up on a chair 
 
 To raise him higher while his supper he eats, 
 And a little tin plate with alphabet where 
 
 The invincible "O" he often repeats. 
 
 We see him next near the garden wall. 
 
 Chewing his quid like the little gray hare ; 
 In his brown little fingers he grasps a ball ; 
 
 His pate is smutty and frousled his hair. 
 But in the depths of his soft blue eyes 
 
 Is a dreamy, sad and a far-a-away look. 
 As if he would fathom the depths of the skies 
 
 And unfold every leaf in God's ample book. 
 
 We see him again in his school-room days 
 
 Before his desk with his book open there, 
 While his eyes betray his sad, listless gaze, 
 
 For his genius is mounting the golden stair. 
 Where sits the muse of his coming years. 
 
 Wearing her veil of mystical light ; 
 But her eyes are running over with tears 
 
 Because of the battles the poet must fight. 
 
8o Gcius of Inspiration. 
 
 We see him next on his three-legged stool, 
 
 Up in the garret so barren and cold, 
 Courting the muse, poor fool, poor fool, 
 
 With never so much as a target of gold. 
 On an old pine box he has perched his muse 
 
 With never a thought of how or when 
 He can buy for himself his next pair of shoes, 
 
 As he sits and writes in his poet's den. 
 
 Here in the garret so dim and cold 
 
 The midnight oil burns low in the lamp, 
 And the wee small hours their pinions fold, 
 
 So he oulyhears his thoughts as they tramp 
 Thro' the dark iron palls of the mystical past, 
 
 Which his muse has unlocked with a modest 
 hand, 
 Where many bright truths are unveiled at last, 
 
 And newly embellished with colors grand. 
 
 The wars of the poet are many and long. 
 
 But are ever fought with a quicken d zeal, 
 Tho' the warriors march from afar in a throng 
 
 And often his last drops of blood congeal. 
 But he worries it through and dies at last 
 
 Very much as another poor man dies, 
 Unmourn'd and forgotten, but the lines he has 
 cast 
 
 W^ill tear the scales from many blear'd eyes. 
 
 And will tear the sorrows from many a soul 
 
 And the harden'd heart from many a breast, 
 And unlock the chest or some miser cold, 
 
 And give to some wayfaring spirit rest. 
 So thus the poet his promise redeems 
 
 That he made long a9-o in 'is boyhood of yore, 
 That of the wealth which h s anh. od gleans 
 
 He will at his death bequeath to t'le poor. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 8i 
 
 DUAL LOVE IS DUAL LIFE 
 
 Our love is all too sacred 
 
 For the gaze of the worldly and vain. 
 It is deep as the depths of the ocean, 
 
 And as high as the star-lit plain. 
 It ever grows brighter and brighter, 
 
 And its glory is never o'ercast 
 E'en with cares that are almost as endless 
 
 As the fires in Vulcan's blast. 
 
 Which would crucify always and ever 
 
 The claims of a passional love. 
 Till the hair turns thin and faded and gray, 
 
 The brow furrow'd with many a groove, 
 And the cheeks grow sunken and pallid, 
 
 And the lips lose their scarlet dye. 
 And the weary lids close heavily down 
 
 O'er the sunken and tear-dim 'd eye. 
 
 And the hands grow palsied and weary, 
 
 And the steps grow faltering and slow, 
 And the heart with agony is rent, 
 
 While the pulses beat faint and low. 
 Is this the love God has given. 
 
 Which leaves Cain's mark on the brow. 
 When two souls apart are driven 
 
 As to custom's plot we bow ? 
 
 True spirit love will find its mate, 
 
 Tho' miles and years may drift between, 
 'Twill find its love or soon or late. 
 
 Then think what is and what might have been. 
 No matter how long life's web may be. 
 
 It holds the two as one in twain ; 
 The eye of love will sometime see 
 
 Its own deep love come back again. 
 
82 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 No matter how long life's web may be, 
 
 The shuttle of thought will ever fly 
 Between two trusting kindred souls, 
 
 Who never will love's trust belie, 
 And each grand cherish'd thought shall be 
 
 A stepping-stone to the bright beyond, 
 Where pure love lives on eternally 
 
 \\' ith God's own glory forever crowned. 
 
 I AM DREAMING 
 
 I am dreaming, fondly dreaming 
 
 Of the days not long since gone, 
 When your blue eyes softly beaming, 
 
 Sought my soul so sad and lone , 
 And your spirit kindly whispered 
 
 To my spirit's listening ears, 
 Of the home where not a secret 
 
 Shall be shrouded with dark fears. 
 
 I am dreaming, sweetly dreaming. 
 
 That my hand in thine is pressed. 
 And my spirit is in seeming 
 
 Fondly folded to thy breast. 
 Joy sweeps o'er me like a rhythm 
 
 Floating in from youth's bright plains, 
 Tho' the silent chords are stronger 
 
 Welded by earth's crucial pains. 
 
 I am dreaming, only dreaming 
 
 Of elysian joys to come. 
 Till I, weary of this seeming. 
 
 Wish thy hand might lead me home. 
 Yes, Fm dreaming, sweetly dreaming 
 
 Of the joy that's past and gone. 
 While lips with lips in love were meeting, 
 
 And two fond spirits meet as one. 
 
'Gems o'l Inspiratmc,, 83 
 
 I am waiting, fondly waiting, 
 
 While in thought 'I'm with thee still, 
 While two loving hearts are beating 
 
 With one calm celestial thrill. 
 Yes, I'm waiting, waiting, waiting, 
 
 To prove the truth of spirit-love, 
 Which is the weary soul's true anchor, 
 
 Held in endless Godlike love. 
 
 I am thinking of our parting. 
 
 And the promise that you made 
 'Neath the stars in silence marching 
 
 O'er the hopes their light betrayed ; 
 But I linger in the starlight. 
 
 Where the subtle dream is sweet. 
 And I knov/ that somewhere, sometime 
 
 All earth's kindred spirits meet. 
 So I'm resting in the gloaming, 
 
 For patience is true spirit love. 
 While passion's bleeding heart is moaning 
 
 If in separate paths they move. 
 
 True spirit love is never parted, 
 
 Though miles and oceans roll between. 
 Two living souls by God united 
 
 Dwell in bowers of living green. 
 So we'll live in happy silence, 
 
 Every thought so truly blended 
 That it seems a heavenly cadence 
 
 By angelic music tended. 
 
 Though our hair is streaked witli silver. 
 
 And our eyes are growing dim. 
 Yet spirit love will sweetly quiver 
 
 When freed from worldly scorn and sin. 
 We are waiting, calmly waiting 
 
 For that change the world calls death. 
 When our spirits will on waking 
 
 Find a vouthful jovous birth. 
 
84 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Where our souls are so inwoven 
 
 By correspondence into one 
 That we are a part of heaven 
 
 As we lead each other on 
 O'er the plains of chang-ing beauties, 
 
 And thro' valleys bright and green, 
 Where the hilltops glow with reason. 
 
 And things are really what they seem. 
 
 TO MY BROTHER 
 
 Search well among the husks for life's true bread, 
 Which never wastes the body or the soul. 
 
 You will not find the Christ among the dead, 
 Nor will you find true strength upon the role 
 
 Of mortal life where spirit is dethroned, 
 
 Or where the spirit is not wholly plumed. 
 
 Avaunt, thou love that can be bought or sold ! 
 
 Thou art but a shadow of the finer part — 
 A dross extracted from the purest gold — 
 
 A faded flower from a soulless heart. 
 But, oh, the sordid world knows not the joy 
 That toys with love unmixed with earth's alloy. , 
 
 We may not meet again upon this earth. 
 
 But we shall meet on a higher, lovelier plain, 
 Where the immortal mind shall find no dearth. 
 
 And where can come no thought of mortal 
 blame. 
 Where the chalice of the gods is ever full, 
 And ever flows to fill the needs of all, 
 
Geuis of Inspiration. 85 
 
 And when the gentle touch of angel hands 
 Shall brush the wrinkles from our faded brows, 
 
 And lust lies dying on earth's blushing sand. 
 Where Cupid's shaft flies from his glittering 
 bow, 
 
 Piercing each soul with heavenly love divine. 
 
 Which flows anew^ with Raphael's healing wine, 
 
 When we all see the symmetry of soul, 
 So grossly encumbered with the house of clay, 
 
 Tho' each soul yearns to reach that spirit goal, 
 At touch of hands as each speeds on its way 
 
 Of quickened life where true love wears no 
 chains, 
 
 But each responds with love to life's own claims. 
 
 THE BROKEN LOVEKNOT 
 
 Tis past, and the love-tinted lines of the sky, 
 Of the beautiful past and the veiled by and by, 
 
 Are hiding their secrets of how and why 
 The strands in our love-knot were broken. 
 
 Yet every fibre seems broken in twain. 
 And I fear they can never be twined again, 
 
 For the end of each strand lies writhing in pain. 
 So torn by the waves of contention. 
 
 But, perchance, a new loveknot will sometime be 
 wove. 
 
 Wherein every strand with new life will move, 
 And each pulsied fiber will pulsate with love, 
 
 As each touches the hand of the other. 
 
 If so, may the angels baptize them again 
 
 In the chalice wherein there is no selfish pain, 
 
 Which we both have felt again and again, 
 Since the Hnks in our loveknot were broken 
 
86 Gents of Inspiration. 
 
 THE DYING APPEAL OF THE DRUNK- 
 ARD'S CHILD 
 
 Ob. father, don't go to the grogshop to-day. 
 
 For now you must know that I'm dying. 
 So fold me softly in your arms while I pray 
 
 For you. Father, oh, why are you crying? 
 
 ]\Iy father, will you take these flowers from me? 
 
 They're all I can give in remembrance to you. 
 Press them closely in that book there, you see — 
 
 The one mamma gave me, with covers so blue. 
 
 And now, my dear father, when I am gone 
 To live with God and the angels up there, 
 
 Stay with my mother, for she'll be all alone, 
 \Y\\\\ no one to kneel with her at prayer. 
 
 Father, when you think of the grogshop again. 
 Get the flowers I give you to-day so free. 
 
 Remember, they were lain on my breast of pain 
 By my mother, who did all she could for me. 
 
 OH, MOURN NOT FOR HER 
 
 (Suggested by the death of Mrs. Mary A. Carr, 
 of Sturgis. Mich.) 
 
 Oh, mourn not for her whom the veil of the tomb 
 
 In her autumn of livinc:' has hid from our eyes. 
 
 For her spirit enfranchised hath mounted in 
 
 bloom. 
 
 Released from earth's thraldom to dwell in the 
 
 skies. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 87 
 
 P>om a life that was beautiful, calm and serene, 
 She hath passed to existence above and be- 
 yond, 
 Where no mists of mortality now intervene. 
 And her soul can to heavenly pleasures re- 
 spond. 
 
 So patient, so kind and so trusted by all, 
 
 She lived in a sphere of contentment and love ; 
 And ever responsive to sympathy's call, 
 
 Her acts like sweet incense ascended above. 
 And when the pale boatman, with shadowy hand. 
 
 Approached our companion to ferry her o'er. 
 Without a murmur or protest she obeyed the 
 command. 
 
 While regretting the loved ones she left on the 
 shore. 
 
 Tho' the form so much loved hath been lain to 
 its rest. 
 And the voice that once thrilled us no longer 
 we hear, 
 Tho' that true loving heart no more throbs in her 
 breast. 
 And we mourn her departure with sorrowmg 
 tear. 
 Still we know that the wings of her soul are un- 
 furled. 
 Unfettered bv earth, or by cumbersome clay , 
 And a spirit immortal she dwells in a world 
 Where there's sunshine and joy and continual 
 day. 
 
 And we know she will come on the wings of her 
 
 love. 
 Where still the known of her earth life remams, 
 Like the rays of the sunshine that comes from 
 
 above, 
 
88 Gems of Jiispiratioii. 
 
 Or the clews that fall gently o'er valley and 
 plains. 
 Will her spirit impart of its beauty and cheer 
 To those who now mourn in this valley of 
 tears. 
 For her soul life untrammeled will visit us here, 
 To soothe and to comfort through vanishing 
 years. 
 Then mourn not for her we have known but to 
 love — 
 The gentle-voiced mother, companion and 
 friend. 
 All her beautiful gifts were but lent from above, 
 And the days of her earth-trust were brought 
 to an end. 
 It were best she should leave us, while buoyant 
 and high. 
 Her spirit responded to forces unseen, 
 When her visions were blending of earth and of 
 sky, 
 And the veil had been partially lifted between. 
 
 Oct. i8, 1891. — A. T. Lamphere. 
 
 I AM WITH THEE STILL 
 
 I come to thee, mother, on pinions bright. 
 When the east is glowing with rosy light : 
 When thy soul is burdened with sorrow and care, 
 Thy sorrows and griefs ever hold me near. 
 
 I wipe the tears from thy loving eyes. 
 And, oh, dear mother, if thou couldst rise 
 To the loved abode of thy child so fair. 
 And angel band that is with me there. 
 
Gems of Inspiration.- 89 
 
 Then looking down on the shining- road 
 That leads from earth to the saints' abode, 
 If thou couldst see in the thorny vale 
 The path marked out for mv feet so frail. 
 
 Thou wouldst bless the hand that led me awav 
 To the realms of light and endless da}- ; 
 Thou wouldst bless the angels that stood by me 
 In the days of my weary infancy. 
 
 And now, dear mother, dry all those tears. 
 For thou'lt meet me again in the coming years, 
 When thy sun sinks low in the glowing west 
 Thou'lt clasp me again to thy loving breast. 
 
 A VISION 
 
 The veil is lifted, and we see a cloud 
 Rolling its fleecy folds across the sky ; 
 
 And at is nearer comes it wears a shroud 
 Of burnished silver, so dazzling to the eye. 
 
 We call for the veil to shield us from the light. 
 
 The cloud is rent and thro' the mist, behold ! 
 
 Three lovely faces clothed in beams of love — ■ 
 Three beauteous forms enwrapped in mvstic 
 folds 
 
 Of heavenly light fresh from the fount above. 
 Waving its sheen across the ethereal dome, 
 Lisrhtning for us with each successive view 
 
 Such lovely scenes of spirit fruits and flowers, 
 We scarcely can believe or think them true, 
 
 Or dare to hope that we shall walk those 
 bowers, 
 Or list the strains their harmonies attune. 
 
90 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 So trusting, scarce convinced, we linger still; 
 
 Upon the surging waves of time we ride, 
 While wondering if life's chalice we will fill 
 
 \\^ith gems to deck the brow of the spirit biide 
 Mete for the heavenly host to look upon. 
 
 AN INSPIRATION 
 
 From the spirit of Lord Byron to his chosen me- 
 dium, written through the organism of M. M. 
 Sisco. 
 
 My sister, I stand by your side to-night, 
 And I place on your brow a crown of light ; 
 'Tis blazoned with gold and beautiful gems 
 And costly pearls from diadems. 
 
 And over your shoulders I gently fold 
 
 A purple mantle all spangled with gold ; 
 
 And I fasten it there with the breast plate of 
 
 truth, 
 All framed in joys as lovely as youth. 
 
 And over your head I hold a sword. 
 'Tis red with the blood of brides young and fair. 
 Beware, lest it drip on your crown of gold, 
 And soil the folds of your mantle rare. 
 
 My pen I place in your strong right hand. 
 'Tis wet with the blood of martyred love. 
 My inkstand the hearts of vicious men. 
 Made pure by the good that is poured from 
 above. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 91 
 
 And in your left hand I place a palm. 
 Hold it aloft as you bend to the storm. 
 'Tis the Jewish token of victories won. 
 May it be your staff when you're weary and 
 worn. 
 
 Before you is flowing a river of blood. 
 It flows from the hearts of all that have fled. 
 Mixed well, I ween, by the deeds of all — 
 The good and the bad of the countless dead. 
 
 Beside this river is a cross for you. 
 'Tis rough and heavy and hard to be borne ; 
 And the path you must tread is full of thorns, 
 That will pierce your feet now already torn. 
 
 But look across to the other shore. 
 There Byron stands and beckons to you. 
 Then reaches across this river of blood. 
 And takes your hand and leads you thro'. 
 
 And when you have seen the other side. 
 He will tear the crown from your noble brow, 
 And give you instead a laurel wreath 
 To show to the world what you are now. 
 
 And now, my friend, I've shown all to you — 
 The crown, the pen and the river of blood, 
 The cross, the palm, the steel that is true, 
 The stormy w^ay and the royal robe. 
 
 Then take the pen and wield It w^ell. 
 Show to the world its woes and Its needs ; 
 Show them there Is a heaven and hell. 
 But the hell comes whollv from their creeds. 
 
i)2 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 RAISED IT 
 
 Smooth back the hair from the cold marble brow, 
 Press the lids gently o'er the blue eyes, 
 
 Fold the hands quietly o'er the breast now. 
 Where once beat a heart more loving than 
 wise. 
 
 No more will those lips sing the songs of t;ie 
 past; 
 No more will those hands bathe your feverish 
 brow; 
 No more will you pillow your head on her 
 breast ; 
 No more will her soui breathe affection's warm 
 vow. 
 
 She had friends on earth and she'll find them in 
 heaven. 
 Where she has gone with a soul pure and free , 
 And where she will stand when the bright tints of 
 even 
 Shall wave their pink hues o'er the land and 
 the sea. 
 
 And as she stands there, 'neath heaven's blue 
 dome. 
 Or soars on the mists of the mornini;- so fair. 
 She cares naught for the scandals of her earthly 
 home, 
 Or the inhuman curses that were heaped on 
 her here. 
 
 Her soul stands to-day in the home of the blest, 
 ]\Iore lovely than when in the casket of time. 
 
 More happy than when she bared her fair breast 
 To the fierv toneues of the churclies divine. 
 
Gcuis of Jiispiratioji. 93 
 
 And as she's led on by the angel of peace, 
 
 She walks in the truth of her own innate life, 
 
 Happy in knowing her soul's found relief 
 
 From the fetters that bound to malice and 
 strife. 
 
 GONE 
 
 I stood on the quay with tearful eyes, 
 
 As the vessel went down to sea, 
 Bearing her freight of human souls 
 
 From her native land and me. 
 
 My mother's tired and weary feet 
 Were pacing the old vessel's deck ; 
 
 She has pressed her last kiss upon my cheek. 
 And will never again come back. 
 
 I have shaken her hand for the last, last time, 
 
 As I kissed her wrinkled but lovely face. 
 I have pressed the form I loved to mine 
 In a last, sad, loving embrace. 
 
 I pillowed my head once more on the breast 
 That was filled with my joys and my cares, 
 
 And I felt for the moment that I was blest 
 Again with my childhood years. 
 
 But the cruel fate that must come to all 
 
 Has broken the beautiful spell, 
 And a mother's tender and loving heart 
 
 Has taken its last farewell. 
 
 And my father is standing by her side. 
 With an earnest and manly grace ; 
 
 And the tears that some wouVl seek to hide 
 Are streaming down his face. 
 
94 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 For he, too. lias taken his last farewell 
 Of tender and loving danghters and sons : 
 
 And he said, "May God's blessing ever dwell 
 Upon all of my darling ones." 
 
 A brother, too, has gone with them 
 To that bright and beautiful clime 
 
 Where the chill winds of winter never come, 
 And the sunshine is laden with glories divine. 
 
 Oh, the woes that vessel bears out to sea 
 
 May never be felt or known to all. 
 The woes she has left on the stranded lea 
 
 Fall on the soul like a funeral pall. 
 
 But she speeds as gaily over the main 
 As tho' no tears had ever been shed, 
 
 As tho' she w^ere to return again 
 
 'Ere the sun lies down on his golden bed. 
 
 But there ! the vessel is out of sight. 
 
 And I must return to my toils and my cares. 
 
 I must bury my sorrow^s out of sight. 
 And labor on for many long years. 
 
 But this same vessel will come again. 
 
 And bear me ofif to that beautiful shore 
 Where never can come a heartache or pain. 
 
 And the parting of friends shall be known no 
 more. 
 
Cans of Iusf>ivatiou. 95 
 
 THE THREE LETTERS 
 
 I see a ship in the offing, 
 
 That comes from my own native land. 
 Its sails hang lazily flapping, 
 
 By the listless breezes fanned. 
 
 Blow, blow, ye winds from my own native clime. 
 And hasten the beautiful ship along, 
 
 For it breaths a rich fragrance of orange and lime 
 From the tropical region borne. 
 
 Oh, my spirit pines for its sunny home, 
 
 With its orange groves so bright and blest. 
 
 I pine for the songs my mother sang, 
 As she pillowed my head on her breast. 
 
 I pine for the gentle touch of the hand 
 That used to caress my golden hair 
 
 'Ere I bid farewell to my fatherland, 
 With its vineclad bowers so rare. 
 
 A stranger I am in a strange, strange land ; 
 
 I touch not the hand of kith or kin. 
 But, lo ! the vessel is on the strand. 
 
 Oh, does she bring one word from him? 
 
 Well, here are letters — one, two, three. 
 
 Whom are they from, I should like to know? 
 This one is trimmed in black, I see. 
 
 Some one is dead — I wonder who? 
 
 The writing is strange — who can it be ? 
 
 Well, ril open this first and then I'll know 
 Who it is that has gone to eternity. 
 
 Who can it be, T would like to know? 
 
96 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Oh, my own sweet darling- mother! 
 
 Is it thy voice that is stilled in death ? 
 Is it thy hands that are quietly folded ? 
 
 Is it thy soul has fled from the earth ? 
 
 To-day, when I saw that ship come in, 
 My heart beat wild with hopes and fears ; 
 
 But I little thought of the woe it would bring — 
 That one letter, at least, would be blotted with 
 tears. 
 
 But, hark ! I hear my mother's voice. 
 
 She says, my child, I am with thee stil. 
 I have come in spirit — it was my choice — 
 
 Let no sad moan thy bosom fill. 
 
 And I feel the touch of her loving hand 
 As she passes it gently over my brow. 
 
 I feel a breath from the summerland 
 Come stealing over my heartache now. 
 
 And she bears on her spirit a soothing balm, 
 Which encircles my soul like a mystical band ; 
 
 And I feel that my spirit is growing calm, 
 As my brow by her breath is fanned. 
 
 Here are two more letters still to be read — 
 One from a fond and loving brother — 
 
 The other I'll save until the last. 
 
 Because it comes from my own true lover. 
 
 Well, if in the midst of life there is death. 
 Beside the dead still, still there is life. 
 
 For while we grieve o'er a mother's death, 
 We rejoice in a sweet baby's life. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 97 
 
 And so in our cup of life is mixed 
 Joy with sorrow and sorrow with joy, 
 
 For while me grieve o'er a mother's death, 
 We joy in the birth of a beautiful boy. 
 
 Well, here is his letter, the last of the three, 
 Fresh from the hand of him I love ; 
 
 Fresh from his home near the beautiful sea. 
 Written, perhaps, in his orange grove. 
 
 With a trembling hand I break the seal ; 
 
 A fear comes over my heart, sad and lone, 
 Which never before in woe or weal 
 
 Came with a script from my own loved one. 
 
 What ails me ? Why do I tremble so ? 
 
 I have a foreboding that all is not right. 
 I'll read it now and then Fll know. 
 
 Oh, how little my lover did write ! 
 
