ESi£y5" COPYRIGHT DEPOSH^ Songs oLiLe Times by William F. Henney Cochrane Publishing Company Tribune Building New York 1910 t °( / o Copyright, igio, by Cochrane Publishing Co. ©CI.A26131S V) CONTENTS Song First The Millionaire 11 Song Second The Washerwoman 21 Song Third The Parson 31 Song Fourth The Motorman 43 Song Fifth The Editor 55 Song Sixth The Stenograi^her 71 Song Seventh The Lawyer 85 Song Eighth My Star 99 Song Ninth A Song of Life 107 SONG FIRST Songs of the Times THE MILLIONAIRE I. Man of many millions, thou With the prone and care-crowned brow, Conjurer, with magic arts Into dollars coining hearts, Broken hearts, transmuted by Thy consummate alchemy; Ranger o'er the world's highways, TTndeterred by blame or praise, Strong to hold, to smite, to bind, Taking toll of humankind, (Robin Hood, in Sherwood shade. These compelling traits displayed), Lo! thy servant. Fortune, brings Wealth to thee and power of Kings. 11 SONGS OF THE TIMES II. At thy word, to favoring gale Commerce sets the swelling sail, Through the tempest smitten main Ploughs the steam Leviathan. At thy word what factories hum. What industrial armies come Swift to do thy bidding there, Child and man and woman fair, Toiling early, toiling late. To increase thy vast estate. III. At thy bidding anvils ring. From the forest cities spring, ^Monster locomotives roar. Flying fast from shore to shore. Puffing east and puffing west, North and South at thy behest. These, and much beside are thine; Treasures of the gloomy mine. Golden ore and gems that glow T-Iidden in the rocks below; Delving hands for thee bring forth From the disemboweled earth. 12 THE MILLIONAIRE IV. School and University Own the reverence due to thee, Of thy helpful friendship proud, By thy gracious gifts endowed. Stranger to all classic lore. And to Learning's goodly store, Yet thy ignorance shall be Veiled and crowned by learned degree, Chaplet, Scholar hands bestow, Wreathing thy uncultured brow. V. Thou hast spoken; churches rise. Graceful spires that pierce the skies, Shrines and altars manifold Which thy liberal hands uphold, Chimes and choirs and piety Pillared and sustained by thee. Myriad lawyers at thy gate On thy fitful pleasure wait. Trained and skilled in picking flaAvs In the text of righteous laws, Burly, jovial or gaunt, Each a venal sycophant. 13 SONGS OF THE TIMES Myriad doctors, too, attend Where thy wayward footsteps wend, Owning Physic ^s utmost skill Vassal to thy haughty will, Lest thou shouldst, too reckless grown, Dash thy foot against a stone. Prodigal of smells and pills, Purges, bandages and — bills, These, from every clime and land, Come and go at thy command. VI. And the obsequious parson, too, Sheds a halo round thy pew, Tells of missionaries, hence Sent afar at thy expense, From their loathsome state to call Idolater and cannibal. At thy bidding going forth To regenerate the earth. Organ, font baptismal, shrine, These are valued gifts of thine, These, in years to come, shall be Memorials of thy piety. 14 THE MILLIONAIRE VII. Potent in the halls of state To direct and legislate, Lobbyist and statesman bring Humble tribute to their king, Framing statute, vote and bill To the dictates of thy will, Casting down at thy decree Right and blood-bought liberty. Freedom ^s forms and phrases lent To thy tyrannous intent. Throttling, with unholy hand. Righteous law and just demand, Gyves and chains and fetters vast Round the people's servants cast By thine arts and quenchless rage To despoil their heritage. VIII. Man of millions, great shall be Thy responsibility. When, as in the fateful past, Wronged, the people rise at last, Thrust thee, ruthless tyrant down, Blast thy sceptre and thy crown, 15 SONGS OP THE TIMES All thy power to ruin hurled 'Mid the curses of the world! Wrath and License stalking by, Want and wild-eyed anarchy, Eight and order, overthrown By the wrongs that thou hast done, These, in fierce repression, wait Threatening thy royal state. Be there need to build anew Liberties thy arts o 'erthrew. Revolution, with rude hand, Could alone restore the land. Laboring give, from sea to sea, Birth anew to liberty. Whatso'er thou doest, pause Ere thy touch corrupt our laws. IX. Would thy restive genius stood Harnessed to the common good! What delightful visions rise Of thy tireless enterprise Serving all, compelling Fate To the glory of the state. What immortal wreaths were thine. What undying fame would shine 16 THE MILLIONAIRE On thy path, in rectitude Striving for a people's good! Would such fruit thy toil might bear, Solemn, sad-eyed millionaire. X. Master Mind, Colossal Force ! As the swollen water-course Pours its wild, resistless tide O'er the level countryside, Swirling, ruthless, making spoil Of the season's fruitful toil, Tamed and bound by luiman skill Laves the lea and turns the mill, So thy talent, held in thrall For the common good of all, Grateful peoples would confess Glorious to inspire and bless. XL Turn thou, then, from selfish strife To a nobler, larger life; Let thy energy and will Higher destinies fulfill. Serve the State, maintain the laws, Battle for the righteous cause. 