 Oh, God, bear me up in this anguish wild ! 
 
 Pour on my heart the spirit of prayer. 
 Oh, mother, take the hand of your child, 
 
 And bathe my cheek and brow so fair. 
 
 Oh, press me close to your loving breast. 
 Till you have imparted some strength to me. 
 Breathe into my soul a spirit of trust, 
 And faith and hope and charity. 
 
 Oh, mother, no wonder you took your flighty 
 That you might stand by the side of me 
 
 In this my darkest earthly night, 
 Which can only end in eternity ! 
 
 In the unselfish love you felt for me. 
 You bid farewell to earth's sunny bowers; 
 
 You left all others to stand by me 
 
 While my spirit wept over faded flowers. 
 
98 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 And now, clear mother, do lead me away. 
 
 Help me to break all earth's glittering chains. 
 May my love ever cling still closer to thee, 
 
 As we walk over higher and holier plains. 
 
 Alas ! what are books or friends to me ; 
 
 They hang on my soul like a leaden weight, 
 Since to-day he has taught a lessen to me. 
 
 The anguish of which I shall never forget. 
 
 But mother, I feel the chords of thy love 
 Are drawing me on toward the spirit land, 
 
 To the bowers where white-robed spirits rove, 
 And tune their harps to symphonies grand. 
 
 CHILDHOOD 
 
 Oh, childhood, how I love thy glittering crown, 
 That fits so deftly on thy fair young brow — 
 A diadem that any king might covet, 
 Well set with gems of love unspeakable. 
 Inlaid with truth and hope and joy untold. 
 Save by the liquid brightness of thine eyes, 
 Filled to the brim with oracles of thought. 
 And philosophic words drop from thy lips — 
 Words that the gods might lend an ear to hear. 
 Floating far out to where the angels stand, 
 Who hold the keynote to thy rippling laugh ; 
 That laugh, as light as air, it seems to be. 
 And yet 'tis as the sea, immeasurable ; 
 For it holds within its circling depths a workl 
 Of love and truth and hope and light and joy. 
 I love the little touch of thy soft hand, 
 As it gently strokes my aged, furrowed brow, 
 Until the sins of life seem half absolved. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 99 
 
 I love the kiss that drops as soft as dew 
 
 Upon my faded cheek and faded Hps, 
 
 As rays of setting sun drop down to earth. 
 
 Or as the sweetest honey from the comb. 
 
 And above all I love thy reasoning. 
 
 For surely thou art a philosopher ; 
 
 And the learned bookworm with his threescore 
 
 years 
 Might sit low at thy feet and learn of thee 
 God's mighty truths from an untutored mind, 
 Might reap a harvest full of golden sheaves 
 From nature's crude, spontaneous reasoning 
 That falls unnoticed from thy childish lips. 
 Ah, yes, thy little natural head is filled 
 With fundamental truths invincible 
 To wisdom's classic lore. And yet, ah, me! 
 Fate guides thy little feet and leads thee on 
 To custom's fatal marts and fashion's throng, 
 And soon dame nature's wares are sold for lies, 
 Thy pennies spent for some cosmetic taint. 
 Thus fashion's noxious floodgates are unbarred, 
 And you walk in. Oh, would to God 
 That nature might be strong and stronger still 
 To guide thy baby feet in ways of truth. 
 And hold her native charms in thy young heart. 
 But, ah, it cannot be ; she steps aside 
 And veils her face in grief, for well she knows 
 That custom frowns on all that she might do 
 To save thy happiness, while truth is sold 
 For fashion's airs and fabricated lies. 
 Oh, would to God that thou mightst ever be 
 As undefiled in heart and soul as now. 
 And wear thy crown with this same childish joy 
 Which nature placed upon thy fair young brow. 
 Untidy may be, yet unselfish, too — 
 Unselfish as the sun that sheds its light 
 Upon thy frously head or smutty h.and ; 
 
lOO Ccnis of I ns/^i ration. 
 
 Unselfish as the winds that fan thy cheek, 
 Or as the silvery waves that lave thy feet. 
 Free as the eagle that spans the lakelet's breast 
 With one fell swoop, and buoyant as the roe 
 That leaps the hedgerow of the forest glen. 
 As happy as the lark among the clouds, 
 And innocult as the lamb that skips the lea. 
 Oh, would to God that this might always be. 
 
 CELESTIAL CHOIRS 
 By A. J. Swarts, Ph. D. 
 
 Hark! I hear celestial music 
 
 Floating near in strains sublime. 
 
 Lo, the angelic hosts approaching 
 With sweet anthems for each clime. 
 
 Now these chords of earnest beauty 
 Wake anew swxet thoughts of heaven 
 
 Drawing souls to meet again. 
 
 List ! the sweet returning carols, 
 
 Rising upward from all climes ; 
 Now^ behold the loved ones yonder, 
 
 Listening to our earthly chimes. 
 Do I see among those angels 
 
 One who filled our home with light? 
 Can that star of brightest splendor 
 
 Be the one that's veiled in night. 
 
 Now give ear to heavenly answers 
 
 From the music of the spheres. 
 Yes. dear friends of clouded earth life, 
 
 Through our joys we sec your tears. 
 We are near, yes near you daily, 
 
 Drawing you to homes on high. 
 All your earthly cares and conflicts 
 
 Mean our meetincr bv and bv. 
 
Gems of liispiraiioH. loi 
 
 Oh, my angel one, my guardian, 
 
 May I hope to know yoii there ? 
 Is it you 1 hear in whispers 
 
 When I breathe your name in prayer? 
 Then I'll wait and cease all murmuring, 
 
 Watching ere the spangled dawn 
 You're my loving guardian angel. 
 
 Sent of God to guide me home. 
 
 WITHERED LEAXES 
 
 Oh, oh, those withered leaves, how sad they look, 
 As they come whirling from their lofty heights, 
 Where late they crowned the monarch of the 
 
 wood. 
 All faded now and sear, they fall to earth 
 One lifeless, moaning mass. And yet their mis- 
 sion 
 Is only half fulfilled, their work half done, 
 Eor they must form a covering to protect 
 The latent powers of winter's quivering pulse 
 Buried beneath the tramp of human feet 
 And groaning 'neath the bright electric throb 
 Of human joys. But, lo, those dormant throes 
 And all those slumbering ties are not as yet 
 Unto the death of nature's triune God, 
 But to the' life of each potential germ 
 That sleeps beneath those warm but lifeless 
 
 leaves, 
 And chimes unto the steps of moaning spheres. 
 And pulsates to time's ever rolling waves. 
 E'en to the heart throbs of the Great I Am, 
 Where it is used by the eternal spheres. 
 And subsidized by heaven's prolific light 
 Into the voice of Inid, and bloom, and leaf. 
 
102 
 
 Gcuis of Inspiration. 
 
 \Vhich rises through dead leaves and reaches 
 Forth along- the lines of many potent laws, 
 ^And is received with joy immaculate, 
 Baptised in heaven's consecrated fount. 
 And handed back unto its lofty height 
 To crown once more the forest as its queen, 
 And thunder forth its living power again. 
 
 DOG DAYS 
 
 Oh, Canis ]\Iajor, slacken now thy speed, 
 
 Pity thy fallen jaw% thy lolling tongue. 
 
 Stop once that mad careering pace of thine, 
 
 Till burning Sirius send a cooler light 
 
 Unto the parched and crackling breast of earth. 
 
 But if thou hast no mercy on thyself, 
 
 Or on thy raving kindred here on earth. 
 
 At least have mercy on the human race, 
 
 The thirsty, lowing kine, the horse, the sheep, 
 
 The melting swine, the curling, w^ithering corn. 
 
 And pulseless vegetation everywhere. 
 
 And thou great Leo Major, bride of Pluto, 
 
 Bearing upon thine ample raging breast 
 
 The mighty Regulus, with burning light. 
 
 Hast thou no mercy on the human race? 
 
 With pulses beating in such feverish heat, 
 
 The very blood seems boiling in the vein. 
 
 Sending foul odors to the seething brain. 
 
 While every fiber quakes with agonv, 
 
 And phantoms of delirium hold high carnival. 
 
 Still keeping step to quick, discordant tunes. 
 
 Played on the nerves by fever's orchestra. 
 
 Oh, dog days, do give o'er thy fetid reign 
 To Spica as an outcome of thy fetted reign ; 
 
Cciiis of Inspiration. 103 
 
 And throiii^li fair Virgo's hand send us refresh- 
 ment. 
 And thus assuage at once this burning grief, 
 And resurrect the essence of all life 
 Into a healthy, throbbing pulse once more. 
 
 LINES TO FATHER CHINIOUIE 
 
 Immortal soul, 
 And dost thou dare to stand above the heights 
 Of Romish power and bare thy noble breast 
 To catch the sparks from inquisition's torch. 
 Or a stalking shot from a Roman catapult, 
 And wave the blood-stained flag of liberty 
 Above the bones of freedom's slaughtering hosts., 
 As a mediator betw^een heaven and hell, 
 And there unfurl the powers of freedom's love, 
 And the heavenly light of ages yet to come, 
 Whose voice is mightier than the Roman power, 
 And holy as the virgin Mary's son, 
 Whose sword is truth, whose shield is equity ; 
 Whose banner is the whoof ot human rights. 
 Whose armor is peace on earth, good w^ill to 
 men. 
 
 Go on thy way, brave soul, and falter not ; 
 Drink deep. The gods are holdino; to thy lips 
 Their chalice filled with radiant astral light 
 For you to pour upon the drowsy world, 
 As did the Nazarene pour out his blood 
 To save the world from Roman tyranny. 
 Old Judah's lion, true emblem of the pope, 
 And from the Jesuit's sacred bloody cross. 
 Another emblem of their bloody deeds. 
 
I04 Ccnis of Inspiration. 
 
 But arc we saved from Judah's lion cubs, 
 Or from the brazen serpent of the past, . 
 Or from the mitred Romans of to-day, 
 
 If we succumb? 
 
 Tis but a step from papal's tower of o-old 
 To freedom's lofty heights of sacred truth ; 
 And many stand with heads uncovered there, 
 And you among the rest. Go on. brave soul, 
 Thy wings shall carry thee beyond the Pope — 
 Beyond the creedal lines of doting sain.ts — 
 Beyond the lion's claws, the serpent's fangs, 
 To the arched gateway of the Great I Am. 
 Angels will meet thee with thy well-earned 
 
 crown 
 Of purest gold of manhood's noble worth, 
 And place it on thy never-fading brow 
 With loving hands, saying to thee, "Well done, 
 Thou faithful one. thou servant of the light, 
 Well done, well done. WELL DONE." 
 
 THE SELFISH MOTHER 
 
 My darling boy, 
 W^ould I could come to you indeed. 
 As I can come in midnights svv'cetest dreams. 
 Last night I saw you at your childish play. 
 As in the days gone by. And in that dream 
 I saw your fair young brow and saddened eyes. 
 Shaded with childish care. , And as in pity 
 I smoothed your sunny locks and troubled brow 
 I drew once more thy little form to mine 
 In one long sweet embrace. Once more I i)il- 
 lowed 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 105 
 
 Thy childish head upon my aching breast ; 
 Once more a loving mother's kiss was pressed 
 Upon thy troubled, lonely little brow, 
 That breathed a love untold. 
 
 In that sweet dream I did almost forget 
 That in the absence of a mother's care, 
 The years that roll their everlasting rounds 
 Had brought you up almost to manhood's door. 
 A selfish mother it was that could not give 
 Her life a living sacrifice for one 
 So young as was my precious Ernest boy. 
 When like the tendrils of the summer vine, 
 His joys and sorrows did reach out to twine 
 Around a mother's heart as doth the vine 
 Cling to the oak. But soon we'll meet again. 
 If God permit, and then I'll surely try 
 With a twofold power of sacred mother love 
 To recompense a mother's past misdeeds 
 And seeming lack of all maternal love. 
 
 The past is past and cannot be redeemed ; 
 But when a mother's love, which seemeth v/eak. 
 Is steeped in deep and heartfelt penitence, 
 'Tis doubly strong and ever will be true. 
 
 WHAT IS TIME? 
 
 What do the surging waters of the sea 
 Know of or care for time or eternity. 
 As long as they are free to love the beach 
 Baptizing everv land-mark they can reach? 
 Eo, what is time unto the finny tribe 
 As long as they in freedom cleave the tide. 
 Holding high carnival within their ports. 
 
io6 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Or dancing to the time of flitting sports ? 
 And what is time unto the bird that flies 
 Along the rosy tints of morning skies, 
 Or sings at eve mid blooming gardens rare, 
 Or cuts the ether foam of mountain air? 
 What care the lofty mountains towering high 
 For time as they still bask in azure sky, 
 And spread their gorgeous robes to catch the dew 
 That ever falls from heaven's wealth of blue ? 
 And what is time unto the waving trees 
 That have for centuries bow'd to catch the breeze, 
 Or sung a requiem low unto the tide 
 As nature chants unto a lovely bride ? 
 And what, I ask, are days or months or years. 
 Unto the everlasting moving spheres, 
 As they roll on thro' waves of matchless light 
 To kiss the brows of other worlds so bright ? 
 And as each system glides thro' endless space. 
 Holding each world within its wonted place, 
 What are a thousand years to them as they 
 Still gather light to lead them on their way? 
 And what is time unto the milky way, 
 As each world holds some bright electric ray 
 Which, by its light and power it ever draws 
 From other worlds by the almighty laws 
 Of time, which is infinitude itself. 
 And ne'er was born a sickly little elf. 
 And ne'er will die burdened with weary age 
 Witli name unwrit upon God's starry page? 
 And what is man more than the starry spheres 
 That he should mark his time by days and years? 
 And are we sure that worlds have not their days 
 As well as nights wrapped in a mystic haze. 
 As doth our sun the peerless king of light 
 Wrap his fair pinions round our earth so bright? 
 And is there naught but man in boundless space 
 That marks its life bv years and months and 
 dav? 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 107 
 
 Would man if he were yet in Eden's bowers, 
 Feasting his soul upon Hfe's perfect flowers — 
 Would he, I ask, take note of endless time, 
 Or would he drift in heavenly joys sublime, 
 Thro' an unending vast eternity 
 That fills the labyrinth of divinity? 
 For lo ! there was a time in ages gone 
 When man stood on the mount of holiness, 
 And like the little child that runs along. 
 His natural road to love and happiness. 
 Now dancing after gaudy butterflies, 
 Now running down the hill by gurgling brook, 
 Now w^atching kite as o'er the trees it flies, 
 Now seeking out some green and shady nook 
 In which to stop and rest. So 'twas with man 
 When in the natural action of his soul 
 He sought communion deep with other worlds. 
 And took no note of time, but sought the goal 
 To hold high carnival with nature's gods 
 That sway the realms of everlasting light 
 And hold each orb within its wonted place 
 While it rejoices in its power and might. 
 And the great plan it wears with lovely grace 
 In the full harmony of heavenly law\ 
 But time moves on and in its speedv flight 
 It spreads a darkness o'er our mother earth ; 
 Her brow is wet with the dews of her own night 
 As she sways and gropes her way along her path. 
 For lo, she's bound by chains of iron strength 
 Which other worlds must come to help her break 
 Ere she can rise, for she's yet a child in strength 
 And has only seen a day or two at most 
 Since she became the mother of mankind, 
 And must withdraw from other sister hosts 
 To bide the eternal laws of God's great plan 
 And seek her couch to lay her down to rest. 
 As doth the little child when tired of play ; 
 
io8 Gcuis of Inspiration. 
 
 But soon she will awake to life again 
 To bask in the glories of her own bright day. 
 And as she's hurled thro' realms of endless space 
 She gathers strength from all her brother spheres, 
 Baptizing all about her with the grace 
 She's gleaned from those ahead of her in years. 
 And as she gathers light from other worlds 
 She hands it down to mitigate man's woes, • 
 Gaining in strength, but losing naught of worth 
 As she goes on rejoicing in the laws 
 That gave her life, rejoicing in her birth 
 And in the might she gleans from day to day 
 Making of her a bright perfected planet 
 When she will bear aloft the sign of victory, 
 And then, O brother man, we'll hold a banr[uct 
 And feast upon the intellectual light 
 Which she, as queen, has power to hold and plan, 
 For can she gather wisdom's gems so bright 
 And not impart the same to spirit n.ian. 
 Who is her heir, likewise the heir of God, 
 Who sits as king and holds the spirit realms 
 Within his broad domains, as doth queen earth 
 Control all matter which in her course she gleans , 
 Hence as she doth progress from day to day, 
 And gather spirit light from other worlds 
 She must imbue her children with each ray 
 That comes to her as she thro' space is hurled, 
 But while she travels on devoid of light 
 Man, too, must grope his way in her dark niglit. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 109 
 
 OUR LIVES 
 
 Each life is like a flowing stream 
 
 That seeks the ocean's boundless bed ; 
 With earnest hurry does it steam, 
 
 As by its wayward course 'tis led 
 Through meadows green where wild flowers 
 grow, 
 
 And zephyrs play at hide and seek 
 As they hurl the down from the thistle blow 
 
 And give new bloom tp the faded cheek, 
 While it hurries, hurries on.. 
 
 It rushes down the mountain's side. 
 
 All dark with filth and floating mire, 
 Thinking of naught but the ocean wide 
 
 And its own wild maddening ire. 
 In its breathless haste it tears the flower 
 
 From its green and mossy bed ; 
 It tears the tree from its wooded bower, 
 
 And 'tis numbered among the dead, 
 Yet it hurries, hurries on. 
 
 Its mad waves beat the cold, gray rocks, 
 
 With the strength of a mighty host, 
 But they stand as firm through the perilous 
 shocks 
 
 As tho' they were Sampson's ghost. 
 Then it crawls along thro' the mazy fen, 
 
 Like the moccasin snake on its trail 
 As it kisses the leaves of the maiden-hair 
 
 And waters the grass in the vale. 
 Still it hurries, hurries on. 
 
I 10 Gcius of Inspiration. 
 
 And so in our life, sometimes so mild 
 
 That it favors the thistledown's flight, 
 Or gives new bloom to the faded cheek 
 
 As we grope our way toward the light. 
 But it often rushes with headlong speed, 
 
 With never a thought of distress, 
 While it hastens with avaricious greed 
 
 To the cesspools of fashion's address, 
 As it hurries, hurries on 
 
 THE RISE AND FALL OF AMBITION 
 
 As step by step I shoved the wayward chair 
 Of babyhood and tried to claim the prize 
 
 That just before me lay so bright and fair, 
 And yet so filled with treachery and disguise, 
 
 I stumbled and fell ; and when I raised me up 
 The wealth I coveted was gone forever, 
 
 And left for me the cup of bitterness. 
 
 But soon a mother's patient, loving hand 
 
 Was lain upon my throbbing, aching brain, 
 And in her very breath there was a balm. 
 
 Which as she kissed me o'er and o'er again. 
 Dispelled all pain and bade my soul be calm. 
 
 And then she put within my hand the treasure 
 Which I in vain had tried so hard to grasp. 
 
 But lo, it had no power to charm me now, 
 And so I dashed it down and stood aghast. 
 
 For what was any treasure worth to me 
 Unless I could myself gain what I sought? 
 
 Unless I could outdo the powers that be 
 The value of the treasure was set at naught. 
 
Gems of Iiispirafion. 
 
 Ill 
 
 When step by step in youth I went my wav 
 Along the path that leads to love's fair bowers, 
 
 Where youth and beauty bask within each ray 
 Of golden sun, and pick the lovely flowers' 
 
 That grow beside the path we all must tread. 
 
 I tried to pick one little opening rose 
 Which nestled down upon its mossy bed. 
 
 All white and pure as are the winter snows ; 
 
 But lo, a thorn was hid beneath its leaves, 
 Which pricked my heart, yea, pierced my very 
 soul, 
 
 Turning my golden apples to dead leaves, 
 And hiding from my eyes the future goal. 
 
 And then again I fell, and when I rose 
 The hand of truth was holding to my lips 
 
 The bitter cup of disappointed hope ; 
 
 The blood seemed dripping from mv finger 
 tips, 
 
 And darkness did enshroud me like a pall — 
 A darkness gloomier than the endless night 
 
 Of the infernal regions where devils dwelf; 
 Where error takes the place of truth and right. 
 
 But soon a hand was lain upon my head, 
 Saying, Be calm, a light will dawn at last 
 
 Which will reveal a future bright and grand, 
 And give to you the treasures which you ask. 
 
 But when they placed the gem within my reach, 
 Twas not to me the prize I sought to win : 
 
 But changed from lovely rainbow tints so rich 
 To dusky brown, like the chameleon. 
 
1 12 (iciiis of Iiispiralio]i. 
 
 The boon which I had thought so bright and fair, 
 And in the distance looked like well filled 
 sheaves, 
 Lost all its worth when gained without a care, 
 And turned within my hands to withered 
 leaves. 
 
 In after years as up I tried to climb 
 The rocky, rugged heights of endless fame. 
 
 I found them covered o'er with ancient slime ; 
 And as I tried the treacherous heights to gain. 
 
 The wayward rocks that lay within my path 
 Would often slip beneath my weary feet . 
 
 And let me down in agony to quaff 
 
 The poison draught which fiery demons steep 
 
 In bitterness ; a cup which comes to all 
 Who claim the right and have the will to 
 pass 
 
 The gulf between ambition's hope so bright 
 And the deceitful mounts of fame which rise 
 
 In the enchanted land of mystic light, 
 That beckons faith on to Elysian fields, 
 
 And ever charms the poor deluded sight 
 Of mortal man, who in his blindness yields 
 
 Unto the powers of his relentless fate. 
 
 Which warp the membranes of his flimsy 
 mind 
 Into the channels of ignorance and hate, 
 
 With mad ambition's pent-up fires confined. 
 
 But all unbafflcd by the filth and mire. 
 And jagged rocks that lay within my way. 
 
 And wild ambition's hellish fate so dire, 
 I did aspire to fame's bright golden day. 
 
Gems ( /" Inspiration. 113 
 
 Yet as I robed myself in gorgeous light 
 And took within my hand the sword of truth, 
 
 I boasted of my courage and my might, 
 Not knowing that a fall could come to both. 
 
 And as I looked across the rugged glen 
 Up to the topmost pinnacle of fame 
 
 I said, 'Til pick the laurels there, and then, 
 I will bequeath unto the world a name 
 
 As lasting as the adamantine hill 
 
 Which I must climb if I would reach the 
 mark." 
 
 And so I beat my way with fervent will ; 
 But Oh the sad misgivings of my heart ! 
 
 Yet as I gazed upon the glittering light 
 
 I plumed my helmet with a trembling hand. 
 
 With heavy heart buckled my armour bright, 
 Then prayed for strength from God's almighty 
 hand ; 
 
 But lo, as up I tried to climb the steep 
 I tore my hands upon a ruthless stone ; 
 
 At every step the thorns did pierce my feet, 
 No ray of light upon my pathway shone. 
 
 Nor in the utter darkness could I see 
 The yawning gulf that just before me lay. 
 
 Which I must leap if I would ever see 
 
 The bright and glorious dawning of my day. 
 
 But as I tried to leap the dark abyss. 
 
 My bleeding feet did slip upon the slime ; 
 And then again I fell, nor could I miss 
 
 The fate that comes to every boasting mind. 
 
1 14 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 But now no mother's kiss can cool my brow 
 For she is lying in her lonely grave. 
 
 No soul will hand to me the treasure now ; 
 No friendly hand is e'er outstreached to save ; 
 
 And now what is the glittering crown to me 
 With blacted hopes and bright ambition dead ? 
 
 What beauties in the future can I see 
 
 Since earthly friends with name, and fame 
 have fled? 
 
 And yet I know that I shall rise again 
 To bask within the realms of endless light. 
 
 I know there'll come a hand to smooth my 
 pain. 
 And raise me up to battle for the right. 
 
 A VISION 
 
 Last night, January 10, 1895, in a vision I saw 
 the sky over-hung with one solid sheet of mist 
 upon which was printed the following poems as 
 nearly as I can remember in lettl-rs of ice. 
 
 A PRELUDE 
 
 Last night as I glanced o'er th.e Inroad expanse 
 of liquid light, 
 Where legions of worlds run in their endless 
 paths, 
 A vapor o'erspread the templed star-crowned 
 night. 
 And hid those golden legions from my wonder-, 
 ing gaze. 
 
Gems of Jiispira/ioii. 115 
 
 And as I gazed the mists unfolded like two 
 heavenly scrolls ; 
 Behold each scroll was written o'er with many 
 frosty lines, 
 With letters crytalized that looked like silvered 
 rolls 
 Fresh from the furnace where Diana's silver 
 shines. 
 
 I faced the west and at my left I saw three gems 
 in verse, 
 Revealing in oracles the Seventh House, the 
 "House of woe" 
 Where Jupiter was station'd at my birth and 
 brought a curse, 
 Nor tried to mitigate mv sorrows or distress. 
 But lo ! 
 
 He changed his house at middle of the year, and 
 then 
 T'was said a change would sometime come 
 to me in life ; 
 But then full sixty years are now already gone 
 and when 
 Will come a change to all those years of 
 sordid strife. 
 
 The printing on the scrolls was fine, so "c'cry 
 fine. 
 I thought I could not read those words of 
 icy sheen ; 
 The sun at noon-day could not more dazzling 
 shine 
 Than did those words to mv frail vision seem. 
 
ii6 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 But, lo, at last the dazzling light began to fade, 
 And as I gazed, I soon could see to read 
 aright 
 Each word, each line seemed woven of silver 
 braid, 
 And pinned by faith unto a web of fleecy light. 
 
 THE EIRST SCROLL 
 
 All scarred and seamed with many a ruthless 
 blow, 
 
 Thy soul is rising from morbid depths below; 
 This misty veil which we have hung on high 
 
 Will heal all wounds and bid thy soul defy. 
 
 The prison-house wherein thy soul is chained 
 To the sordid needs thy body claimed, 
 
 And seeks beyond this shimmering misty veil, 
 The seasheli tints wherein all mystics sail. 
 
 Forget the past, forbear o'er sins to brood. 
 Tear out the skeleton wrapped in cloak and 
 hood, 
 Arise, the light behind much brighter rolls 
 Than ought you see upon these lettered 
 scrolls. 
 
 THE SECOND SCROLL 
 
 For lo, the seventh house of woe is past. 
 The bitter cup is drained, no drop is left. 
 
 O'er brighter planes thy lessons now are cast, 
 From'^blighting storms thy future is bereft. 
 
Ceiiis of Inspiration. I ly 
 
 The cold forbidden paths where once you 
 roamed 
 Have shpped away hke snows 'neath April 
 skies, 
 And like a fleecy web from a heavenly loom 
 They hang in folds like curtains from on 
 high 
 
 On which to pin these glittering pearls for you, 
 For every word has truth enfolded there, 
 
 And every thought is crystalized life anew, 
 Fresh from the" Balance-House of Wisdom" 
 rare. 
 
 Justice still holds aloft his tilting scales, 
 And weighs each pearl that comes from astral 
 
 plains 
 Now hidden by angels in these icy mails. 
 
 But will come forth when reason dissolves 
 
 thy chains. 
 
 We of the spirit spheres breathe o'er this cloud 
 And cry stall ze our thoughts in purest rhyme ; 
 
 Tho' clothed they seem in cold and icy shroud 
 They are warm and pure as heaven is divine. 
 
 So rouse thy drooping soul and look for worth. 
 Turn now thy thoughts from earth and seek 
 for rest, 
 For, lo, this ice is free from taint of earth, 
 'Twas gathered from the seashell's tinted 
 breast. 
 
1 18 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 REACH OUT, THOU LONE ONE 
 
 Reach out, tliou lone one, now, and set thy 
 
 stakes, 
 To repel the ruthless chains that bind thee 
 
 down, 
 Knowing the people's wants are not their needs, 
 Knowing- thy loneliness has proved the helm 
 That guides the pen of thine inspired thoughts 
 To higher claims for man than gold can buy. 
 Look o'er the reckless waste of human life. 
 And then the petty wants of vanity, 
 That hamper minds, prevent progressive 
 
 thought. 
 And hold men down to spirit penury. 
 Gold satisfieth not the immortal soul. 
 No chalice of earthly gold can hold to our lips 
 The nectar that can quench the soul's deep 
 
 thirst. 
 Oh the barrenness of the soul which gold can 
 
 sate. 
 Or vaunting pride control. How small it seems 
 Compared with the great waves of boundless 
 
 light. 
 That surge through infinite realms of astral 
 
 space, 
 Swaying men's minds like reeds before the blast. 
 Again we say, Reach out, thou lone One, 
 And gather in the gems of truth along 
 Thv path, and give them to the world. Not 
 
 blindly, 
 But weigh each pearl within the scales of reason 
 And chisel it with words to fit its nook. 
 And we will help you on to show the truth. 
 With all its hidden springs. So falter not, 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 1 19 
 
 Nor measure the world by one dear little hearth, 
 For every home is a link in the heavenly web. 
 So scatter the truths we give into your care 
 Broadcast o'er all the earth with loving hand. 
 
 FROM MY SPIRIT BOY 
 
 I come and stand by your side, dear mother, 
 
 In pity I touch your wrinkled brow. 
 I have tried so hard thy sighs to smother, 
 
 When so many times I have seen thee bow 
 Beneath thy burdens of sorrow and woe, 
 
 When thy soul was rent with pangs of grief ; 
 I have often tried to stagger the blow 
 
 That was sometimes caused by your unbelief. 
 
 I have seen your wants, I have watched every 
 need 
 As you swayed like a reed in the autumn 
 blast, 
 I have seen you trying your soul to feed 
 
 On the husks that the world at your feet has 
 cast, 
 I have watched all this as I listed the strain 
 
 That went swelling out like a rolling wave 
 To the heavenly heights of the spirit plane. 
 Where the banners of freedom incessantly 
 wave. 
 
 Grieve not for me, mother, I am happier here 
 Than I would have been there in the mortal 
 form. 
 
 I kiss the hand that pushed me away 
 
 While I wait with patience for you to come, 
 
 And when you are ready I will lead you o'er 
 
] 20 Gt'iiis of Inspiration. 
 
 To my beautiful home where you long to rest, 
 And thy motlier's heart shall grieve no more, 
 For in this bright home are the weary blest. 
 
 I have come to thee, mother, again and again. 
 
 And soothed with my love your troubled 
 brow, 
 But your only response was a throb of pain. 
 
 As in penitent grief your form bent low. 
 And now, dear mother, arise, arise, 
 
 For you are not alone in the cold world's 
 strife. 
 Wipe all the tears from thine aged eyes 
 
 And forget the pangs of an unloved wife. 
 
 And now, dear mother, do not forget 
 When so often you say, "I am all alone," 
 
 That your child and the angels are with you yet, 
 Smoothing your silver locks one by one. 
 
 And they say your repentance will weave you a 
 crown 
 Out of the embers of the cold dreary past, 
 And you never again will wish to frown, 
 
 For the joys of heaven shall be yours at last. 
 So let the dead past bury its dead, 
 
 For experience gleaned from the lines you 
 have cast 
 Will guide your ship right when the sails are 
 all spread, 
 And so, dear mother, grieve no more for the 
 past. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 121 
 
 "THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE 
 GOD" 
 
 Youthful mother, bending low 
 
 O'er the casket of thy child, 
 Burdened with thy cup of woe. 
 
 And a grief that is almost wild. 
 Remember that the angels called him, 
 
 Pure and spotless as God's own, 
 And thy led him kindly, gently, 
 
 To the lambs around the throne. 
 
 We saw his form lie in its casket 
 
 Draped in flowers for the tomb. 
 Flowers of earth, how soon they wither, 
 
 Like your baby, all too soon. 
 Soon the bud so early faded 
 Will bloom in heaven's perfumed bowers ; 
 Every leaf will be perfected 
 
 In that land of perfect flowers. 
 
 Angel hands will lead him onward 
 
 Thro' the paths of bud and bloom, 
 Grieve not in thy sorrows blindly, 
 
 For the pure have led him home. • 
 Can you wish him back from heaven 
 
 That sweet bud of perfect love, 
 With each leaf so pure, untainted, 
 
 In earth's cruel paths to rove? 
 
 Ah, dear parents, cease your weeping 
 Though your pure white lily's gone, 
 
 For in angel's arms he's sleeping 
 When to you the nignt seems long. 
 
 And he'll often come and nestle 
 
1 22 Ccnis of Inspiration. 
 
 Near your clinging-, sorrowing souls, 
 Sweetly toying with your heartstrings, 
 While your love he still unfolds. 
 
 Now his little spirit wanders 
 
 Far from haunts of sin and grief, 
 Aye no shame about him lingers, 
 
 For with sin his stay was brief. 
 And lo! his Httle baby footsteps 
 
 Now lead you toward the heavenly goal, 
 ''Dust thou art, to dust returnest 
 
 Was not spoken of the soul." 
 
 RELEASED 
 
 These beautiful words are from the pen of G. W. Devin. 
 
 The angel of peace whom mortals call death 
 And fancy he seals life's fount with his breath 
 Had entered that cell so welcome a guest 
 The prisoner wept and fell on his breast. 
 The fetters were loosed and fell on the floor, 
 Invisible hands flung open the door, 
 Unchallenged by guards, unnoted their flight. 
 In silence they passed from darkness to light. 
 
 THE HIDDEN MANNA 
 
 Lo. who can not see in the heavens 
 
 The truth of God's banner unfurled, 
 That it breathes into mortals a spirit 
 
 That must change the unthinking world 
 From the paths of transgression and darkness 
 
 To the light of eternity's day, 
 Where the angel of mercy leads many 
 
 Wliile vet in the bodv of clav ! 
 
Gems of Iiisl^iralioii. i j^ 
 
 Lo, the spirit of His garden is budding 
 
 In the free soil of each human heart, 
 And into fair flowers will be blooming 
 
 Ere the spirit and body shall part, 
 And some even now are just tasting 
 
 Tlie nectar of life as it flows 
 From the fount where each mortal is hasting 
 
 To find their much needed repose. 
 
 What's called death is but the unfolding 
 
 Of the fair tinted petals of life, 
 And soon we shall see by God's moulding 
 
 that light is the death of all strife. 
 For light comes to each soul heavy laden 
 
 With aroma from Eden s fair bowers, 
 And soon will be wove in our heartstrings 
 
 Many tints from God's spiritual flowers. 
 
 Then will all creeds and dogmas be blended 
 
 Into one solid phalanx of souls, 
 And all of earth's turmoils be ended 
 
 As the age of inspired thought rolls 
 Along paths of earth's glorious Eden, 
 
 V/here God's spirit has opened our eyes. 
 And bids us to taste of the manna 
 
 Which in secret he showers on all lives. 
 
 Who are ready and willing to gather 
 
 The small crumbs of this spiritual food. 
 And impart it to some wailing brother 
 
 Whose soul reaches out for the good 
 And grasps after lilies and roses 
 
 That bloom in earth's Eden to-day, 
 And the hearts-ease that grows close beside 
 them 
 
 To soothe him on life's troul~)lcd wav? 
 
124 Gems of Inspinilion. 
 
 Now this garden, which God himself planted. 
 
 Is truly of spiritual growth, 
 And can never be seen or e'en tasted 
 
 As long as we are chasing the moth 
 Of earth's golden riches and splendors, 
 
 Which flies like the dews of the morn 
 When God rains down his hidden manna. 
 
 Forming many bright gems in each crown. 
 
 Now we read that God planted this garden 
 
 At a time when time never began ; 
 That he formed man to till and to water it 
 
 With the waters of life as they ran 
 Thro' the soul-throbs of heaven's great cham 
 bers, 
 
 Where each soul finds its own hidden light 
 As it flames up from the cold dying embers 
 
 Of earth's turbulent, spiritless night. 
 
 But the sun of earth's morn is now rising 
 
 And throwing its long hidden beams 
 O'er the portals of God's blooming garden 
 
 Where are flowing the spiritual streams 
 Of eternity's essence of w^isdom ; 
 
 Stored away in God's archives of might, 
 Tho' long latent in earth's sleeping bosom, 
 
 They're again being brought to the light. 
 
 THE HERAIIT 
 
 The following is a translation from some 
 language outside of the English. Pope says the 
 story was written originally in Spanish, but 
 Goldsmith thinks its author was Arabian, while 
 others think it is of Persian or Hindu origin. 
 No matter where it came from, it speaks our 
 sentiments, and we are going to give \{ a place 
 with our poems. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 125 
 
 Far in a wild unknown to public view 
 From youth to age a reverend hermit grew, 
 The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell. 
 His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well ; 
 A life so sacred, such serene repose 
 Seem'd heaven itself till one suggestion rose 
 That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey, 
 Thence sprung some doubt of Providence's 
 
 sway. 
 To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight. 
 To find if books or swains retort it right 
 He quits his cell, the pilgrim staff he bore. 
 And fix'd the scallop in his hat before, — 
 Then with the sun arising journey went 
 Sedate to think, and watching each event. 
 Now, when the southern sun had warmed the 
 
 day, 
 A youth came posting o'er the crossing way. 
 Then near approaching, "Father, hail," he cried, 
 "And hail, my son,'' the reverend sire replied. 
 Words followed words, from question answer 
 
 flowed. 
 And talk of various kinds beguiled the road. 
 Nature in silence bids the world repose. 
 When near the road a stately palace rose. 
 The pair arrive, the liveried servants wait. 
 Their lord receives them at the pompous gate. 
 The table groans with costly piles of food. 
 And all is more than hospitably good. 
 Then led to rest the day's long toil they drown 
 Deep sunk in sleep and silk and heaps of down. 
 At lensfth 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day, 
 Alonp- the wide canals the zephyrs plav. 
 Up rise tl-'e QTiests obedient to the call. 
 An early banquet deck'd t^^e splendid hall, 
 Rich luscious wine a golden oroblet graced, 
 Which the kind master forced the guest to taste. 
 
126 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Then pleased and happy from tlie porch they 
 
 go. 
 And but the landlord none lias cause for woe. 
 His cup was vanished, for in secret guise 
 The younger guest purloined the glittering 
 
 prize. 
 As one who spies a serpent in his way 
 Glistening and basking in the summer ray. 
 So seemed the sire, when far upon the road, 
 The shining spoil his wily partner showed. 
 He stopped in silence, walked with heavy heart. 
 And much he wished but durst not ask to part. 
 Murmering he lifts his eyes and thinks it hard 
 That generous actions meet a base reward. 
 While thus they pass, the sun his glory shrouds. 
 The changing skies hang out their sable clouds : 
 Warned by the signs the wandering pair retreat 
 To seek for shelter at a neighboring seat ; 
 Its owner's temper, timerous and severe, 
 Unkind and griping caused a desert there. 
 As near the miser's heavy doors they drew 
 Fierce rising gusts with a sudden fury blew. 
 At length some pity warm'd the master's l)reast 
 ('Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guest). 
 Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care, 
 And half he welcomes in the shivering pair. 
 Bread of the coarsest sort with eager wine, 
 Each hardly granted, served them both to dine, 
 And when the tempest first appeared to cease 
 A ready warning bid them part in peace. 
 With still remark the pondering hermit vicw'd 
 In one so rich a life so poor and rude. 
 But what new marks of wonder soon took place 
 In every setting feature of his face, 
 When from his vest the young companion b(^rc 
 That cup. the generous landlord owned before, 
 And paid profusely with precious bowl 
 
Gems of IiispiralioiL 127 
 
 The stinted kindness of that churUsh soul. 
 Now night's dim shades again involve the skv. 
 Again they search and find a lodging nigh. 
 Their greeting fair bestowed w^ith modest guise 
 The courteous master hears, and thus replies, 
 "Without a vain, without a grudging heart, 
 *'To Him who gives us all, I yield a part. 
 "From him you come, for him accept it here, 
 "A frank and sober, more than costly cheer." 
 He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread. 
 Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed. 
 Before the pilgrims part the younger crept 
 Near the closed cradle, where an infant slept 
 And writhed its neck. 
 Horror of horrors ! What ? his only son ! 
 How looked our hermit when the deed was done. 
 Confus'd and struck with silence at the deed 
 He flies, but trembling fails to fly with speed. 
 His steps the youth pursues ; the country lay 
 Perplex'd with roads ; a servant show'd the wav 
 A river cross'd the path, the passage o'er 
 Was nice to find, the servant trod before ; 
 The youth who seem'd to watch a time to sin 
 Approach'd the careless guide and thrust him in. 
 Wild sparkling rage inflames the hermit's eyes, 
 He bursts the bands of fear and mady cries : 
 "Detested wretch," but scarce his speech began 
 When the strange partner seemed no longer man. 
 His youthful face grew more serenely sweet. 
 His robe turned white and flowed upon his feet, 
 And wings whose colors glitter'd in the day 
 Wide at his back their gradual plumes display. 
 A form ethereal bursts upon his sight, 
 And moves in all the majesty of light; 
 But silence here the beauteous angel broke, 
 The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke ; 
 "The great vain man who fared on costly food, 
 
T28 Gems of I us pirn I ion. 
 
 "Whose life was too luxurious to be good, 
 "Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine 
 ''And forc'd his guests to early draughts of wine 
 ''Has with the cup the gracious custom lost 
 "And still he welcomes, but with less of cost. 
 "The mean suspicious wretch whose bolted door 
 "Ne'er movVl in duty to the wandering poor. 
 "With him I left the cup to teach his mind 
 "That heaven can bless if mortals will be kind. 
 "Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, 
 "But now the child half weaned his heart fron. 
 
 God ; 
 "To all but thee in fits he seemed to go, 
 "And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow. 
 "But how had all his fortune felt a wreck 
 "Had that false servant sped in safety back ; 
 "This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal 
 "And what a fund of charity would fail." 
 On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew. 
 The sage stood wondering as the seraph flew. 
 Then gladly turning, sought his ancient place 
 And passed a life of piety and peace. 
 
 The above article certainly shows us that there is a 
 purpose in all things, though that purpose may be hidden 
 from those who are still in the body. 
 
 AUTUMN MUSING 
 
 Oh, those glorious chords of nature. 
 How they vibrate through the soul. 
 
 Like the weakening heart-strings snapping 
 As we strive to reach the goal. 
 
 Yea, each atom, from the leaflet 
 
 To the echoes of each star. 
 Strikes a chord within the music 
 
 Without one discordant jar. 
 
Gems of Iiispirafioii. 129 
 
 As a pathway through the eternal 
 
 Never fading waves of Hght, 
 Where each world in joy supernal 
 
 Weaves its robes of chemic might. 
 
 And where every soul that's thirsty 
 
 Shall drink deep from love's own spring, 
 
 Count as naught each human custom, 
 Like a harp without a string. 
 
 Oh, ye universal soul-throbs, 
 
 How ye pulsate through all spheres. 
 
 From the leaflets to the sun gods 
 Regardless of all morbid fears. 
 
 Oh, the glorious shreds of beauty 
 
 That enshrined this earth of ours, 
 How they knit the soul with heaven 
 
 And its ever-blooming- bowers. 
 
 Every pulse is heavy laden 
 
 From life's never-failing seas, 
 E'en from the touch of man and maiden 
 
 To the slightest trembling breeze. 
 
 Nature knows no discord ever. 
 
 Fired by love's own touch divine, 
 And her subtle voice must quaver 
 
 When w^e bow at nature's shrine. 
 
 ARE ANY LOST? 
 
 Oh, the wayward feet that glide 
 O'er life's stormy boisterous tide, 
 Are they lost and lost forever 
 When they stand on the other side? 
 
T30 Ccuis of liispiratio)i. 
 
 No, for there we meet each other 
 As a sister meets a brother, 
 And God's love will twine around us 
 Like the love-ties of a mother. 
 
 No, the bonds will then unloosen 
 The once cold forbidding bosom, 
 Which on earth became so biased 
 Against those they had not chosen. 
 
 THE GOLD IS GONE AND THE GRAPES 
 ARE ALL GATHERED 
 
 The light of God's day is dawning at last, 
 
 Long ago the grapes into God's winepress 
 were cast 
 Which were raised in his vineyard by the strong 
 hand of Noe. 
 Thence he turned all the wine in earth's gob- 
 lets of woe. 
 
 And to-day earth's children, alas, alas. 
 
 Are reeling and staggering, one dark, drunken 
 
 mass ; 
 Some are drunken with wine, and some drunk 
 
 with gold, 
 And some drunk on the lusts of the Demons 
 
 bold. 
 
 We are all of us drunk on the crimes of the past 
 Which still surge through our veins like a fiery 
 
 blast 
 From the inevita1)le shores of Lethe's dark waves 
 To the red potter's field with its numberless 
 
 graves. 
 
Gems of luspiration. 131 
 
 But as we look out tovv'rd God's Orient day 
 The dark crimes of the past are fading- away ; 
 The goblet is broken and mingles with clay, 
 And the spray from the wine is turned in a day, 
 
 To the rose-tinted beams that will shower their 
 
 rays 
 Of virtue and glory o'er wisdom's clean paths. 
 Whence fair angels will sweep forth all briars 
 
 and thorns. 
 And drive back the mists of all gathering storms. 
 
 When the briars and thorns are removed from 
 
 our way. 
 And the dark clouds of error are turned into 
 
 spray, 
 Then we'll drink with the angels God's nectar of 
 
 love, 
 And bask in the sunlight of truth in his grove. 
 
 And the angels will lead us through deep flowing 
 
 strearTis 
 Where the sunlight of wisdom incessantly beams 
 O'er the paths of the ages, where all will grow 
 
 strong 
 As they drink in the strains that are wafted along 
 
 From the beautiful plains of Apollo's fair bowers, 
 Which are glowing in beauty with unfading- 
 flowers. 
 All of which are baptized with the nectar of love 
 Which perfumes every path in God's spiritual 
 grove. 
 
 And bathes every child with the light of truth's 
 
 spray, 
 Which drives every vestige of error awav. 
 And cleanses each soul from earth's carnage and 
 
 strife. 
 While leading it on to its own higher life. 
 
132 Gems of Iiispiraliou. 
 
 BROKEN CHORDS UNITED 
 
 Oh, the heart-breaks of this earth-hfe. 
 How they ripen up our years, 
 
 Throwing shadows o'er our future, 
 Veihng it with hopes and fears. 
 
 But lo, the angers stoop to hsten 
 To each soul-harp out of tune. 
 
 And lave the strings until they glisten. 
 Like the pure white lily's bloom. 
 
 May God's angels tune each heart-ache 
 Till they sink to milder strains. 
 
 And each heart-string slacken gently 
 At the touch of its own pains. 
 
 Would to God each earthly chalice 
 Could be filled with heavenly spray, 
 
 Rainbow-tinted without malice. 
 And with faith in each brifjht rav. 
 
 UNKNOWN WORLDS 
 
 A little grain of common yellow sand 
 
 Is flying at my feet, a little world 
 Within itself, but say, can it command 
 
 Its own small destiny? or is it hurled 
 By the eternal wind that ever blows 
 Into some dark abyss where winter snows 
 Can never come ? and where it ne'er can feel 
 
 The warm embraces of the sun's bright rays 
 And where no little drop of rain can steal 
 
 Into the gulf's meandering ways : or else 
 
Gcuis of Inspiration. T33 
 
 Perhaps, some wild cyclone has picked it up 
 
 And buried it beneath old ocean's wave, 
 Or dropped it down in some bright buttercup 
 That grows upon some lonely wanderer's 
 grave. 
 Again, it may remain in its bright place. 
 Among its fellow-grains of sand ; and claim 
 Relationship, but still we know 'tis naught. 
 When in the warring elements 'tis caught ; 
 And yet, when left in its own sphere to move. 
 Tis full of wealth, and hope, and joy, and love. 
 
 What is the little drop of pearly dew 
 
 That lieth on its velvet couch asleep, 
 And gives new lustre to the rose's hue. 
 
 Or makes the poor pale lily's petals we.ep? 
 Can it control its own when the great orb 
 
 Throws dowmits spiral tongues and sips it up? 
 Or can it deck the lily's pearly robe ? 
 
 Or bask within the hare-bell's dainty cup 
 When morn's cool breeze goes dancing gaily by ? 
 From whence it comes, or whither doth it go, 
 It only has the power within to know. 
 
 What is the little rounded grain of wheat 
 
 That lies beneath the ground so damp and 
 cold ? 
 Will it come forth the sun's warm rays to greet ? 
 
 Or will it waste and die beneath the mould? 
 Perhaps 'tis lain away from sun and rain. 
 
 Within the wealthy farmer's massive bin, 
 And ne'er v/ill generate its like again ; 
 
 For. lo, 'tis trampled down by all its kin : 
 And though it is a world of life and wealth. 
 It has no power to shape its course itself. 
 
1 34 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 What is the high and sturdy oak that stands 
 Beside the way — or in some rugged glen. 
 
 Throwing its cooHng shades o'er burning sands. 
 Or pouring out its soothing bahn on men ? 
 
 Long has it braved the angry wind and rain. 
 
 Yet, by the hghtning's sliaft 'tis rent in twain. 
 
 It is itself a world of life and power, 
 
 Yet by the ax 'tis felled in one short hour. 
 What are the placid ocean's shining waves 
 
 As they dance gaily in the morning light, 
 Or cuddle down in earth's dark, lonely caves, 
 
 To dream and sleep away the faithful night? 
 It is a lovely gift to all mankind ; 
 
 But it defies all other powers on earth, 
 When lashed to fury by the unseen wind, 
 
 It is to human aid of little worth. 
 It is a world in which rare treasures dwell. 
 What lies beneath its waves no tongue can tell. 
 
 What is this earth on which we mortals stand ? 
 
 Has she a power her own, all life to bless ? 
 Or could she hold the ocean in her hand? 
 
 Or bear the towering mountain on her breast? 
 Or wear the glittering iceberg like a crown ? 
 
 Or veil her lovely face in morning dews? 
 Did not her father sun come gently down. 
 
 And in her growing soul some life infuse? 
 She is a glorious world of life and light ! 
 But only she can know her power and might. 
 
 What is that dazzling orb we call the sun. 
 
 That swavs so manv worlds with his calm 
 light ^ 
 Is he coerced by some superior sun ? 
 
 Or does he walk by his own power antl might ? 
 Or is he led by some great central sun 
 
(/c'///,s- of Insl^iiaiion. 135 
 
 Like fair Capella or Al(lc1)aran? 
 We know no more of his whole hfe complete, 
 Than of the little sand-grain at our feet. 
 What is that band we call the milky way, 
 
 That waves its silver robes across the sky, 
 And reaches out its hand as if to stay 
 
 All other glittering worlds that pass it by ? 
 To mortal man 'tis but a girdle pale, 
 
 Winding its way across the heavenly dome, 
 Like unto some terrestrial winding vale, 
 
 That ever to the cooling stream says, ''come." 
 It seems to clasp within its glittering folds 
 
 Our parent sun with his magnetic rays ; 
 And all his children in its arms it holds ; 
 
 One universal law the whole obeys. 
 But to the glowing realms of endless space 
 
 'Tis mvriads of peopled worlds Uke ours 
 Which bask still in each other's warm embrace, 
 
 And thereby reinforce their vital powers. 
 Where suns hold worlds submissive to their 
 plan, 
 
 And worlds look up to suns for strength and 
 might. 
 And the great whole, from suns to grains of 
 sand. 
 
 Make one infinitude of space and might. 
 All, all is harmony, God, if God there be. 
 
 From the almighty suns to grains of sand, 
 And from the sparkling waters of the sea 
 
 To the liquid light by purest breezes fanned. 
 Yea, every atom, ethereal or gross, 
 
 Has its own work within this moving mass ; 
 But to each great and central sun of hosts, 
 
 What is one grain of sand or blade of grass ? 
 
13^ CJciiis of Insptation. 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL DAWX 
 
 There is a charm in morning's subtle shade 
 
 Which brings a joy surpassing anything 
 We ever felt or knew. Yet few are made 
 
 To taste those joys which must forever bring 
 Peace to the troubled soul. For sure 'tis bliss 
 
 To sit alone when teeming life seems dead 
 And buried in night with day's last parting kiss 
 
 Still resting on its cold, pale marble l^row, 
 While the sweet zephyrs bow in grief their head 
 
 And sing to silent life a requiem low ; 
 Not knowing that the sun will rise again, 
 
 And day with life be teeming ere her noon 
 Shall send its scorching rays o'er hill and plain. 
 
 Yea. yea, 'tis bliss to watch the morning dawn 
 And view each added ray of gorgeous light 
 
 As it comes to us on waves of beauty, born 
 An offspring of the dark and peerless night. 
 
 Likening all life unto a new-born babe, 
 Sweet bud of promise lying on nature's breast, 
 
 Rocked in the cradle of delight the sun hath 
 made 
 For earth's conflicting elements to rest. 
 
 It brings new life to saunter forth at dawn 
 And bare our brow to catch the morning dews ; 
 
 To drink elixir from the fount of morn ; 
 Then paint with pen of fire heaven's liquid hues 
 
 Upon the gilded tablet of nature's page, 
 As bright memorials of moving splieres. 
 
 And suns reclining on golden beds of age, 
 Baptizing other worlds with sacred tears 
 
 Of wisdom, — so ethereal and refined 
 They scarcely can be seen upon earth's flowers 
 
 Until the sun his gidd\- lieight has climl)e(l 
 And peers between the leaves of nature's bow- 
 ers, — 
 
Gcuis of Inspiration. 137 
 
 Transfusing with his hght the ghstening 
 pearls 
 For his own use, then Hcks them up hke fire, 
 
 Laving his burning thirst from other, worlds, 
 While seeming to crush all life in his mad ire. 
 
 Ah, yes, there is a nectar in the dews 
 Which fill the raging soul with life and health ; 
 
 There is a wealth in dawn's bright-tinted hues 
 That brings a feast surpassing worldly wealth. 
 
 Then, "Oh, ye sluggards!" rise from your 
 beds of sloth, 
 And seek the first dim ray of morning light. 
 
 Hold it, and watch the beauty of its growth 
 Until a lovely day is born of night. 
 
 GO ON, BRAVE SOUL 
 
 We see thy life-boat stemming the surging waves 
 Of passion's dark tempestuous sea of sin. 
 Without one shudder. Though the waves run 
 
 high 
 Not e'en a timber creaks near bow or stern ; 
 For lo ! each mast and spar are fairly bathed 
 With great St. Elmo's fire of heavenly light 
 Which bears thee up and out from passion's hell 
 Of loveless lives, and dual nothingness. 
 Which reign supreme upon this earth to-day. 
 The angel band who guide thy trusty feet 
 Have set thy flagstaft* on the mountain peak 
 Of Beulah land, by love's eternal truth, 
 And through this cold unmitigated age. 
 Thine eagle eye will watch the beacon light 
 Of truth "and purity, that shines for all. 
 The reeling, staggering, thoughtless morbid hosts 
 That live upon this earth, Init live a lie. 
 
138 Gems of IiispiratioJi. 
 
 So while you watch the milestones by the way, 
 By the fair light of great St. Elmo's fire, 
 Let not thy footsteps flag e'en for a breath, 
 But gird truth's armor tight about thy soul. 
 Hold firm the pen within thy strong right hand, 
 And wield it well. Guide with thy left, the helm 
 Of church and state, and still by tliy command 
 The boisterous waves of sorrow and despair. 
 Two earnest bands from the shore of spirit life 
 Have lately met and mingle heart and soul 
 To widen and weld the bond of social weal, 
 At this, the dawning of the earth's great day. 
 So waver not, thou faithful, earnest one, 
 But fan thy spark of light to a living flame, 
 To light mankind through purer, cleaner paths, 
 Of the unseen ages which are yet to como, 
 And lead them on to holier truths divine. 
 While bigots hurl their cloud-capped thimder- 
 
 bolts, 
 And custom sharpens error's fiery darts. 
 Know that thine armor is invulnerable ; 
 So bigots' shafts will have no power to wound 
 The immortal soul that throbs within thy breast, 
 Alive to human needs, and love's true goal. 
 
 (Given for J. E. P. Clark, from the Orient of 
 earth's spiritual arena.) 
 
 AN APPEAL TO LIBERTY 
 
 Spirit of love, unstring thy golden harp. 
 Then lay it down before the eternal throne 
 And bow thy head and plead with liberty 
 To unglove her hands and then unveil her face. 
 To look with naked eyes upon her sword 
 Red with oppression's l)loo(l. Next trace the 
 names 
 
Gems of Iiispirafioii. 139 
 
 Written upon the surface of her throne 
 In letters raised so bold and prominent 
 That they can be both seen and felt ; and there 
 Are pictures, too, wrought by her hand, of men, 
 Good, honest men with daggers at their throats. 
 Because of un]:)elief in Christian creeds ; 
 Nurslings of tyranny, offspring of misery, too, 
 Held in the lap of ignorance and crime 
 And drawing at the paps of foul disease, 
 Their souls baptised at the dark dismal fount 
 Of sin and death, and crush'd by heavy burdens, 
 And bound in menial chains of servitude 
 Before earth's monied kings. And now behold, 
 Oh, tyranny cloth'd in freedom's robes, and 
 
 wearing 
 Upon thy cursed brow thy starry crown 
 While holding in thy strong right hand the key 
 To prisons, and in thy left the flowing bowl ; 
 Thine armor stamped with custom's creeds and 
 
 dogmas, 
 But wholly void of God's almighty truths. 
 
 Ope wide the doors of nature's gilded halls 
 And bathe their guilty souls in freedom's air ; 
 Then take the gloves that have for ages past 
 Covered the treachery of thy blood-stain 'd hands 
 And wipe thy bloody sword, then sprinkle it 
 With gold dust from the streets of freedom's 
 
 heaven, 
 Then stand before thy throne of burnish 'd gold 
 And there behold written by demon's hands 
 Upon its brazen front, '*The lust for power." 
 Then look above, below, on either side 
 Thou monstrous vulture of all civilities, 
 And see the different titles thou hast held, 
 The different garbs thou'st worn ; the dift'erent 
 
 chains 
 
140 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Thou'st forged about the necks of slavery 
 
 By tyranny, wars, mammon, and worst, by creeds, 
 
 Then draw aside the drapery of thy throne 
 
 And there behold the heap'd up skeletons 
 
 Of those whom thou hast slain with fire and ax, 
 
 And rope and sword and gun and prison walls 
 
 In the holy name of Christian lil:)erty. 
 
 Turn, now, thine eyes, exalting tyranny, 
 
 Thou low presentment of fair liberty. 
 
 And look upon the lowest of thy sons 
 
 Whose mind is fetter'd with stale ignorance. 
 
 Whose body daily feeds on bread alone, 
 
 Whose soul has never yet been satisfied. 
 
 Albeit his hands are rough with honest toil — 
 
 He stands a moral blot on nature's book. 
 
 Now go from him to the weird denizens 
 
 Of the hell that thou hast made, and there behold 
 
 The 1)rilliant minds on fire, the human forms 
 
 That hold those minds — all loathsome, bloated, 
 
 reeling. 
 And hear the frenzied oaths, the kicks, the cuffs. 
 The midnight pistol shots, and watch the flowing 
 Of the crimson stream that once did feed a soul 
 As pure as theirs who bow before God's throne. 
 
 Turn, now, thine eyes from the revolting scene 
 Of loathsome filth and mad insanity. 
 From minds where reason comes and goes at will. 
 To those who ever v.ail in utter darkness. 
 And from bright youth unto the faded crone 
 Whose aspirations once leaped mountain high 
 Arch'd by the bow of promise, spite of doubts 
 Cloth'd in the gorgeous hues of high resolves. 
 Led on by faith, while hope held high her hand 
 And pointed forward to the final goal. 
 Look, look upon the highest of (~lod's works 
 Ruined and worse than slaughter'd by thv hand, 
 
Gc]ns of Inspiration. 141 
 
 Shut up in prisons dark and damp and cold, 
 Or in the mad-house gnawing at their chairs, 
 Until their teeth are keenly set on edge, 
 Or, worse than all, drinking a fiery draught 
 In earth's deluding hell-holes deep and dark. 
 While thus you stand within hell's open jaws 
 And scan the miseries of oppression's chains. 
 Trample the gaudy crown beneath thy feet 
 Which thou hast worn with such an empty grace. 
 
 Brush from thy robes the dust of foul deceit, 
 Then sprinkle them with gems of human love, 
 Tear down the tottering pillars of thy throne 
 Which stand upon the putrid, shaky sands 
 Of dead men's bones already rotten, not 
 From lapse of time, but from the stench arising 
 From the wasted, stagnant blood of honest men. 
 
 Wash well thy bloody hands at nature's fount 
 And cleanse the inner temple of thy throne 
 With the bright glowing fires of human rights ; 
 Now hie away to the beautiful hills of God, 
 And there behold His lower living creatures 
 Feeding on living pastures, drinkmg deep 
 At the fount of natural life, all living out 
 The order*" of God's laws in perfect harmony. 
 Look and compare, and then say if you can. 
 My creeds, my customs and my laws are just. 
 
 Next roll avv-ay the stone from nature's tomb 
 And there see, wrapped in a napkin pure and 
 
 white 
 The principles of justice, love and truth 
 At which the world still scoffs and wags its head 
 And spits upon and scourges, crowns with thorns 
 And crucifies and tries to kill, but which 
 Though crushed to earth will ever rise again 
 
T42 Gems of Iiispiratio)}. 
 
 In spite of all hell's powers that eriish it down. 
 And, marked in heaven's livery still proclaim 
 That truth, and truth alone, can make men free. 
 
 And now, O tyranny, liberty, so-called, 
 Lurking within the house of holy creeds 
 Cast off thy monarch's crown of shining gold 
 And bow before the throne of human rights. 
 And there confess thy many, many sins 
 Show to mankind that he who w^ould save the 
 
 world 
 Must save himself by living out the laws 
 Which are the only way-marks leading up 
 To wisdom's holy mount and man's unfoldment, 
 To future peace and universal love. 
 Throughout the vast domains of spirit life. 
 
 I STAND ALONE 
 
 Alone among the stars I stand, 
 I feel the lifting of a hand 
 That points to paths untrod by man, 
 Along the starry plains. 
 
 Those paths are paved w^ith golden thought 
 That by some souls are dearly bought, 
 Though by the wise they're counted naughty 
 Because not found in books. 
 
 On starry charioteer I gaze, 
 
 Tho' hid from earth by ancient haze. 
 
 I see the light of other days 
 
 Begins at Charioteer. 
 
Gems of IiisfyirafioiL 143 
 
 The fair Capella sheds her 1)right 
 And emerald rays of pearly light 
 On some who live in darkest night 
 
 Of unprecedent thought. 
 
 This twinkling star once poured its rays 
 O'er Judah's dark and mystic ways ; 
 This star of Bethlehem, all ablaze. 
 
 Did lead the Wise afar; 
 
 And pointed to a manger cold, 
 Where lay the Shepherd of the fold — 
 Spirit of Truth, unfettered, bold, 
 A sequel to the past. 
 
 I stand alone ; no human birth 
 Has brought me aught of real worth. 
 My hungering soul finds nought but dearth, 
 For ignorance is but dross. 
 
 I watch, I wait, I cannot find 
 One soul who is not wholly blind 
 To sovereign laws by God combined 
 
 With all the starry spheres. 
 
 For sovereign laws are set at nought, 
 While human laws are thickly wrought 
 With dire disease and fabled thought 
 
 Of God's best gifts to man. 
 
 I stand among the rocks alone ; 
 A wilderness is round me thrown. 
 I ask for bread, but find a stone 
 
 Is all this world can give. 
 
 I ask for light, but only a spark 
 Comes drifting down from ages dark. 
 Scarcely enough to make a mark 
 
 Upon life's onward march. 
 
T44 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 But lo, the veil is being rent 
 And pent up mysteries only lent 
 Back to tradition will be sent 
 
 As Truth unfolds her laws. 
 
 Earth's cycles show that a beacon light 
 Is piercing the folds of her dark night, 
 Revealing God's own Truth and might 
 
 By rending the veil in twain. 
 
 Soon, in the twikling of an eye. 
 Time will unfold his by-and-by. 
 And show the eternal how and why. 
 
 When the seventh great seal is 
 broke. 
 
 EVOLUTION'S LADDER 
 
 There is a spacious stairway, long and steep, 
 
 Built by the undulating hand of Time, 
 
 Which reaches through the realms of endless 
 
 space 
 To worlds invisible. It is not built 
 Of classic lore, but of broad expansive truths 
 Of God's invincible. Yet as it stands 
 On mines of worldly wealth, much sordid gold 
 Scattered round its base is seen, with gems 
 Of fleeting happiness for our present needs. 
 The lower rungs are rough and battered o'er 
 With the sharp rocks of fate inevitable. 
 Few think to try its stern realities. 
 Or wish to climb to broader, brighter spheres. 
 If all of us had wings that we could soar. 
 With hands unsullied and unbending v.ills. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 145 
 
 How soon would we try to see what gems are 
 
 hung 
 On each successive, each advancing rung 
 Of evolution's ladder. But, alas ! 
 The glittering frailty of earth's mocking joys 
 Has dimmed our eyes to such rich, enchanting 
 
 brightness, 
 Until we are blind to all progressive steps. 
 Nor do we wish to climb to heavenly plains 
 While we can gorge our worldly appetites 
 Upon earth's golden husks. 'Tis easier far 
 To sleep on downy beds of luxury. 
 In quiet rest and dreamless indolence. 
 While watching and waiting for our wings to 
 
 grow. 
 That me may soar up to the God of isms. 
 There to sing his praise forever more. 
 But as we wait in hall of luxury, 
 Or sleep on beds of wealth, or half recline 
 Within our fairy boat of golden hours. 
 Expecting some magician soon to come 
 And lift the gossamer veil which God has hung 
 Twixt us and life's unfolding spirit spheres. 
 We fling our precious golden-tinted moments 
 Unto the winds of barren dissipation. 
 But stern realities have forced a few 
 Who have been roughly trampled under foot 
 And ostracised, estranged from kith and kin. 
 To clutch with eager hands the lower rungs 
 Of time's progressive steps, as doth the weary, 
 Belated traveler with trembling hands 
 And struggling breath clutch in wild desperation 
 The moving train as it goes whirling by. 
 The fates (albeit the Gods) have helped them on 
 Almost from infancy to climb to scenes 
 More varied and to broader fields of truth 
 
146 Gems of Juspiratiou. 
 
 And knowledge unexplored. At first the patl 
 Is rough and hard to climb ; the steps are long 
 And steep, the progress slow, the cross is heavy 
 And some oft sink beneath the added burdens 
 Of baftied inspiration. Or it mayhap 
 That some may slip and fall upon the slime 
 Of acrimonious ignorance. And some 
 There are wdio try to reach the golden gate 
 Of nature's high arcana in double-quick, 
 That they may take the credit to themselves 
 And rob progression of her timely dues 
 But ah, alas! they cannot reach the top 
 In blundering haste, nor can they cut across 
 And w^in the race. And so they learn in bitter- 
 ness 
 That they must climb with patience and fortitude 
 The mystic winding stairs of nature's crude 
 And imperfected law'S of metaphysics. 
 Few yet can stand on earth's material plain 
 And lift the ethereal veil which God has hung 
 Twaxt mind and mind or earth and spirit worlds ; 
 And even they have only gained one step 
 Preparatory to a long eternity. 
 With its great endless and progressive paths, 
 Which hold within their labaryinthine folds 
 The garden of the Lord, which still contains 
 The tree of life, with its twelve kinds of fruit , 
 Which yet it casts to earth as the end draws nigh ; 
 And as of yore its leaves all nations heal. 
 Plere in the garden of God man yet will find 
 Bright flow^ery plains and vines of luscious fruit. 
 Cool, shady glens and green and fertile vales. 
 With streams of water pure, wdiich ever flow 
 Tow^ard oceans deep and dark and turbulent, 
 Whose depths do ever hide the serpent's sting. 
 But on the shores of Lethe, near the rock 
 
Gems of Iiispirafioii. 147 
 
 That hid the serpent's smile, then crushed his 
 
 head, 
 And 'neath all joys of heaven, all fears of hell, 
 And 'neath all scalding tears, all scoffs, all jeers. 
 And hence beneath the weight of custom's 
 
 frowns 
 The Lord has weighed and cast his anchor down 
 Into the troubled deep that laves the lighthouse 
 Of every human soul who stands as waymark 
 To the bright beyond, beyond and yet beyond, 
 Along the endless and progressive paths 
 Which leads us on through wisdom's spacious 
 
 bowers, 
 Which bloom unceasingly with goodly flowers 
 Of everlasting, ever unfolding growth, 
 Forever changing still from old to new, 
 From new to newer still, but never fading 
 Thro' all the eons that are past and gone. 
 Nor all the eons which are yet to come 
 That move the unnumbered spheres where na- 
 ture rides 
 In her triumphal car of glowing worlds, 
 WHiereon all souls will find a potent power 
 Sufficient to unfold all latent buds. 
 That every incarnation pushes forth 
 Toward the omniscience of the Great I Am, 
 Who holds each end of evolution's ladder 
 In his omnipotent, omnipresent hand. 
 And welds the ends into an endless, dual band 
 By his almighty fires of spirit love divine. 
 
148 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 WHAT IS WOMAN? 
 
 Woman, art thou a lifeless, walking- tree. 
 
 Shaken by the howling and relentless winds, 
 
 Or, bound by the fetters of base slavery, 
 
 A puppet, plaything, without brain or mind, 
 
 A foolish dummy, dressed in gay attire, 
 
 Standing where man can gaze upon thy form 
 
 And fill his lustful soul with warm desire 
 
 While you repel his touch with loathsome 
 scorn ? 
 
 And yet you clothe your artificial form 
 With drapery to feast the lustful eyes, 
 
 Then stalk about in clouds of mystic gloom. 
 While in your yearning brest your last hope 
 dies. 
 
 Yea, while thy fiesh puts on its costly robes, 
 
 A whited sepulchre lies deep within. 
 Your soul's filled with the stench of dead men's 
 bones, 
 All fettered and uncleansed from shame and 
 sin ; 
 
 For while you bow your heads in meekest 
 prayer 
 Your hands are reeking with the b.olv 1)lood 
 Of unborn babes, and your brow, which seems 
 so fair. 
 Is stamped with the curse of unloved woman- 
 hood. 
 
Ccins of /iisl^iration. 149 
 
 Art thou the reed the Christ went out to see, 
 Shaken by the unhallowed winds of scorn, 
 
 Trailing your royal robes within the dust 
 
 And wishing in your heart that you were 
 borne 
 
 To some bright clime where you could live in 
 peace 
 And innocence, away from foul desire. 
 Where naught's called love save that which 
 brings release, 
 And love, ne'er turned to lust bv demons dire, 
 
 Who are the offspring of thy hellish fate, 
 
 Borne down by devils stronger than them- 
 selves, 
 
 Bearing within their souls the fires of hate. 
 And plunging other souls in deeper hells? 
 
 And now, Oh, woman, what art thou to man 
 More than a worthless, lifeless, fondled tool? 
 
 Look at thy life and then say, if you can, 
 Which is the worse, hell's devil or its fool ? 
 
 Speak, woman, speak, or canst thou find no 
 voice 
 
 To tell thy tales of misery and woe ? 
 No will hast thou to make the fitting choice 
 
 And lead the way in which you wish to go ; 
 
 Hast thou no heart within thy yearning breast? 
 
 Hast no soul within thy withering form? 
 Hast thou no pulse to thrill at touch of hands? 
 
 Hast no feet to trample down the thorns? 
 
T50 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Hast thou no hand to brush away the dews 
 That ever gather thro' the lonq-, dark night? 
 
 Hast thou no eyes to see the morning hues. 
 As they pour in through eastern gates oi 
 light? 
 
 Hast thou no strength to break the tinseled 
 cords 
 
 That custom twines around thee like a spell. 
 Binding God's truth with sacreligious words. 
 
 xA.nd bidding life and health a sad farewell? 
 
 Hast thou no power to rend the veil in twain 
 Which hides the inner life of thee and thine 
 
 That in reciprocated love you may regain 
 The overflowing cup of joys divine? 
 
 Throw ofif the weight that crushes like a spell. 
 Gird on the sword of justice, love and truth, 
 
 Stand firm within the very jaws of hell. 
 And there unfurl the banner of thy youth. 
 
 Show to the world its stripes are made of 
 blood 
 Which custom drew from veins of martyred love 
 
 That had been starved for want of proper food. 
 While by the christian's cutting lash 'twas drove 
 
 To madness and desperation dark and dire. 
 And hellish hate that would dethrone a God 
 
 And drive him headlong into endless fire. 
 For blotting out his goodness with a rod 
 
 Of vengeance and wrath by fiery demons 
 hurled 
 Into the very gates of heavenly bliss. 
 
 As if the flames of hell were there unfurled. 
 And evcrv earth-child stood bv the hot abvss. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 1 5 1 
 
 And now, O woman, when thou seest all 
 Canst thou not drop the veil that hides thy grief, 
 
 And show earth's gods that thev have caused 
 the fall ; 
 That love and truth alone can bring relief? 
 
 Then will you stand upon the rampart's height 
 Of love and truth and holiness divine ; 
 
 And as the gates of heaven swing back for 
 thee, 
 Thou wilt walk in and sip the glowing wine 
 
 Of mutual love, which is the final goal 
 Of spirit-life, and claim thyself the right 
 
 To sit in judgment o'er thy pleading soul, 
 And there unfurl the banner of freedom's light. 
 
 And then bend e'er the grave of buried love, 
 And break the galling chains that bind it down 
 
 To nothingness, then set on high above 
 The cross whose suffering bought its glittering 
 crown. 
 
 Brush from its lips the ashes of dead leaves ; 
 Bind up the broken hearts of crushed humanity ; 
 
 Then place before the throne thy garnered 
 sheaves. 
 Filled with the lovely fruits of earth's divinity. 
 
 Pick up the broken links of youthful love 
 That glisten in thy memory of the past. 
 
 And tvv-ine them around the sorrows of thy 
 soul. 
 Like shades of eve by golden skies o'crcast. 
 
 And while enraptured thus you stand and gaze 
 On the vast sea of human misery, 
 
 Can you not brush away the mist and haze 
 Of ignorance and dark antiquity? 
 
152 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 WHAT IS MAN? 
 
 Man, art thou a molten image, made of gold, 
 Stationed upon the pinnacle of fame ? 
 
 Or standing a stately, glittering iceberg cold. 
 Within the polar region's broad domain, 
 
 Where only the cold, pale rays of winter's sun 
 Can meet the charm of thy forbidding airs, 
 
 Without one element of summer heat 
 
 To melt thy stony heart to love and tears ? 
 
 And as you stand in wilderness or grove, 
 
 Do you at times not long for some bright ray 
 
 Of woman's love to cheer you in the strife, 
 To strengthen and to lead you on your way? 
 
 And as you count your heaps of yellow gold. 
 And pour it in your cofifers, deep and wide. 
 
 Are you content, while at arm's length you hold 
 The woman who was once a lovely bride. 
 
 While you deal out a pittance, mean and small, 
 And lay it in her palm, so thin and frail? 
 
 Can you not hear the clanking chains that fall 
 Upon her weary soul like the death wail 
 
 Arising from the hearts of devils danmed. 
 Who have outlived the thoughts of truth and 
 love 
 Which are the keys to all that's bright and 
 grand. 
 And ever leads the wav to realm? above? 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 153 
 
 Lock up your gold within your massive safe, 
 Then climb the azure heights of heaven's 
 dome, 
 
 And then look down upon life's flowery waste 
 That doth surround the prison walls of home ; 
 
 And view the gap thy treasured gold might fill, 
 Which is the yawning gulf twixt thee and 
 thine ; 
 And then say, if you can, whence comes this 
 chill 
 That overflows all earthly joys divine? 
 
 And now, O man, can you, with iron heel, 
 
 Forge closer still the links of woman's chains, 
 
 And at the tears she sheds no sorrow feel. 
 
 Or e'er unfold your hands to soothe her pains ? 
 
 Oh, can you listen to the pleading moan 
 Arising from the heart of bleeding love, 
 
 And mot unto that bleeding heart say, "Come, 
 I'll lead you to the goal for which you strove." 
 
 And as you take her gently by the hand 
 
 And lead her on through new and flowery 
 fields, 
 
 Can you not see sweet freedom's golden wand, 
 And that oppression's hellish doom it seals? 
 
 Then, as you sit in nature's gilded halls. 
 
 Will you not, with your sword clip her chains 
 
 And take her from those hated prison walls, 
 The ghastly growth of dead law-makers' 
 brains. 
 
154 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 And now, O man, wilt thou not ope the door 
 That holds thy martyred love a prisoner 
 doomed 
 
 Within thy living, human heart's deep core, 
 While for its speedy flight 'tis richly plumed, 
 
 And sits upon the altar of its soul. 
 
 Holding its glittering quiver in its hand. 
 
 Waiting for you to draw aside the veil 
 
 That' hides your sight from all that's bright 
 and grand. 
 
 Waiting for you to feast your worldly eyes 
 Upon the glittering gold youVe hoarded up. 
 
 For which you paid the forfeit of a love 
 
 That lies within the draught you fain would 
 sifp : 
 
 But in thine eager thirst for wealth and fame 
 Thou'st pushed aside the tender finger tips 
 
 That poured the balm of Gilead on thy brain 
 And held life's precious nectar to thy lips. 
 
 Thou'st bruised the hand that wove thy laurel 
 wreath ; 
 Thou'st trampled under foot a woman's truth ; 
 Thou'st crushed the love that could assuage thy 
 grief. 
 And thus debased the innocence of youth. 
 
 Remember love and truth were never born 
 In gilded halls or palaces of pride. 
 
 But in a manger cold, and dark and lone 
 They lay, one perfect germ, a spirit-guide, 
 
 The offering of a mutual love complete, 
 
 In harmony with itself and all the world — . 
 
 A soul divine, within itself replete 
 
 With all its glowing light of trutli unfurled. 
 
Gems of Iiispirafioii. 1 55 
 
 And now, O man, yield up your shininp;- gold. 
 And now, O earth, yield up your garnered 
 sheaves. 
 And pay thy bride the wages of her toil 
 
 Where heretofore she's gathered naught but 
 leaves. 
 
 And then say, if you can, which is richest fee. 
 The gold that flies as doth the morning dews, 
 
 Or the joyous cup of mutual love so free, 
 Filled to the brim with nature's sacred laws? 
 
 And now, O Time, cast ofif thy well-worn shoes, 
 For thou dost stand on nature's holy grounds, 
 
 And give to woman her own right to choose 
 The sacred order of all wedded bonds 
 
 Contained within the three great central links 
 Of life and truth and love, all satisfied, 
 
 Set with the seal of motherhood's fair tints ; 
 Throned on the car of wisdom sanctified. 
 
 THE WOMAN OF THE TW^ENTIETH 
 CENTURY 
 
 Woman, didst thou but know thy power 
 To claim thy birthright and thy dower. 
 Thou w^ouldst o'erleap the gulf that lies 
 Twixt thee and thine own paradise ; 
 Wouldst turn the soil of liberty 
 And reap the harvest yet to be. 
 Thou wouldst walk forth like some great god, 
 Instead of cowering *neath the rod. 
 
156 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 March forth to conquer in thy might, 
 Clothed in robes of purest while. 
 Unseal the seal of God's great plan, 
 For woman shall encompass man ; 
 And soon you'll see the rule reversed. 
 The last ascending to the first. 
 
 I see a woman all replete ; 
 
 The moon hangs low beneath her feet. 
 
 Clothed in the halo of the sun, 
 
 Her royal race has just begun. 
 
 Her soul reclaims again its youth. 
 
 She wields the sword of nature's truth. 
 
 Arisen is her star of hope, 
 
 And gleams upon life's horoscope. 
 
 She hath put ofif her scarlet dress. 
 She wears no more her broider'd vest. 
 But in her bridal robes she comes 
 As came the Lord forth from the tomb. 
 And lo ! the Bridegroom cometh too. 
 The old is past ; behold the new ! 
 
 Behold her on her milk-white steed ; 
 In her right hand she holds a reed 
 With which to measure joys to come 
 Within earth's universal home. 
 Where dual love is all complete, 
 And lust lies moaning at her feet. 
 
 In life's sweet cup she pours a balm 
 Extracted from the Jewish palm. 
 The battle's fought ; the victory's won ; 
 The Bridegroom and the Bride are one. 
 No sins to purge, no scars to heal ; 
 For every woe is turned to weal ; 
 For mystic rule has been reversed, 
 And woman has become the first, 
 ClDthcd in licr armor of knighted mail. 
 Nature is just : Truth shall prevail. 
 
Cciiis of Iiispirafioii.' 1$? 
 
 IN MEMORY OF MY DEAREST FRIEND, 
 MRS. M. A. CARR 
 
 The jewel was raised from its casket 
 
 By the touch of a hand divine, 
 Disrobed of its cumbersome garments, 
 
 In its peerless worth to shine. 
 Her soul's worth was all unheeded 
 
 By those who knew her least. 
 But those who her council pleaded 
 Ever found in her presence a feast. 
 
 She never swerved from her duty. 
 
 No matter how hard to bear ; 
 Her soul was the outgrowth of beauty 
 
 And her crown set with diamonds rare-. 
 
 She filled her chalice with flowers. 
 
 Fresh from the evergreen plain ; 
 Then scattered them out with a loving hand 
 
 To the friends she will meet again. 
 
 Tho' gone from our sight, she is with us yet, 
 
 And will ever be faithful and trtte ; 
 Tho' high in heaven, her goal she has set 
 
 Her friends she will often review. 
 
 Richly clothed in the robes of virtue 
 Was the soul of our long loved one ; 
 
 And pure as a dewdrop from heaven 
 Ere 'tis kissed by the passionate sun. 
 
 Then why do we weep at her going. 
 When we know she will often return ? 
 
 And why are we prostrate with sorrow 
 
 When she says, "My dear friend, do not 
 mourn !" 
 
158 Ccins of Inspiration. 
 
 JEHOVAH'S REIGN 
 
 Jehovah took the key to spirit realms, 
 And while he sat upon his throne of worlds 
 Unlocked the gates of time's mysterious ways 
 And there beheld a book. A blank it was, 
 But lo, he wrote his name on its title page. 
 He dipped his pen in fire and wrote his name 
 On every world, and then, as if in mockery, 
 He wrote his name on every bird and beast 
 And every creeping thing, from loathsome rep- 
 tiles 
 To downy butterflies and from great suns 
 Unto the tiniest insect that feeds on air. 
 He dipped his pen in rainbow tints and wrote 
 His name upon the storm, and as he turned 
 The last great leaf in nature's book he wrote 
 With his own blood upon the hearts of men 
 The first and last great law, that God is love. 
 Lo, then, with pen of fire Jehovah wrote 
 On every leaf and pagd of his great book 
 That light is life, life God, and God is love. 
 Rut as he sat on his eternal throne 
 And gazed with pride upon the mighty works 
 Of his omnipotence, and watched with care 
 The evolution of each mighty world, 
 His countenance waxed pale, for as he looked 
 O'er the vast trackless waste of endless time 
 He saw some laws which he had thought in- 
 vincible 
 Begin to fade and die. Some worlds turned pale 
 Within their wayward course and then seemed 
 
 lost 
 In realms of Erebus. Others swelled and. 
 swerved, 
 
Gems of lusl^inUlon. 159 
 
 Then staggered and fell back, and seemed to die 
 From lack of light, and some did burst their 
 
 bonds 
 And became as nought within the Master's 
 
 hands. 
 Then God took up the pen of Father Time 
 And wrote on every page of Nature's book, 
 "Change and exchange is the sealed mystery 
 Of God's eternal truth and harmony." 
 But man was blind because of his transgression, 
 And could not see the mutual exchange 
 Of great Jehovah's wealth. And deaf was he 
 Unto the 'still small voice of God within ; 
 Nor could he know that through transgres- 
 sion he 
 Must walk on thorns. Nor could he see as yet 
 That when his soul clamored for bread it would 
 Receive a stone. Nor could his thirst l)e quenched 
 For he had turned the nectar of his life 
 Into a sieve, and soon the fount went dry. 
 He cheaply sold his claims on paradise 
 To pay the forfeit of his rude transgression, 
 For nature knows no discount in her terms. 
 But pays the last percentage of her debts ; 
 And tho' she's liberal with her richest store 
 She's ever frugal with her ways and means. 
 She moulds organic life to suit herself, 
 Then forms a law to suit each moulded germ. 
 She knows no up nor down, no high nor low ; 
 No great nor small, no time nor space knows 
 
 she ; 
 But all that she has been, all that she is 
 And all that she can be in heaven or earth, 
 Through endless time, through all unbounded 
 
 space. 
 Is hemmed about bv the invincible 
 
i6o Ccnis of Inspiration. 
 
 Yet ever changing laws of evolution. 
 
 But man in his conceited wisdom snatched 
 
 The key from out Jehovah's hand, and locked 
 
 The golden gates of paradise against 
 
 The evolution of his soul ; then formed 
 
 Himself a law (a low% debasing law) 
 
 That banished from his oreast the living God, 
 
 And fed his sensual appetite on husks. 
 
 Then taught his children 'twas a holy law, 
 
 And flung the lie into Jehovah's teeth 
 
 By telling them the man-made law was God's. 
 
 And so the law of unrequicted love 
 
 Is now imposed upon the human race. 
 
 And we are told 'tis conjugal felicity. 
 
 It may be possible for man to be 
 
 Deceived by mortal man, but never God. 
 
 Can man eat poison serpent for a fish 
 
 And know it not, or gnaw a stone for bread? 
 
 Nor can w^e drink from God's eternal fount 
 
 The unadulterated wine of life. 
 
 Except we open first the ponderous doors 
 
 Of charnel houses where poor madmen rave. 
 
 And batter down the bolted iron doors 
 
 Of prison houses where chained felons pine 
 
 In the dark, murky gloom of solitude. 
 
 And cleanse wath unfeigned love and liberty 
 
 The whited sepulchre of every human soul. 
 
 But lo, the door swings back ; the flickering light 
 
 Of heaven's morning dawns. "The Great I Am'^ 
 
 Fans the dying embers of earth's darkest night 
 
 Into a blazened oriental morn. 
 
 The God of Jacob walks again with men. 
 
 The light and glory of redeeming power. 
 
 Which Boanerges scattered to the wind. 
 
 Shines once again upon the courts of love. 
 
 Woman has paid the price of martyred love. 
 
Gems of luspiralioii. ] 6 1 
 
 And now she seeks redress. Man, too, repels 
 The sparkhng ruby soul-destroying wine. 
 The ship of state in the celestial spheres 
 Has weighed her ancher in the troubled deep 
 Of Esau's darkest night. Again the Lord 
 Proclaims that as in transgression all have died, 
 In the fulfilling all shall live again, 
 Forever to proclaim the love and joy 
 Of every soul beneath Jehovah's reign. 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 POEMS FOR THE FEW. 
 
 OR 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF THE HEAVENS. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Shakespeare spoke a vital truth when he said : 
 "There are more things in heaven and earth. Horatio, 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." 
 
 We feel safe in saying that there are separate classes 
 of spiritual molecules in the astral ether (which we 
 usually from habit call God) which we should, how- 
 ever, call God's, and these spiritual molecules fill all 
 space and vibrate with the physical molecules of our 
 brain, and, in fact, every atom of our body, and these 
 spirit molecules govern each characteristic of every in- 
 dividual to some extent, but they vibrate more largely 
 with organisms whose tastes and spiritual capacities 
 are potentially unfolded. 
 
 In "Paradise Lost and Found'" we have shown the 
 vibrations of many of those nivthical gods, and their 
 
Gcuis of Inspiration. 163 
 
 Shakespeare spoke a vital truth when he said : 
 ''There are more things in heaven and earth. Horatio. 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." 
 
 We feel safe in saying that there are separate classes 
 of spiritual molecules in the astral ether (which we 
 usually from habit call God) which we should, how- 
 ever, call God's, and these spiritual molecules fill all 
 space and vibrate with the physical molecules of our 
 brain, and, in fact, every atom of our body, and these 
 spirit molecules govern each characteristic of every in- 
 dividual to some extent, but they vibrate more largely 
 with organisms wdiose tastes and spiritual capacities 
 are potentially unfolded. 
 
 In "Paradise Lost and Found'' we have shown the 
 vibrations of many of those mythical gods, and their 
 vibratory effect upon each other, and also upon the 
 children of earth, for what affects the earth affects her 
 children also; so we've shown the affect as bearing 
 upon the earth more especially, because the earth is the 
 mother of her children. We have given the names of 
 many of the gods and goddesses by showing their in- 
 fluence upon the spiritual plains of the stellar fields. 
 
 Do you call this mythical ? if so, you are right ; for 
 mythology, when blended with the spiritual esse of the 
 starry constellations of Oriental birth, is one of the 
 grandest truths ever conceived by man ; but no one 
 can see its harmonious beauties unless they can grasp 
 the cabalistic keys of occultism and unlock the mystic 
 doors of the heavens. 
 
 If you say it is chimerical, that is another thing; for 
 chimera is limited to our own morbid and worldy con- 
 dition and fancies. 
 
 With us the partaking of the forbidden fruit is one 
 with Pandora's box, only the ancient sages used differ- 
 ent symbols to expound the same truths. 
 
 Both of those mvthical stories show what our earth 
 
164 Gems of Inspiralioii. 
 
 vibratory effect upon each other, and also upon the 
 children of earth, for what affects the earth affects her 
 children also ; so we've shown the affect as bearing 
 upon the earth more especially, because the earth is the 
 mother of her children. We have given the names of 
 many of the gods and goddesses by showing their in- 
 fluence upon the spiritual plains of the stellar fields. 
 
 Do you call this mythical ? if so, you are right ; for 
 mythology, when blended with the spiritual esse of the 
 starry constellations of Oriental birth, is one of the 
 grandest truths ever conceived by man ; but no one 
 can see its harmonious beauties unless they can grasp 
 the cabalistic keys of occultism and unlock the mystic 
 <ioors of the heavens. 
 
 If 3^ou say it is chimerical, that is another thing; for 
 chimera is limited to our own morbid and worldy con- 
 dition and fancies. 
 
 With us the partaking of the forbidden fruit is one 
 with Pandora's box, only the ancient sages used differ- 
 ent symbols to expound the same truths. 
 
 Both of those mythical stories show what our earth 
 has passed through while wading through the dark 
 slums of the Adamic age. in other words, the animal 
 ages of recorded history and the cold-blooded barbar- 
 ism of not only ancient but of modern times. 
 
 Mrs. M. M. Sisco. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 165 
 
 HIDDEN KEYS 
 
 Oh, would that 1 could grasp the key to stellar 
 plains 
 And unlock the bolted door of heaven's secret 
 lore, 
 And view the wondrous beauties of those vast 
 domains 
 Which each and every world of light now 
 holds in store. 
 
 But as well might the worm that crawls beneath 
 the sod 
 Try to grasp the key that unlocks the prison 
 door 
 Of my poor pinioned soul that came from God ; 
 Albeit, 'tis steeped in ignorance when it would 
 soar 
 
 Through the unending paths of everlasting 
 space ; 
 If only it were to catch the least small glim- 
 mering rav, 
 As it vibrates o'er the starry planes from place 
 to place, 
 While gathering light to lead it on its hidden 
 way. 
 
 But, oh, this darkness, what will I ever, ever ken 
 Of the eternal laws that guide those ever mov- 
 ing spheres, 
 And holds each world and leads it in its wonted 
 line 
 Without the smallest thought of doubts or 
 fears. 
 
i66 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Or would that T miglit even grasp the hidden 
 key 
 That unlocks the store house of old pr] ittcring^ 
 Sol. 
 And analyze the heat and light that comes to me, 
 And holds me in my earthly prison walls. 
 
 But I only know that he shines as a beacon light, 
 To guide the children of his fair solar glitter- 
 ing woof. 
 Leading them all by his eternal power and pomp- 
 ous might, 
 Grantingto all and each, a grand maternal roof. 
 
 I only know that each world walks within its 
 beaten path, 
 True to old Sol, and true to its own domains 
 of life and light. 
 Nor clashes with other system within the milk-A' 
 path, 
 Or boasts in shoddy sophestry, of greater 
 power and might. 
 
 And this much more I certainly must know. 
 That old king Sol will ever hold h^'s knighted 
 reign, 
 And shield his own, from every stellar glittering 
 foe. 
 Along progression's paths of still unfolding 
 gain. 
 
 But, lo ! I cannot even grasp the mysterious key 
 That would unlock the bolted archives of my 
 earthly claims, 
 And I cannot find the secrets the gods have hid 
 away. 
 Which vibrate to the subtile touch of mightier." 
 holier, strains. 
 
CcJiis of Inspiration. 167 
 
 A poor, weak worm, I stand upon the threshhold 
 of the gods. 
 And look along the life-lines of eternal thought. 
 I plead for light, but only find the scathing prods 
 That goad me on, to lessons yet unlearned, un- 
 taught. 
 
 I cannot even grasp the finite key to my own soul, 
 Or unlock the secrets which should be mine in 
 thought. 
 Nor see the possibilities that lead me toward the 
 goal, 
 Which only with the mystic ages can be 
 bought. 
 
 So I have long to labor yet and long to wait, 
 
 In supercilious ignorance and gaunt despair; 
 Though I pine in shackles at the portals of God's 
 gate, 
 I find no key w^ith which to unlock the door to 
 wisdom's stair. 
 
 But Ikiiowl that in all the hidden eons yet to 
 come. 
 The gods will turn each key within its lock, 
 And ope the halls wdiere wisdom's silent loom 
 Is plying the shuttles, at which we were won't 
 to meek. 
 
 Then w^e will see the molecules of heaven's spirit 
 web, 
 And count the colors of those mystic vibratory 
 threads, 
 That every act of carnal life has blended in that 
 web, 
 And dyed the warp of life's eternal woven 
 threads, 
 
1 68 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 That leads the conscious soul on its upward way, 
 While the gods who hold the keys unlock each 
 door 
 And let us in. But every key is formed of carnal 
 clay ; 
 The lock is clutched by vibrant molecules ever- 
 more. 
 
 And so we yield the conflict to that fairy land, 
 So infinitely great we know not of its growing 
 morn, 
 And yet those molecules pin us down by each 
 hair. 
 Then hide the keys, the while we face the fetid 
 storm. 
 
 But when the ego passes from out those carnal 
 chains, 
 Our higher-self thrills with the touch of laws 
 before unclaimed, 
 The veil is lifted that conceals those broad do- 
 mains. 
 And like the bird our spirit soars to loftier 
 heights unchained, 
 
 To drink from the never failing fountain of the 
 gods 
 Sweet peace and rest, or drift o'er seas of liquid 
 light. 
 In sweet companionship with those whom they 
 may choose. 
 While spirit responds to spirit through mystic 
 waves so bright, 
 
 Sweet emblems of a holy love divine that's ever" 
 born 
 
Gems of Iiispii'dfion. 169 
 
 Of wisdom's occult gems hidden in life's po- 
 tential stream. 
 So when the spirit returns again to its moulded 
 
 house of clay, 
 Then it will reach a higher state wherein to dream 
 
 Of the luxurious growth of ever varying spirit 
 plains 
 Where each and every change new wisdom 
 gives to all. 
 And each new thought is ever filled with mightier 
 gains 
 Whicli the ego nuist grasp ere it can heed an- 
 other worldly call 
 
 Back to some planet, to pass the hud and hloom, 
 Of another incarnation which nuist and will 
 bring forth, 
 Another journey through God's prolific varying 
 loom 
 For which Lachesis spun the threads of grow- 
 ing worth. 
 
 CUPID'S YOKE 
 
 Cupid, where hast thou been, what aileth thee? 
 Hast thou been bound by some blind JBartimeus 
 Who sits by the way-side begging for a crumb, 
 Or has stern custom mained thy spirit wings ? 
 Come, let me see, thou dove, what aileth thee ; 
 For w^ell I know that some rough, treacherous 
 
 hand 
 Hath wounded thee in head or heart or wing, 
 And jeopardized thy selfhood in the fray. 
 But come and let me pour the ethereal balm of 
 
 truth 
 
170 CcJiis of Inspiration. 
 
 Into thy bleeding wound, where'er it be. 
 And stop the flow of blood by spirit balm, 
 And the fulfilling of all spirit laws. 
 For be it understood I am no dog 
 Feeding upon the worldly, morbid crumbs 
 That fell through the deadly mists of ignorance 
 Into the putrid valley of discontent. 
 From ofif the Master's well filled ample board 
 I dine with deity, and well I know 
 That every god of love must do the same. 
 They cannot thrive upon the meager crumbs 
 Of earth's material and live as dupes, 
 Without some wound to crucify their life. 
 But not to death for Cupid is of Deity, 
 And cannot die. It has been said "One way 
 Alone can love be killed, that is, starvation. 
 It cannot be burned, strangled, drowned nor 
 
 frozen. 
 Nor even starved past resurrection. 
 For with his quivering bow and psychic dart 
 The little god of love moves worlds, and is 
 Invincible even to the touch of lips. 
 Thy form has touched me, lovely Cupid boy 
 And like the flowing breath of Deity 
 You spoke so gently to my lonely heart 
 That I found within the presence of thy wings 
 There is no emptiness. Above, below, 
 And all around the stars, no emptiness. 
 Indeed the pjumage of thy wings sheds light 
 Throughout the universe of undying worlds, 
 F'en to the touch of hands and fading cheeks. 
 
 Now that my eyes are opened to the light 
 
 I look upon a boundless sea of beauty. 
 
 A sea unfathomable, without a shore. 
 
 And thundering floods of silence come floating in 
 
 Through the unbroken chains of reciprocity; 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 171 
 
 For immortality dwells in space and thou, 
 
 My Cupid, art immortal when, unfettcrd 
 
 Thou sweepst across those seas of eons where 
 
 walk 
 The upright, shadowy forms of human minds 
 Along the etheral spaces from world to world. 
 Thy deep soul throbs in the pulse of the eternal 
 Poised in the potency of thine outstretched wings 
 Which bear the shuttle through the eternal w^eb 
 Of ever-living more than mortal love, 
 Where the Great Mother Nature has d'^ftlv hung 
 The veil of Isis which no hand has raised 
 Nor ever can until poor, weeping Terra 
 Breaks Cupid's yoke and walks forth a Madonna, 
 And casts the crowns of thorns which her chil- 
 dren wear 
 Low at her feet, and thus removes the veil 
 (Which blinds and cripples thee, my Cupid bov), 
 And thus permits the power of harmonies 
 To reach the spiritual, responsive lives 
 Of Terra's hosts, and show them living truths 
 Ami the rest and beauty of thy folded wings. 
 When wilt thou light upon her naked breast, 
 And pierce with the arrow of thy spirit love 
 The fabulous folds of all her formal arts. 
 And the stale customs of twelve thousand years 
 Which only serves as meat for dogs, not gods, 
 To feed upon ? For we are rambling, lost 
 In the stagnant waters of irresponsive lust 
 Which flood the darkened wilderness of sin. 
 
 But thou art here again, 'mid Terra's hosts. 
 And many are drinking from thy welcome -halice 
 A healing draught for all life's bitter woes. 
 
72 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 THE REAL LIFE 
 
 Well, here we are again in prisoner's chains 
 Wrestling with the toils and cares of an earthly 
 
 hfe, 
 Reeling and staggering beneath our load 
 That time has laid upon primeval man. 
 And calls it life. If this be life we live 
 In vain, for truly there's no life in tears. 
 Nor in the golden chains that fetter our lives 
 Till nothing but a smouldering mass attests 
 That we still try to live, but live a lie. 
 Oh, roll your rounds, eternal eons, roll 
 And watch with pitying eye this earthly spark 
 Which seems so dearly bought by some of us 
 Who call it life, and truly seem to think 
 'Tis all the life there is. But could they see 
 As with an adept's clear and mystic eye 
 The retrospective scenes of spirit realms 
 Which once were theirs as their inherent right 
 E're they were earthward drawn, they'd see at 
 
 once 
 That this is not the real life, but only 
 A prison home, where we must learn the wisdom 
 To view with critic's eye our present life. 
 And view through God's material spectroscope 
 All sad events which seem so hard to bear. 
 And watch their shades to see whereof tliey're 
 
 made. 
 And l)y what and whom they were promoted. 
 And what they weigh when they are once com- 
 pared 
 With the karma of their last incarnate life. 
 And what the final loss or gain^ has been. 
 If loss, we must recrain what we have lost; 
 
Gems of Iiispiratioii. 173 
 
 If gain, we're one step higher and must move on 
 To grasp the truths that the gods have laid away 
 For us to ponder when we shall learn the way 
 To reach those themes. But lo ! alas, we're way- 
 ward 
 (Stubborn, if you will) and vex the Ego 
 Until it sends us back to earth again 
 To pay with interest all the debts we owe 
 Ere we can grasp the sacred astral truths 
 Of God's own universal peace and love. 
 Which tho' 'tis rest it surely is active work 
 Which the Ego cannot grasp except it first 
 Shall beat its unfledg'd wings against the bars 
 That hold it dow^n to its indebtedness 
 Which God designed to mark our upward course. 
 And where the Ego leads us toward the goal, 
 Upon a sea of life and light so smooth 
 That the Ego scarcely knows w^hereon it glides, 
 Or that it moves, save for the growing light 
 That doth envelope it. And yet it growls 
 From day to day while yet chut in its house of 
 
 clay. 
 For e'en our sins, tho' sad they seem, 
 Do fertilize the soil which pushes forth 
 The Ego toward a new and growing light, 
 Where labor in itself is perfect rest. 
 For its action Is so perfect, pure and free 
 It does not seem a motion of itself, 
 Save by its grow^th. Look at the growing tree, 
 It moves not to our eyes, yet year by year, 
 Each circle speaks of a more perfect growth. 
 And yet the tree stands still, except 'tis swayed 
 By the rough wands as mortal life is swayed 
 By worldly bickerings and sordid care. 
 These are not detrimental to its growth, 
 But help it glean/ bright gems from sad experi- 
 ence 
 
1/4 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Which at the time luring only grief and pain, 
 
 Smooth hew them as we may. But hke the toad, 
 
 Whose head contains a gem of vital worth 
 
 So our misdeeds are a diamond in the rough, 
 
 By which the Ego profits in its flight. 
 
 So that our next incarnate life will be 
 
 Of purer glow and brighter intellect. 
 
 Thus we (at times) pass on unfetter'd by flesh, 
 
 Knowing no thought of space save when we grate 
 
 Against our mortal carnal prison walls. 
 
 While w^ondering at our mishaps and our griefs, 
 
 Forgetting that in some gross previous life 
 
 We danced with joy and now must pay the bill : 
 
 For truth is just in every crook and turn 
 
 And balances her means to meet her ends. 
 
 Primeval man has just begun to learn 
 
 That thoughts are things and fly like birds of air 
 
 And pierce like pointed swords the souls they 
 
 reach 
 And that they ever lodge where they are sent. 
 So while we are here again in the mortal form 
 Throwing our silvery darts of joy and love 
 To some dear friend who lives in a far off clime 
 Or whetting our javelins of hate and scorn 
 That we may pierce anew some half heal'd wound 
 Which has been rent before, let us beware, 
 And wait the coming of another mortal life 
 But list, w^e hear the hammer of Vulcan's forge 
 And while we cannot forge the strokes, let us dip 
 
 our thoughts 
 Into the silver chalice of the gods which still 
 Runs o'er with a soothing balm for human ills, 
 Tf we'll but use it. So let each mould a chalice 
 And fill it to the brim till it nms o'er 
 With heaven's prolific balm of deathless love 
 Wlu'ch must propel the Fgo in its flight. 
 
GcjJis of Inspiration. 175 
 
 Yet while we walk the earth mid thorns and 
 
 flowers, 
 (Where there is much of beauty and of crime) 
 Devoid of light, devoid of reason too, 
 Devoid of all the charms that heaven holds dear, 
 Time seems a cruel messenger of woes 
 That cast their shadows on us before they come 
 Or a cruel tell-tale of the dismal past 
 To warn us to prepare for a loftier flight. 
 Time does not fly. There's no such thing as time. 
 All, all of life comes within the broad domains 
 Of the eternal. Earth-cares flit across our path- 
 way 
 Just as the finest mote flits in the sunbeams, 
 The brighter the sunbeams the larger the mote 
 
 appears. 
 And thus, the finer that the soul becomes 
 In its life, the greater its misdeeds appear. 
 Until the soul is weighed down by regrets, 
 And prays to leave again this earthly slough, 
 That the' Ego may dine once more with Gods, and 
 
 drink 
 From its own cup the truths of real life. 
 On would it press to realms of blissful joy 
 Of dual love clothed in the pure white robes 
 Of bride aud groom, proclaiming once more to 
 
 God 
 Their youthful love, which they were wont to 
 
 count 
 On earth in later years as wasted life, 
 Forgetting there is no waste of spirit life. 
 Which is a part of God, forever new. 
 
176 Gems of hispiraliou. 
 
 IS GOD WITH US NOW? 
 
 If we are not a part of the stellar God, 
 What, then, are we ? Do we belong to earth ? 
 Are we to view those lovely orbs of night 
 And yearn to grasp their all-pervading rays, 
 Yet holding all the while ni listless hands 
 This little ball of clay, and pressing it 
 Close to our hearts ? If we are spirit molecules 
 And kindred to the ever-living gods 
 ]\Iust we look o'er those fields of mystic light 
 And own those starry plains forbidden ground 
 Where we should lose our steps in a flammg maze 
 If we should seek to thread their labyrmtli ? 
 
 What are we but a part of God ? Where seek 
 
 Our record in the eternal book of life 
 
 If not in the starry deeps? x\nd when and where 
 
 Did life begin if it began at all, 
 
 And when and where is the end ? If this life here 
 
 Upon this baby earth is all there be. 
 
 What liave we gained by it? What is life worth, 
 
 And how much better is our earth that we 
 
 Have lived and toiled in ignorance to deck 
 
 Her yielding breast, acting the part of grooms 
 
 To polish up her verdant cona^ex coat ? 
 
 If she is bettered, then 'tis well, but where's 
 
 Our recompense? Confine us to this earth. 
 
 And what are we but floating, flimsy motes 
 
 Ouivering vaguely in the smallest space. 
 
 Without one pulse of upward-tending life? 
 
 If God confines our incarnations here 
 
 To this small earth, w^hat are we more than 
 
 beasts. 
 Whose spirits escaping sink to earth again? 
 
Gciiis of Inspirafioii. 177 
 
 My faith is that as a spirit molecule 
 
 In the living heart-l)lood of the gods forever 
 
 'Tis mine to drift through every artery 
 
 Of secret, ever expanding thought, that vibrates 
 
 Unceasingly through aeons that are past 
 
 And aeons yet to come. And yet this hour 
 
 Alone is mine. I nmst grope among the throes 
 
 Of gasping agony, or march by the light 
 
 Of wisdom's torch, which leads us on 'mid isles 
 
 That once were black as Egypt's darkest night, 
 
 Now radiant realms where love is ever law 
 
 And life is king. 
 
 This hour alone is mine. 
 It is a milestone on my upward path, 
 And it is all of life. Eternity 
 Is now and ever will be now. For us 
 It is to ask of hfe's potential powers 
 That they guide us onward. If we backward look, 
 What do we see ? Simply a darkened valley 
 Where prisoners fret and moan and gnash their 
 teeth. 
 
 Ye gods ! What beauty is there in the present? 
 Yet in it is a livid spark from life's 
 Eternal torch, which, while we yet behold 
 Will change it into something fair and bright 
 Even as the blood from vile Medusa's veins 
 Changed into Pegasus, the flying steed. 
 
 We may look back if we can bear the sight. 
 
 But back we cannot go. We must move on. 
 
 Before us stands a castle built in air, 
 
 Which in our mortal shape we ne'er can enter, 
 
 For, as we near the spot where it appeared, 
 
 It has passed on and left us. Look as we may 
 
 Alono- life's fairv web of many lives. 
 
178 Cciiis of Inspiration. 
 
 When once we grasp the tint we most admired, 
 It seems less bright, and far beyond our reach 
 Another tempts our efforts. 
 
 Ah hfe throbs 
 With the universal heart-beat, which sustains 
 All intellects in heaven's unmeasured space 
 And leads each soul toward the Omn'iscient light. 
 Along the path whose windings suit it best, 
 But end there is not. Only now is ours, 
 And now is what we make it, nothing more. 
 One day is as thousand y^ars with God, 
 And a thousand years are as one day with us. 
 Shall we, like Mary, choose the better part 
 And make the now a day of glowing l:)eauty 
 By breaking tyranny's chains that bind us down? 
 Or shall we lift, like Alartha, needless burdens. 
 Then cringe and fret and moan beneath tlie load 
 And thus receive the censure of the gods, 
 Rejectmg the draught which they have mixed 
 
 for us 
 To drink with them in the eternal xow ? 
 
 GIVE US LIGHT 
 
 My God, is there no food to satisfy 
 
 This innate longing of the immortal soul, 
 
 No ray of light to guide these faltering feet? 
 
 Is there no little stream of psychic light 
 
 Flowing from out the fountain of the gods 
 
 With which to slake this withering, burning 
 
 thirst ? 
 Is there no way to trace the endless folds 
 Of the universjil starry vale of truths? 
 Ye gods, annihilate my soul or else 
 B)id me to come ns an invited euest. 
 
Gems of Iiispirafioii. 179 
 
 And eat with you the dainty food ye eat, 
 And drink from out your cup the wine of hfe. 
 I hate these earthly husks of nothingness ; 
 Ah, worse than nothingness they are to me 
 When my soul is starving for the hread of life. 
 If my soul was made in the image of its god 
 Whv is it bound by all these worldly toys ? 
 Why can it not reach out and grasp the truths, 
 The invincible truths of other worlds, while yet 
 Imprisoned in its house of clay, and bring 
 From God's eternal realms of mystic light 
 Germs that may satisfy the soul's great needs? 
 Why are we ignorant of our own powers 
 Of what we are and what we yet may be? 
 God pity us and help us pierce the l"ght 
 That shines forth from the heavenly orient, 
 To pluck the apples of Hesperides. 
 Whose seed are gems of wisdom new to us, 
 And sow them broadcast o'er this burning waste 
 Of hungering, longing souls who seek the truth 
 W'hich leads us on, yet still eludes our grasp. 
 Long, long we've watch'd and waited for the gods 
 To pour the balm of Gilead o'er our brain. 
 Bathing our spirit with wisdom's sacred oil 
 And our searching eyes with rays of diamond 
 
 tints. 
 Long, long we've bowed our heads in writhing 
 
 agony, 
 Watching and waiting for the mystic light 
 (Which the gods have rolled together like a scroll 
 And hung above the ages of earth's dark night) 
 To burst its bonds and give us light to see 
 How far we've blunder'd o'er our mortal rocks. 
 Plow many leaves in our book of life were turned. 
 While we were viewing with sighs and tears and 
 
 moans 
 Our torn feet, palsied brain and bleeding heart. 
 
i8o Gems of lusplnition. 
 
 But lo! those mystic clouds (which hung so dark 
 Over our chain'd and ever murmuring souls) 
 Are the unbolted gateway of heaven's morn 
 Which have been locked for ages in the past. 
 But when the gods unlock those heavenly gates 
 All customs, creeds and all beliefs will change 
 Into omniscient beams of living truths 
 From mimic oceans, in whose beds profound 
 The Oracles have planted the yielding seeds 
 Of that fair queen of heavenly flow^ers, ''The 
 
 Lotus," 
 Which will convey us on in its golden heart 
 O'er the unfathomable depths of wisdom's seas, 
 Smooth as the silvery orbs from Wilcan's fires 
 And brilliant as Minerva's glittering shield, 
 And swift as Mercurie's feet that w^alk on air, 
 While his winged cap sits aslant upon his brow 
 As he views w^ith watchful eyes the lotus bud, 
 Knowing its roots are deep in mortal clay 
 And knowing, too, that it blooms eternally 
 And w^ill carry us safely o'er seas of spirit light 
 As smooth as moulded glass w^ithout one ripple 
 To disturb our Ego's coming truth-born joys. 
 For the promise is made that we shall dine with 
 
 gods 
 And drink sweet nectar from life's fount 
 Of ever-living, never-failing joy 
 And universal love, forever flovving, 
 WHiich never has been sealed, but only screened 
 From mortal eyes, and is reserved for us 
 When w^e have reached our goal and won the 
 
 prize. 
 
Gems of J iispiralion. 181 
 
 WHAT NEXT? 
 
 Of course there was a time, as ages run, 
 When this world was an embryonic germ, 
 Gross and uncouth within the moulder's hands 
 As if the potter's clay when ground for use. 
 While thus it lay within the massive womb 
 ()i ever-changing, everlasting time, 
 Jt rolled and heaved, one bright tumultuous mass, 
 Then stopped for a brief space, then rolled and 
 
 heaved again. 
 And tried to roll itself into a ball. 
 But lo ! 'twas filled with chasms which for years 
 Were filled with darkness so profound and dense 
 As to repel the least advance of light 
 That did surround it as the bridal wreath 
 Surrounds the dark and untold future life 
 Of its fair bride. But as the years went by 
 Other and more mature convulsions rose 
 From out the deep, dark, yawning, endless gulfs 
 And they were closed with one spasmodic groan 
 More bitter than the moans of devils damned. 
 And then another great tumultuous throb, 
 A great terrific wail (but only heard 
 By other worlds) arose and other gulfs 
 Did open wide their jaws as if to drink 
 The molten light that ever round them flowed. 
 While earth lay thus within; the womb of time 
 Struggling for life and struggling to be free 
 The sun was brought to bear upon its birth 
 And then the throes increased to agony, 
 For as the light increased so did the pains. 
 -A few more great upheavals, a few more moans 
 That shook the tide of time from base to dome 
 And millions of worlds did shake their heads and 
 
 weep 
 
i82 Gems of / nspiratioii. 
 
 Witli one accord, and suns to darkness turned. 
 When lo, behold a baby world was born ! 
 Of course it was not quite a perfect world. 
 For there were deep, dark chasms to be closed 
 And gastric fluids that must be withdrawn 
 By sad convulsions, earthquakes and the like. 
 But then, it was a sturdy, robust babe, 
 Able to go its own orbital rounds. 
 It did rejoice in its own active life 
 And able it was to draw its chemic force 
 And light from other worlds. And now it lies 
 A bright and smiling child in the lap of time, 
 But like the child of man/ it must ever take 
 The bitter with the sweet. For tho' 'tis bright 
 And fair and covered o'er with lovely smiles, 
 Its throes of pain extend from pole to pole. 
 And in its burning thirst it swallows up 
 Great oceans even as doth the teething child 
 In its feverish thirst gulp down a cup of water 
 Then gnashes between its burning, swollen gums 
 Great cities, as the little suffering child 
 Gnashes its gums upon its rubber ring 
 Or mother's breast. So, as the ages pass 
 And roll their rounds thro' everlasting space 
 There is a universal law which says. 
 No gold can be refined except by fire. 
 No rose can bloom except it burst its bud. 
 No seed can grow except it burst the mould. 
 No child be born except thro' anguish wild. 
 No earth unfold except it drink the draught 
 Of bitterness. No garment can be made 
 Unless the web be cut ; no mind unfold 
 Except the forked darts of fiery tongues 
 Shall pierce it through and through, 
 P>ut after dissonance comes harmony's 
 I'right. sparkling little cup of untold joys 
 
Gems of Iiisl^irafioii. 183 
 
 Filled to the brim, a never-failing fount. 
 
 Able to satiate all the laws of life 
 
 From thirsty worlds to drooping little flowers, 
 
 And from the vast unending plains 
 
 Of spirit worlds unto the minds of men. 
 
 But why at times those pams we have to bear ? 
 
 We do not know. But still it seems a law 
 
 Hidden within the eternal course of thmgs 
 
 That all of nature's works must bear the pams 
 
 Of birth, then suffer on through growth, and 
 
 bear 
 The pains of death and die. 
 
 And then what next? 
 Next come to man the grand unfolding laws 
 Of spirit life, which first appears to be 
 A cold, unbroken plain of nothingness. 
 For, as he looks around he cannot see 
 The least small object to break its barrenness 
 Nor hear one sound, for there is nought to make 
 A sound, except himself, and he can make 
 No sound, because there's nought to hear the 
 
 sound. 
 Not e'en a little bird, a crawling worm, 
 No tree nor hill to give the echo back. 
 While thus he stands upon the endless w^aste 
 Of nothingness, and prays that he may see 
 A tree or liill cr cloud within the sky, 
 A little brook with bright and pebbly bed 
 Or e'en a little flower, a blade of grass, 
 Some little thing on which to rest the eye. 
 And prays that he to nothingness be turned. 
 He looks beyond, beyond and still beyond, 
 Where it would seem impossible for eye 
 To reach, beyond this vast unending waste, 
 For something that the eye can fix upon 
 While sight is lengthened to its longest range. 
 
184 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Oh joy of joys, behold there comes a change ! 
 
 A cloud arises and though 'tis black with rage 
 
 'Tis better than this morbid, en/Jless plain 
 
 Of nothmgness. And as the cloud moves on 
 
 It blacker grows with rage and with its wrath 
 
 Gathers much strength and power. 
 
 But as he looks, behold the endless waste, 
 
 Not he, has moved ; he stands just where he did. 
 
 And though the cloud is black and threatening, 
 
 And as it nearer comes it breathes of storms, 
 
 Yet as it comes he hails it with a smile 
 
 Of bright and unsophisticated joy, 
 
 For 'tis a something upon which to rest 
 
 The over-weary, over-longing sight. 
 
 But as it comes it black and blacker grows. 
 
 It rolls and heaves, one surging, angry mass, 
 
 As if ten thousand devils were at war, 
 
 Each struggling for the mastery. 
 
 But hark, what sound is that he hears ? 
 
 It sounds as if ten thousand thunderbolts 
 
 Were playing a prelude to the warring elements 
 
 Of devils damned. Or like the swift rumbling 
 
 Of the wheels of time as God drives o'er the 
 
 bridge 
 That spans the gulf 'twixt heaven and hell. 
 But there 'tis finished, the sound has died away. 
 The cloud stands trembling in. its wayward 
 
 course, 
 Then sways and heaves, then lo, behold, it 
 
 breaks. 
 
 And then what next ? 
 Now comes a light from bright ambrosial plains, 
 Where those who fled from earth long years ago 
 Have studied well each page in nature's book, 
 And as each leaf was turned by wisdom's bards. 
 Who had prssed on still years and years before. 
 
Gems of liispiralioiL 185 
 
 They have learned their lessons well. 
 For as each leaf was turned by wisdom's hand 
 It was aglow with beauties rich and rare 
 And costly gems of bright and heavenly birth 
 Which no mam standing on the plane below 
 Could see or comprehend. And the lone soul 
 Who stands before the broken cloud of darkness 
 Begins to see the dawn of spirit light. 
 For angels' hands are parting wide the cleft 
 And brushing back the mists oa either side, 
 That he may see to walk. For now the scales 
 Are falling from his eyes, and angels come 
 And bathe his poor, weak soul with life's elixir 
 Mixed well with heavenly joys of orient balm. 
 And as they bathe his spirit o'er and o'er 
 With friendship's steady hand, they bring a cup 
 Filled from the fount of everlasting life 
 And give to him to drink. But wisdom's hand 
 Holds firm the cup lest he should drink too deep 
 And drunken be with heaven's wine of life. 
 And as he sips the balmy dews of love 
 He gathers life and strength and hope and jov. 
 But as he looks about he finds the light 
 Is far too strong for his benighted eyes 
 Which all along through his material life 
 Have been o'erlaid with scales of ignorance. 
 So, like the weary child who has been viewing 
 Too long the gaudy hues that pleased his sight, 
 But were too strong for his frail infant eyes, 
 He drops away to sleep and quiet rest. 
 
 And then what next? 
 After the dotage thro' peaceful rest reclaims 
 The scattered forces of his youthful mind. 
 Then comes the awakening to untold joys 
 Which he is able now to understand. 
 So angels take him gently by the hand 
 And lead him on o'er bright and flowerv plains, 
 
i86 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 The very plains on which he tried to se^ 
 Some httle object on which to rest the eyxL, 
 All covered now with rare exotic flowers 
 Of every shape and size and costly hue, 
 From rainbow tints to shades of blackest night ; 
 And where he heard no sound there comes to him 
 A low, sweet strain from the bright silver strings 
 Of heaven's golden harp touched by the joyous 
 
 hands 
 Of happy souls. And as he stands before 
 The happy choir, the last unfolded strain 
 Is lengthened out, and 'neath the massive arch 
 Of heaven's dome it dies away to the last 
 Echo of the low-est strain. 
 
 And then what next? 
 Next in the twinkling of an eye the heavenly 
 
 hosts 
 Have changed their white and pearly robes of 
 
 purity 
 For freedom's costly robes of shining gold 
 Inlaid wnth diamonds rare of nature's truths, 
 Bought with the blood of millions of earth's 
 
 heroes, 
 Earth's fairest, brightest, noblest souls. And 
 
 there 
 Sits lightly on their brows a purple crown 
 Well set with stars of gold and richly decked 
 With rare exotic flowers, and all walk 
 Thro' shady bowers of everlasting green. 
 Leading all those wdio cannot go alone, 
 And teaching blear-eyed ignorance to see 
 The ever-changing scenes of spirit worlds, 
 Which only thro' the unfolded spirit sight 
 Can e'er be know^n. And as the hosts move on 
 In easy garbs of nature's truths they oft 
 Go down in valleys deep and dark (for such 
 There arc in spirit workls) and tlicrc thcv find 
 
Cans of I nspiralioii. 187 
 
 Some poor, discouraged, faltering human soul 
 Who, for the want of spirit strength has fallen 
 By the way. But as they raise him up, they 
 
 strike 
 The shackles from his earth-bound soul, then 
 
 bathe 
 His weary feet with heaven's morning dews, 
 Then! lay him down on beds of fragrant llowers 
 To rest from earthly bickering and strife 
 And gather up the remnants of his worse 
 Than w^asted life. And as they labor thus, 
 Their toils made sweet by aramatic joys, 
 Their souls are strengthened w^ith the bread of 
 
 hfe, 
 Their thirst is quenched from heaven's immortal 
 
 streams 
 Fed from the fount of everlasting bliss. 
 And oft they hold a banquet pure and free 
 Within the flowery groves their hands have set 
 And where with great artistic skill they've 
 
 twined 
 The lily with the rose. And lo, 'tis here 
 At the arched gateway of their banquet halls 
 The earthly chains of custom are unforged 
 And the last link drops from the fettered soul. 
 Here avarice forgets her thirst for gold. 
 Here malice forgets her thirst for sweet revenge, 
 Here disappointment leaves her sable robes 
 WHiich she has trailed thro' earthly filth and mire. 
 And clothes herself in drapery of delight. 
 Here drunkenness is healed of putrid sores 
 Till not one scar is left. Here earth's excesses 
 Cast off their loathsome spots. Here justice 
 
 whets 
 Her sword of living truth and falsehood falls 
 Before her deadly blow. And here earth's chil- 
 dren 
 
i88 Gems of Iiispiralioii. 
 
 Have foiiiid the law of love which sore-eyed 
 
 ignorance 
 Had tried on earth to find, but which the greed 
 Of Mammon stole from her. Here mercy sits 
 And with her royal hand has thrown ajar 
 Sweet freedom's golden gate. Here wisdom sits 
 On her eternal throne, ready to break 
 The seals of the book in wdiich the gods have writ 
 The everchanging, everlasting laws 
 (Which ever must be hid from worldly eyes) 
 With all their suns and all the peopled worlds 
 And all the glorious paths in which they move 
 And the unfoldment of each mighty sphere 
 That holds celestial manna for all needs. 
 Here w^alks eternal life by its opening light, 
 Healed by the brazen serpent of the past, 
 And holds the secrets of God's solar laws 
 Which govern all the myriad spheres that roll 
 Thro' countless realms of never-ending space 
 And serve as footstools for undying time 
 To stand upon while opening up th.e laws 
 That hold the secret byways of omnipotence 
 Hidden in the great archives of the galaxv 
 Filled with the orbits of ten thousand spheres. 
 Each moving w^orld a law^ unto itself. 
 Each speaking a living language all its own. 
 While touched by the finger of a hand divine ; 
 Each singing in a sweet but subtle tone 
 The diapason of God's magic stafif : 
 Each holding in its rounded hand the key 
 To its own life, the central sun its lack. 
 The universes are the massive doors 
 Opening to mansions w'here everv growing soul 
 Is clothed in aroma from heaven's flowery vale. 
 God's hand supplies the boimteous. well-spread 
 
 board ; 
 
Cicnis of lusf^iratiou. 189 
 
 His truths the dainty food all souls must eat; 
 
 Fair unity the cord that holds all worlds 
 
 In measured lines and ever leads them on 
 
 Along lifes ever-flowing river pure 
 
 Where all who will may come and drink their fill. 
 
 And now what next ? 
 Next let us view thro' God's own microscope 
 The crude and tiny spark of human intellect. 
 Which God has scattered round each peopled 
 
 world 
 Like hees around their hives, industrious fools, 
 Seeing naught and caring for naught except 
 The chemic forces of our earthly life ; 
 Content to live within the dusty range 
 Of our stupidity, learning what we may 
 From printed books written by other fools, 
 More keen-eyed, autocratic then ourselves. 
 Who say twice two are four, or three times two 
 Are six, or that a dozen of earth's years 
 Make up a single year for Jupiter, 
 Or that the book of Holy Writ was given 
 By God's inspired scribes to be our guide 
 Whereby the wayfarer though a fool may walk 
 And never err. Tho' all admit 'tis veiled 
 In mystic symbols hidden in the folds 
 Of God's almighty long-sealed mysteries ; 
 And only his own day of ten thousand years 
 And the eternal progress of those days 
 And his long nights by fiery coursers drawn 
 Can e'er blot out man's superficial ignorance 
 By holding strange communion with the gods 
 And ea<"h world's ever-growing spirit light. 
 Which sheds its 1-3 vs on all who beg for them. 
 But lo, this ever-chat-io-ing little spark 
 At first no bigger than a needle's point 
 Tho' ever growing in its eternal course 
 Of intellectual laws from old to new, 
 
IQO Cciiis of hispiration. 
 
 As step l)v stc]) it climl)s the endless stairs. 
 When first 'tis Hashed from the eternal light 
 Appears a senseless thing-, it only knows 
 Enough to eat, or if in pain to ery. 
 It sees without the smallest sense of sight 
 And hears but does not sense the sound it hears. 
 When tired it sleeps, \vhen rested wakes and eats 
 And sleeps again, but nothing more. O soul, 
 Didst know that sometime in the coming years 
 Thou'lt stand upon the threshold of the gods 
 And view the rising of thy spirit sun 
 Gilding Mount Sina's ever-glowing heights 
 Which serves as index to the book of life, 
 Wherein God's wisdom is divinely sealed 
 With seven great seals which even human tears 
 Can never break. But when the time is ripe 
 The lion of Judah's tribe wall leave his lair 
 And come forth roaring in his mighty strength 
 And snap the seals as they were brittle glass 
 And open up the book of starry lore 
 Which God's great day of ten thousand years has 
 
 sealed 
 That all may learn the truth and beauty there 
 Where angels walk in rays of shimmering light 
 From world to w^orld in robes of heavenly peace. 
 But even Leo, with all his starry hosts, 
 Cannot alone with all his mighty train 
 Unseal the ample book of starry lore 
 Save by the aid of Jndah's struggling twins 
 Who WQVQ at birth found grappling for the keys 
 To that great book, the book of whirling worlds 
 Which the veiled ages of antiquity 
 Wrapped in the folds of wisdom's ample cloak 
 And hung by the ages on Moses' tow^ering staff 
 Sealed by God's night of silence and despair. 
 
 And then wdiat next? 
 Sound forth your strains, ye harps (^\ Judali's isle 
 
Gems of his [^{ration. tQT 
 
 For Zarah's dawn flushes the skies alonor 
 The eastern shores of God's great orient day, 
 But cannot scatter the bacchanahan hosts 
 Of earth's dark night till his twin brother Phares 
 Thrusts forth his hand from nature's ample womb 
 And breaks the sixth great seal that wondrous 
 
 seal 
 That opens the book of everlasting life 
 For souls to read by Zarah's morning light 
 That sends its beams to the brows of God's beau- 
 tiful hills 
 Where Judah sits confessed of his great sm 
 While he discerns his signet, bracelets and statt 
 And admits his concubine of purer glow 
 Than even he with all his boasted strength. 
 Lo, thus we see that woman tho' veiled m har- 
 lotry 
 Shall wield the staff and sceptre of the kings 
 And walk forth with the signet on her brow 
 Of welcome motherhood (because she sought 
 The nuptial couch by order of God's law). 
 For woman being God's last and crowning work 
 Was left to be a law unto herself. 
 Hence, she thro' Phares must break Belial's seals 
 Stamped with the tithes of sorrow, sin and death. 
 And when the cords of lust are snaped in twain 
 Zarah will come, clothed in his gorgeous light 
 And touch the mainspring of the seventh great 
 
 seal, 
 When lo, the heavens will roll back like a scroll 
 And woman will walk forth clothed in the knowl- 
 edge 
 Of the gods and the rosy light of their orient day 
 And prove a teacher to all earth's captive hosts. 
 By rending the veil between God's night and day 
 And then proclaim to other worlds afar. 
 The victorv's won. For man has overcome 
 
192 Gi^nis of Inspiration. 
 
 And found the hidden manna of sacred truths 
 Whereby he dines with gods. 
 
 UNIVERSAL UNFOLDMENT 
 
 Light comes to earth's loved ones o'er the beauti- 
 ful plains 
 
 That reach across the milky way 
 To the cosmic light of earth's baby chains 
 
 As she basks in the light of another day ; 
 For she has arisen, 'tis a golden morn, 
 
 One among the few since she saw the light, 
 And she's taking her bath with a touch of scorn 
 
 In the great Euphrates^ so silvery and bright. 
 That flows from the rock which Moses smote 
 
 On an ancient day when Jove was young, 
 When the stars in harmony sang each a note 
 
 And Aquarius poured his light along 
 The highways and byways of starry planes 
 
 Till it sank at last in one moaning sea 
 Of darkness and trouble and sickness and pain, 
 
 O'er which Argo's^ ship sailed fearlessly. 
 Till she came to the shores of God's beautiful hills 
 
 Rich with the fruitage of love's golden grain 
 Where each fair world in Chiron^ trills 
 
 Its silvery note in some sweet refrain. 
 To our baby earth who moans in vain 
 
 For her children who are drown'd in the fatal 
 flood 
 Of sin and sorrow and harrowing pain ; 
 
 E'en to the spilling of pure and holy blood ; 
 But earth's elder brothers are helping her on 
 
 1. Aquarius' watering pot. 
 
 2. Thfi constellation of Argo Navis, Noah's Ark. 
 
 3. Sagittarius. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 193 
 
 To reach the plane of her own promised might 
 And she soon will stand the threshold upon 
 
 Which opens the way to eternal light. 
 Then her children will grasp with unerring hand 
 
 The book of wdsdom God holds in store 
 For them to read, which is perfectly grand 
 
 And filled with the light of eternal lore. 
 And when this book of eternal life 
 
 Is put in earth's hands for her children to read 
 Sorrow and pain and bickering and strife 
 
 Shall cease and a crown be given as meed 
 For earth's travil pains, which will usher in 
 
 The glorious beams of another day, 
 Freed from the throes of hate and sin, 
 Clothed in the tints of Raphael's'* May ; 
 But lo, earth lingers upon the rocks', 
 
 At the very threshold of wisdom's door 
 With trembling hand she stands and knocks 
 
 At the gate of Hercules^ strong and pure. 
 Cleansed by the potent healing powers 
 
 Of the wand Esculapius^ holds in his strong 
 Right hand while the venemous serpent cowers 
 
 In his left bereft of all poignant fold. 
 Thus earth stands redeemed on time's rolling tide 
 
 Baptized in the hues of her own roseate now ; 
 She has drawn the veil of her own night aside 
 
 That the spirit world may see why and how 
 The ocean of truth throws its light o'er the way 
 
 To our own loved earth and her spirit spheres. 
 And the gem of truth nature stored away 
 
 To be our shield in the coming years, 
 Has arisen out of the dark, cold night 
 
 Of superstition's malignant slime 
 
 4. The constellation of Esculapius, the Grid of Medicine. 
 
 5. The strength and purity which vibrates our earth from 
 Hercules. 
 
 6. The healer, or Raphael, in the Bible defined physic. 
 
194 Cciiis of Iiispiralioii. 
 
 Where error and folly walk forth in their might, 
 
 And wage a war wath all that's divine ; 
 So we make no appeal to the powers that be, 
 
 But stand near the gateway with folded hands 
 While the glorious laws of eternity 
 
 Are unfolded to us by our spirit bands. 
 But one thought comes home to our soul to-night, 
 
 The beautiful thought of a soul made free, 
 When the death angel clothed in zephyrs white 
 
 Shall lead us on to maturity. 
 When this chrysalis chain shall be rent in twain 
 
 And the soul made free as the bird on the wing 
 To seek the paths of the starry plains 
 
 And drink with the gods at nature's spring ; 
 When the trundling cares of life shall cease 
 
 And poverty's door be closed for aye, 
 When we drink at the fount of joy and peace 
 
 In the light and the love of our spirit day ; 
 Then each weary soul w'ill bound with joy 
 
 At the low, sweet chord of the heavenly choir, 
 And the pulse keep time to Apollo's" strains 
 
 As his hand sweeps gently over the lyre. 
 Oh, this thought comes home to the weary heart 
 
 With a twofold power of hope and love, 
 That poverty's chains will bear no part 
 
 In our future labors in the realms above. 
 One hope comes home to our soul to-night. 
 
 The beautiful hope that earth wars arc past, 
 That the monarch sw^ord by use made bright 
 
 Will into plowshares be turned at last ; 
 That no more blood will cry from the ground, 
 
 Because of heresy's fabulous laws. 
 That no more kings with gold shall be crowned 
 
 In the redeeming light of a holv cause. 
 One love comes home to our soul to-night. 
 
 7. The God of Music; the constellation of Sagittarius. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 195 
 
 The love of the hiuman made (Hviiie 
 By the law of equity, justice and truth 
 
 And their worship at nature's holy shrine ; 
 And the solid phalanx of souls made free 
 
 From the waging of war and the throes of pain, 
 Whose unsealed eyes shall he made to see 
 
 That a bloodless war is their only gain. 
 One life comes home to our soul to-night, 
 
 The life that stands by its soul's true mate, 
 Where two hearts beat as one in the fight 
 
 That Arigo^ fought at the silvery gate 
 While he guarded with care the lambs of the fold 
 
 From the purpling deep of Icarian^ seas 
 And carried them on in his chariot of gold 
 
 To the sacred land of Hesperides^o. 
 One song comes home to oiu* soul to-night 
 
 Which was sung by the stars when Apollo 
 played 
 On the heavenly harp by his own chemic light 
 
 To the numberless worlds in truth arrayed, 
 And the numberless souls who must learn the 
 laws 
 
 In nature's great archives stored away 
 That are scattered along progression's paths 
 
 For us to glean in the coming day. 
 So wx stand with the throng at the beautiful gate 
 
 That is left half ajar to welcome us in 
 From the sunlit bowers of our earthly fate 
 
 To the life that cleanses from all sin. 
 One claim comes home to our soul to-night, 
 
 The claim of our own identity. 
 As we strive for the life that is hid in the light 
 
 Of the spirit sun of eternity. 
 So we make no moan, but bide the plan 
 
 8. Arigo is Pan, the God of Shepherds. 
 
 9. The mythical waters of the heavens. 
 10. The garden of Eden. 
 
196 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 That unfolds every leaf of our spirit flowers 
 Though crushed we may be by the weight of the 
 ban 
 As we pass 'neath the rod toward our spirit 
 bowers. 
 Yet we'll climb progression's ladder at last 
 
 By the help of wisdom's guiding cord 
 Which will lead us all right through each fiery 
 blast 
 For God says, "I love thee, pass under the rod." 
 
 PARADISE LOST AND FOUND 
 
 Within the gates of Paradise there walked 
 The first fair fruits of God's eternal love, 
 A perfect pair ; to them no sin was known. 
 No mad careering of the jealous mind, 
 No ribald mutterings of dishonest deeds 
 'Tween warm and trusting friends were ever 
 
 heard ; 
 None bowed the knee to plead for mercy from 
 The master with his lash drawn back ; no 
 
 blood 
 Was seen to ooze from out the poor slave's flesh ; 
 The air breathed not his moans, for each man 
 
 stood 
 Beside his brother man, and bowed before 
 The law of equity as to their God ; 
 No rich were there, setting their iron heel 
 Astride the poor man's neck, for not one soul 
 Stood in the highway begging for his bread, 
 Or like as Lazarus sat by the door of Dives 
 Pleading for alms or picking up the crumbs 
 That fell from ofif the rich man's plenteous board. 
 No vain were there chasing the dazzling light 
 
Gems of IiispirafioiL 197 
 
 Of sophistry, or fa1)ricatiiig- lies. 
 Hoping for gold and glory as their gain. 
 Scheming deception and sharp-toothed envy 
 On earth had found no resting place as yet. 
 No scandal with its putrid breath of felony 
 Sent forth its blighting lava o'er the earth. 
 No sluggard lay upon his couch asleep 
 While the bright orb of day rolled swift and high 
 His chariot wheels across the azure dome 
 And by thus sleeping threw his burdens oiT, 
 To fall on other backs already laden. 
 Licentiousness had found no lodgment there, 
 Because hypocrisy had not formed the cloak 
 For lust to wear. Nor had the screen been wove 
 With which to hide the low infernal passions 
 Which Satan alone could stamp on souls of men. 
 Even the figleaf girdle (which the fair virgin 
 Of God's sovereign law knitted together 
 With the bunch of thorns that Adam plucked 
 Bv reaching thro' a niche wdiich Gabriel left 
 Within the garden w^all, and Satan found) 
 Had not been thought of yet, because no need, 
 For where there is no sin there is no shame. 
 No deaf, no dumb, no blind, no lame were there, 
 No spirit imbeciles were there, for God 
 Had breathed his ow^n life into the flesh of man, 
 Embellishing his mind with wisdom's dower. 
 No madmen raved in all their frenzied dearth, 
 Shut out from all that nature formed to love ; 
 No murderer sought the hemlock and the wine 
 Or thrust the dagger thro' his brother's breast. 
 No ^irones were found in all that garden fair 
 To tell that kings or queens had ever lived. 
 No words of man w^ere ever misconstrued 
 Because of veiled minds, for truth stood there 
 Naked and bold, holding the sword of justice 
 Within her strong right hand, and in her left 
 
198 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 She held aloft the golden crown of righteousness, 
 Disrobed of e'en her veil, that all might see 
 Her symmetry of form and worship her. 
 Envy and malice lay outside the gate, 
 Locked in the folds of Satan's wily charms. 
 All, all within this garden of the Lord 
 Was peace and joy and health and happiness ; 
 No clouds were seen, no muttering thunders 
 
 heard, 
 No lightnings gleamed athwart the social 
 
 heavens. 
 The days were short, for happiness is fleet. 
 And never stops to catch the sluggard's moan. 
 The nights were clothed in drapery of perfume 
 Fresh from the breath of every fragrant flower 
 And odors of spices wafted o'er Joppa's seas 
 From bright ambrosial climes where angels dwell, 
 Where mountains sing their songs of endless 
 
 praise. 
 As they smile down upon the limpid streams 
 Whose rippling waters bathe their trusty feet, 
 And fair Diana wipes them with her hair. 
 In Eden's bowers w^ere trees of wondrous growth. 
 But greatest of them all stood Lebanon's cedar, 
 Clothed in the drapery of his shadowy shroud, 
 Casting his towering branches 'mid the clouds 
 (Where birds sit brooding on his dangerous 
 
 limbs) 
 Throwing his mottled shades o'er lovely vales 
 Holding them firmly in his willing arms. 
 While he's shaken by some mighty wind 
 That would unhinge his purpose, but for the 
 
 power 
 Hidden in his faithful breast to do God's will. 
 There, near great waters and 'neath his widened 
 
 shade 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 199 
 
 All beasts of earth brought forth in joy their 
 
 young. 
 And sang their praises to the Lord for blessing 
 While all their joys appeared invincible. 
 No other tree n God's capacious garden 
 Was like to this one tree, for all the others, 
 Even the smaller cedars, envied him, 
 For all great nations under his shadows dwelt 
 And sang their praises to earth and the mornmg 
 
 stars, 
 And the Almighty God, the King of Kmgs. 
 There children stroked the lion's shaggy mane 
 And while she licked their feet she fed her cubs 
 With food she gathered from their outstretched 
 hands, , • x n 
 
 And bears and dogs and wolves ate their lull 
 
 share. 
 Then kissed the hands, the little childish hands, 
 With unfeigned love and fervent gratitude 
 And as a recompense for childish care, 
 They frolick'd o'er the lawn with babyhood. 
 While lambs and fatlings came and joined the 
 
 sport ^ . 
 
 Then all bowed low the knee in praise to God 
 While seraphims looked down from heaven and 
 
 smiled 
 On the harmonious life led on by love ; 
 For nature was in hallowed glory wrought 
 And seemed to hold in her tenacious grasp 
 The endless cycles of God's flowery planes. 
 But one fair morn when nature was adorn'd 
 As a young bride when lo, the bridegroom 
 
 cometh, 
 The spirit of the living God went forth 
 From out of Eden's beauteous blooming bowers 
 Where he had put mankind to till the ground 
 And sow the seeds of equity, love and truth, 
 
200 Cciiis Of Inspiration. 
 
 Integrity of soul and faith divine, 
 Sweet nectar for Apollo and his hosts. 
 His work was finished on the seventh day, 
 And at its close he passed the massive gates 
 Of his own glory ; but ere he went forth 
 He told his children all to eat at will 
 The intellectual fruits of inspired thought, 
 If they inclined ; but ignorance was bliss 
 And it were better far to leave the fruit 
 Of knowledge in its place and taste it not, 
 Lest eating they thro' ripened wisdom learn 
 Their incapacities and weep o'er ignorance, 
 And soon become as gods, and being wise 
 Wed science with philosophy, prove them one 
 With all the laws of nature's universes 
 From the least moulding of organic life 
 To all the master suns that roll thro' space. 
 And from the growing seeds of intellect 
 Reap sheaves and garner for the life to come. 
 But when the last echo of his footsteps died, 
 The light was overcast with mystic haze, 
 The gloomy souls of all went groping round ; 
 Their joys began to fade, no rest they found 
 Tho' flowers still bloom'd and warblers sang their 
 
 songs. 
 Their low, sweet songs in blissful harmony. 
 The fruit trees bloome'd, then dropped their 
 
 lovely robes 
 To give their reign unto the place of fruit. 
 And lo, the tree of knowledge in the midst 
 Was laden heavily with precious fruit, 
 Some green, some ripe and some was yet in 
 
 bloom. 
 Yet God had said, "Eat not, or else ye die." 
 Although the tree of life was by its side 
 Whose fruit was laden with the breath of Pan, 
 And yet God said, ''Eat not, for if ye do 
 
Grills of Inspiration. 201 
 
 Ye shall surely die." 
 
 But they did eat the fruit 
 
 Prepared for them by the eternal gods 
 
 From the great storehouse of eternal lore. 
 
 And so they wandered up and down the earth 
 
 Hither and thither they went and tried to touch 
 
 The mainspring of the glory which had fled 
 
 And left destruction standing in its place, 
 
 Waiting for Cadmus to sow his dragon's teeth 
 
 That would bear fruits of tyranny and death. 
 
 But God had said the fruit was wisdom's dower 
 
 And when a voice was heard from out the depths 
 
 Of darkness and conflicting elements, 
 
 Saying to all, "Put forth your hand and eat, 
 
 For if ye eat thereof ye shall not die. 
 
 But shall become as gods and be inspired 
 
 With fire from heaven and knowledge, too, from 
 
 hell. 
 Knowing all things that God himself hath made 
 For you to know, but said ye should not know, 
 Lest ye should die ; yet all the while he knew 
 That knowledge is life and ignorance is death. 
 And yet this God wdio was pronounced all-wise. 
 All purity and love c.nd full of mercy. 
 Has less of mercy, love and power than I. 
 He knew that I, tho' fallen, was still alive 
 And where he left me, sleeping outside the gate 
 In shades of dark and close -veiled Erebus, 
 And so he left a l^reach within the wall 
 For me to enter. A double breach it was 
 Which he had left, fearing lest one alone 
 Would be too small for me to enter in. 
 He made the second breach beside the first, 
 Knowing that I could rend the two in one ; 
 Knowing, too, T would impart to you the wisdom 
 That he withheld lest ve became as cfods. 
 
202 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 To know the laws and power of the universe 
 
 And all the secrets he hath lain away 
 
 In nature's deep arcana of hidden worth 
 
 For you to know as ages roll their rounds 
 
 And show the truth with all its hidden springs 
 
 Of light and darkness, happiness and sin 
 
 Of miseries yet to come, of life and death, 
 
 Of crosses and of crowns, of love and hate, 
 
 Of earthly villainies and heavenly harmonies. 
 
 For all these fruits are growing on the tree. 
 
 Of which He said, Ye shall not eat of it, 
 
 For if ye eat of it shall surely die. 
 
 And now I say again, put forth your hand 
 
 And pluck and eat the fruit, that ye may know 
 
 Evil as well as good and count as lost 
 
 All that availeth nothing to thy soul 
 
 In power and wisdom, true elements of God. 
 
 For he is ever wise and cunning, too. 
 
 To throw this blame orn me. But power is good 
 
 And wisdom is better far than precious stones 
 
 And purer than the gold of Havilah, 
 
 But neither is yours except ye eat the fruit 
 
 Of this one tree which is so fair and pleasing 
 
 For the eye to see, and to the taste is sweet." 
 
 And so they all did eat, but found the fruit 
 
 Which as it hung upon that glorious tree 
 
 In the golden beauties of Eden's fairy vale 
 
 Was wrought with dire disease and felony. 
 
 Its juice was made of scalding bitter tears 
 
 Flavored with sighs and moans and cankering 
 
 care. 
 Constantly gnawing at their vitals, fiercer 
 Than the vulture of Prometheus on the mount 
 Where Jupiter left him bound in galling chains. 
 And lo, their agonies increased each day. 
 For woman had led the wav to taste the fruit 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 203 
 
 And her conceptions were in sore distress, 
 Hence all the race were in the vortex thrown ; 
 For woman, the mother of all human life, 
 Had yielded up her womanhood to lust, 
 And bondage worse than death and hell itself ; 
 Which for redress she looked to heaven and 
 
 prayed 
 In vain, an earnest prayer, but all in vain. 
 For Cadmus at last had sown his dragon teeth 
 And demons were the fiat of their growth, 
 Who filled the earth with kings and monarchy 
 And wars and bloodshed moulded the thorny 
 
 crown 
 Which Cerberus had placed on Pluto's brow. 
 To whom the Lord had given o'er the power. 
 And who, as he laughed and danced and clapped 
 
 his hands, 
 Declared he knew it would come to this at last. 
 But added in that same breath, ''it had to come, 
 For it is but the refiner's fire that frees 
 The gold from dross and makes it purer still. 
 So I will fan the flames, the sulphurous flames. 
 With envy, malice, jealousy, murderous strife. 
 And pour the oil of drunkenness and revelry. 
 Putrid lasciviousness and all uncleanness 
 Upon the burning mass like flames from hell 
 And hasten the work of casting out the dross ; 
 Then polish the gold with grains of nature's 
 
 truths. 
 But 'tis not I alone that does this work 
 Or, if it is, 'twas God that made me do it. 
 Because he made me subject to his laws. 
 The grand sideral laws of heaven and hell, 
 And the varying music of the rolling spheres. 
 To read the glorious language of the stars. 
 To mark the'nice aflinities of God's days, 
 
204 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 And read aright the lab}'rinths of his nights 
 And the great disparity of wandering thoughts 
 From God's own heaven to my own native vale 
 As they move in a sohd phalanx of sordid woes, 
 And walking hand in hand 'mid the flickering 
 
 gloom 
 Mocking at Eden with its sacred bowers 
 By 'helping God's children to transgress their 
 
 laws. 
 Then holding to their lips the wormwood cup 
 Or forcing them to sip the well-hlled sponge, 
 Or wear the poisoned shirt prepared for them 
 To wear by Dejanira. But out of all 
 This chaos God shall speak to all of earth 
 Crushed down by tyranny and oppressing wars, 
 Now thrusting their fingers in the narrow seams 
 Of Lethe's rocks, all reeking with putrid slime 
 That oozes from out old Hydra's poisonous sting 
 Like orgies from Aholah's JDastile tent. 
 To save themselves from sinking lower still ; 
 Until the voice of God shall speak once more 
 From the mysterious heights of his great day, 
 Saying, Arise, my sons, come forth, my daugh- 
 ters. 
 And bathe your souls in clear Siloam's pool 
 That nestles down among the lower rocks. 
 Then shall they hear and shall not disobey 
 Like fair Pandora, Epimetheus' bride. 
 For she received from Zeus a bridal gift — 
 A box packed with diseases, evils, sins. 
 And joy was promised her and Epimetheus, 
 If they but kept the box securely locked. 
 One day her husband left the key with her. 
 While he a short and pleasant journey took. 
 But charged her to ])C faithful to tlieir trust 
 And not unlock the chest while 
 
Gcjils of Inspiration. 205 
 
 He went. And lung Pandora pondered there, 
 
 And wondered why she could not ope the box, 
 
 And why the mystic oracles forbade, 
 
 And why her lord had left the key with her 
 
 And yet forbidden her to raise the lid. 
 
 For with his last embrace he said to her, — 
 
 **If once you ope the chest your doom is sealed, 
 
 ''Your heaven is lost, your happiness is gone, 
 
 ''Your wadded bliss is turned to misery, 
 
 "Your beauty fled like autumn's withering 
 
 "leaves." 
 Again Pandora looked upon the key, 
 And wondered on the secrets of the chest. 
 And what the oracles had told her lord, 
 And whether he knew what the chest contained. 
 Twas thus Pandora reasoned to herself : 
 "I know he loves me, for my ringlets fair 
 "Sparkle like sunbeams on the restless waves. 
 "My eyes are like the blue of morning skies, 
 "My teeth are white as Joppa's ivory, 
 "My lips are like twin rosebuds steeped in dew, 
 "Clothed in aroma from the angels' breath. 
 "My soul can boast a holy love for him, 
 "Whose love I know comes back to me alone. 
 "Then w^hy this secrecy? Does he distrust 
 "His loved and trusting one? . . . There must 
 
 "be some 
 "Eternal essence of the demons there 
 "To blight my life and blast my wedded joys. 
 "How easy it w^ould be to know the whole ! 
 "But no, I'll not betray my loving lord. 
 *'I wish that he had kept the key instead 
 "Of giving it to me. A curious key ! 
 "I wonder if it nicely fits the lock. 
 "I'll place the key within the lock, but never 
 "Will break my promise to my wedded lord. 
 
2o6 Gems of Iiispiratioji. 
 
 "Oh, I must try how easily 'twill turn. 
 
 "Now I am sure that it will do no harm 
 
 "To raise tlie lid a little but touch nothing. 
 
 "Alas, it opens with a spring, I'm lost. 
 
 "I little thought that it would ope so wide. 
 
 "What mean those shrieks, those moans of 
 
 "agony ? 
 "Oh, would to God that I could die before 
 "My love returns. What will he say or do? 
 "Kill me, perhaps. Such punishment would be 
 "Aluch less than I deserve, perhaps much less 
 "Than it would be for me to live and suffer 
 "The tortures of the demons I've let loose. 
 "Oh, my dear love, my faithful, trusting love! 
 "Would he were here with me in my distress. 
 "And yet I dread to meet his manly face, 
 "So full of joy when he so fondly pressed 
 "That farewell kiss upon my trembling lips. 
 "'Tis very strange that I could do this deed, 
 "After he told me what tlie oracles 
 "Foretold of it, how it would fill my life 
 "With tenfold miseries, and not mine alone, 
 "But lives of generations yet to come, 
 "Cursed before birth by this my fatal deed. 
 "But there, I hear the footsteps of my love 
 "Upon the threshold of our beauteous bower. 
 "I wonder if he knows what I have done. 
 "Ah me, he smiles, he surely can not know 
 "Or he would hate me and would cast away 
 "My blasted soul to be the sport of chance. 
 "Thank God I am alone, no one is near 
 "To see his frowns when I confess to him. 
 "Alas, he knows, he's w^aiting at the gate 
 "To gather strength to hear my wretched tale 
 "And curse me as my reckless act deserves." 
 Then Epimetheus came and spoke to her: 
 
Cciiis of IiispirafioiL 207 
 
 "And yet no vision, but a fatal form 
 '*Of direful, reeling-, staggering, drunken truth, 
 ''All reeking- with the blood of martyred saints. 
 "And in that dream I saw you hastening on 
 "With flurrying steps into the fowler's snare. 
 "And therewith trembling soul you disobeyed 
 "The one request I made in love to you. 
 "Although you knew the oracles forbid, 
 "Your curiosity defied the law 
 "Of heaven's boundless, joyous space, and yet, 
 "My love, you are too weak, too beautiful, 
 "Too penitent to bear reproach from me. 
 "Wedded we were in youthful, blissful joys, 
 "So are we yet in all these miseries. 
 "More dear you are to me than e'er before, 
 "Because I pity too as well as love. 
 "Then too, most suiTering, Pandora, falls 
 "On you and after you on womankind. 
 "For'henceforth man wi-U be forever king ^^ 
 "And woman will obey his law, not God's." 
 Then sweet Pandora answered through her tears : 
 "No, no, this will not be through endless days ; 
 "For when thy brother filled that fatal chest 
 "He did not do the work in blundering haste, 
 "But Hope lay at the bottom of the box 
 "And shone in brilliancy amidst the gloom, 
 "Like Venus brightening the river Styx 
 "Or Algol in Medusa's quivering head. 
 "Divinely bright, it seemed quite ill at rest 
 "Within'its dark abode. It must have come 
 "From far beyond the moon, beyond the sun, 
 "Perhaps bevond the farthest unseen star. 
 "And Hope, 'this radiant Hope, whispers to me 
 "That jov shall come again to womankind, 
 "A gift from great Prometheus, who foresaw 
 "Tliat strength and beauty would grow out of 
 "pain. 
 
2o8 Gems of Iiispiraiioji. 
 
 "But oh, this darkness ! how the gloom has 
 
 "spread, 
 "Contained at first in this one box ; and oh, 
 "To think my thirsting curiosity 
 "Has paved the future of all womankind 
 "With evils and with miseries. But now 
 "Tis passed beyond my power, and Cerberus 
 "Is guarding well the gates of the lower world, 
 "Not to keep any soul from passing in, 
 "For all must taste the wormwood and the gall, 
 "But that no soul pass out until the whole 
 "Of this dark secret age sliall 1k' fulfilled. 
 "Well, well, it was to be, although the gods 
 "Who planned the law and the great oracles, 
 "Who stood as witnesses at the gate of sin 
 "Forbade. I know it now; it was a law 
 "Ordained by the powers of heaven, time and 
 
 "space 
 "That my presumptuous act must be fulfilled 
 "That order out of chaos might be l)rought. 
 "For knowledge born of suffering is power 
 "Infallible and worthy of its birth. 
 "If still we float on clouds of downy joy, 
 "What do w^e care for wisdom's costly gems? 
 "Ages on ages shall roll their cycles round 
 "And millions of souls must wear a martyr crown, 
 "Drinking the fiery draught I mixed for them, 
 "Ere they can reap the harvest of golden love 
 "Which is the offshoot of the fatal box 
 "Prometheus sent me as a bridal gift. 
 "Yet still I grieve that I transgressed the law, 
 "Tho' wisdom be the outgrowth of the act. 
 "As I look o'er the waste of human life, 
 "I see great armies weltering in their blood ; 
 'Whole nations rise and fall to rise no more, 
 "Great cities swept away with one fell stroke 
 "And all past miseries coming yet again 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 209 
 
 *'On the revolving wheel of whirling time, 
 "Love's day-star turned to passion's will-o'-the 
 
 "wisp 
 "That ever dies the same night it is born. 
 "All, all those agonies stare in my face, 
 "Ever accusing me of my rash deed. 
 "But why this moaning over what is past, 
 "And why repine in vain o'er future wrongs? 
 "I'll dry my tears, and by the light of hope 
 "Will watch the cycling ages yet to come, 
 "And see my daughters rising up at last 
 "In all the strength of a grand womanhood 
 "And all the love of a true motherhood 
 "To pack again into that direful chest 
 "The miseries of ages come and gone 
 "Loosed by my hand that all might learn to know 
 "Evil as well as good, and choose the good. 
 "On that fair morn Aurora shall come forth 
 "And by her balmy, oriental light 
 "Roll back old Plato's banner like a scroll 
 "To serve as windingsheet for all our ills." 
 
 Thus spoke Pandora, and the hour is near 
 When woman shall fulfill her prophecy. 
 Aurora's light is breaking on the shore 
 Of this cold, dark, unmitigated age. 
 And she has triumphed o'er the realms of dark- 
 ness. 
 For lo, she comes, bearing in her right hand 
 The palm of victory, and in her left 
 The sword of truth ; her crown is set with stars 
 Stamped with the lustre of God's orient moon. 
 Her robes are w^oven from the mystic light 
 Of God's own glory, soft as new-born love, 
 As pure as Virgo, generous as the sheaf 
 She holds within her ready, willing hand. 
 Weighed in the equal balances of love, 
 
2IO Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 While Justice touches the beam with finger tips 
 To see if aught is wanting. And when the law 
 That wrought this pure and holy new-bom love 
 Is weighed by the eternal powers and found 
 Not wanting, heaven and earth may pass away, 
 Great suns grow dark and moons to blood be 
 
 turned, 
 And stars forsake their paths, but changeless still, 
 This universal love shall never die. 
 
 Behold, the day has come, the glorious day 
 Foretold by prophets in the ages past 
 When God is saying again, ''Let there be Light !'' 
 And angels sound the words in soft refrain, 
 "Let there be light!" and poets and bards still 
 
 walk 
 Clothed in the robes of vibratory love 
 Upon our earth, and sing, "Let there be light !" 
 Oh list, ye Gods, for Terra knocks once more 
 At Eden's gate, so let her in, for she 
 Has cleansed her soul from blood of martyred 
 
 seers 
 And washed her hands from all her fabled creeds 
 And wiped her tears away, and now she asks 
 That she may satisfy v/ith Eden's fruits 
 Her children's hungering souls, that long have fed 
 On withered husks of ignorance and despair. 
 
 A voice is speaking now from out the depths. 
 Saying. T tear, I heal, I have smitten, but now 
 T will bind you up. The day of the redeemed 
 By prophets long foreseen is now at hand. 
 And we shall enter in to Eden's fields. 
 
Gems of Inspiration. 211 
 
 FAREWELL 
 
 To be read as the funeral services of Mrs. M. M. Sisco, author of 
 this book. 
 
 She has gone, she has gone, to that better land 
 Where the beautiful white-robed angels stand 
 That beckoned her on to that beautiful shore 
 Where the parting of loved ones will be known 
 no more. 
 
 She has cheerfully folded her hands o'er her 
 
 breast, 
 And her weary spirit will now find rest 
 In the arms of a beautiful spirit love. 
 From which she wnll never more wish to rove. 
 
 In that heavenly home she will surely hear 
 The songs of the birds as they flutter near, 
 And will listen with joy to the heavenly choir 
 As each hand sweeps softly over the lyre. 
 
 She has trod the path of dual love alone, 
 
 Till she neared the gates of her spirit home, • 
 
 When one touched the well-spring of her weary 
 
 soul 
 Thro' waves of thought, which incessantly roll 
 
 From God's beautiful hills to his flowery vales 
 Down to earth's glades and their weary trails 
 Of darkness and sorrow and sin and care 
 Which can never drift to the home over there. 
 
 She has wafted her way to those beautiful fields 
 Where the chalice of life incessantly yields 
 The nectar of love from life's full-flowing tide. 
 While God clothes with true glory the bridegroom 
 and bride ; 
 
212 Gems of Inspiration. 
 
 Then leads them on through his shady bowers 
 As they feed on aroma from his unfading flowers, 
 And they tarry long near the rippling seas 
 Where the waves are lightly touched by the 
 breeze. 
 
 They walk hand in hand, together as one, 
 For each hungry soul has found its own, 
 And each link is strengthened in the endless 
 chain, 
 
 For in that home they are one in twain. 
 
 Burn, burn the old vesture she has cast aside 
 
 For now she wears the robes of a bride. 
 
 By the sacred touch of a hand divine 
 
 She bows with her loved one at the holy shrine, 
 
 Where the fire never dies and the light never 
 
 fades 
 But lingers forever on the fair, sunny glades. 
 Where the sunlight of reason eternally gleams. 
 And the sunlight of truth sheds its holiest beams 
 
 O'er each hungering soul who seeks for the truth. 
 That wafts the soul back to the joys of youth 
 And reclaims all the tints of life's roseate hues. 
 Which will expand but never will close. 
 
 So we'll let them pass on to their spirit home. 
 For the bridegroom is here and now claims his 
 
 bride. 
 So we'll let them pass on to their spirit home 
 To bask in the glories of God's spirit sun. 
 
6681 IS gov