17 SONGS OF THE TIMES Mindful of the woes that fell On the outcast Ishmael, Turn not hand and heart and mind 'Gainst the rest of humankind. Service vast 'tis thine to give. In that giving learn to live, By thy nobler instincts led, By unselfish motive swayed, Man of many millions, thou With the prone and care-crowned brow. 18 SONG SECOND THE WASHERWOMAN I. The Angel of the Lord, one day, Wending o'er the earth his way. Veiled and hid from mortal ken. Viewed the strange abodes of men, Saw the palaces of state, Mansions of the rich and great, Saw the mighty structures high Reared by Trade to vex the sky, Heard the clatter and the roar Of the far resounding shore Where the ships of Commerce rock. Laden, by the crowded dock; These he saw and much beside; Saw the stately temple's pride Lift the slender spire and fair Grandly through the fretted air. Incense saw, from censers swung. Through the vast cathedral flung. 21 SONGS OF THE TIMES II. Not at these he paused, nor stayed Where the busy shuttle played In the factory's hum and din, Paused not here, nor entered in ; But with silent steps and sure Sought the dwellings of the poor, Passed within the lowly door. Never honored thus before, Of an humble tenement, Where a toiling woman bent O'er a steaming tub whose fume Filled the bare and squallid room. III. Round the door her children played. One a dark eyed little maid, Bare of foot and scant of dress In her three years' loveliness; One, a boy, whose sturdy arm Shields his sister's steps from harm. Safely guides her tottering feet Through the dangers of the street. Shares her joys and soothes her fears, Wiping with his sleeve her tears— Ah, the mother-love can trace His dead father in his face. 22 THE WASHERWOMAN IV. At the tub the mother stood Toiling for her children 's food ; All unseen, the angel fair Shed a glory round her there. Form, the washtub bending o'er, Children, playing at the door. Swollen hands and weary feet Winning bread the children eat, In that light ineffable Ye are wondrous beautiful. ''Not like me," the woman said, ''Shall my children drudge for bread. From these steaming suds shall rise Fairer opportunities, Brighter life and happier lot From this lowly washtub wrought, Than their toil worn mother knew. May her willing hands and true. Scrubbing early, scrubbing late. Win for them a better fate." VI. Then the angel of the Lord, Smiling, heard the murmured word. 23 SONGS OF THE TIMES Rose and went his shining way, Passed the children at their play, With him bore the mother's prayer, Went, but left his blessing there — Blessing on the aching head And the hands that toil for bread, Swollen hands, so scarred and torn, Stooping form, so bent and worn. On that dwelling of the poor. On the children at the door. VII. Days and nights and months and years, Mingling gifts of smiles and tears. Swiftly came and swifter sped, Weaving many a fateful thread. Feeding Time's devouring loom With their strands of light or gloom. Ere the Angel came again Unto the abodes of men. Now he stays not at the door Of the lowly and the poor ; On another errand come, Hastens to a mournful home. Where funeral flower and wreatli Sweet, sad tribute pay to Death. 24 THE WASHERWOMAN VIII. Sorrowing liearts were gathered here Round the flower laden bier; One, in manhood's strength and pride, Stood the solemn pall beside; Sadly by, another stood In the prime of womanhood. These the children at the door When the angel came before, Jjifted from their low estate To a fairer, brighter fate. By that mother's toil and care Who now lies prone and silent there. IX. Ah ! becoming well the tear Falling on that patient bier! Death hath swept each latest trace Of sorrow from the upturned face. Leaving only sweet appeal To the hearts that loved it well. Blending all things fair and good In one grace of motherhood. Silent there the children stand Clasping each the other's hand. While that tender face and true Says: '^I gave my life for you." 25 SONGS OF THE TIMES X. Toil-worn still, the scarred hands rest Folded on the pulseless breast. Where Love's last, fond seal is set In the clustered violet. Gone the years in toiling spent. Later years of sweet content Came in blessing, years of ease Crowned with plenty and with peace. While in strength to help and bless And in larger usefulness. Day by day, her children grew ; Day by day she heard anew Of some public service done By the washerw^oman 's son. Here, their painful toiling past. Weary hands may rest at last. XI. And the angel standing by. All unseen to mortal eye, AVhispers in that raptured ear Words that she alone may hear : ' ' Woman . tliou hast nobly w^rought. Well deserved the blessing bought 2G THE WASHERWOMAN By thy toil and fealty, Rise thou up and come with me. Sweeter welcome waiteth us Than rewarded Lazarus. Palms of victory thou shalt bear, Shining raiment thou shalt wear. Faithful mother, thou shalt be Crowned to al] eternity." 27 SONG THIRD THE PARSON I. Crash of organ, wail of prayer. Classic anthem grandly swelling O'er the patient congregation, Hymning Piety's oblation To the Highest ever dwelling In the heavens, himself revealing To his children everywhere; Sermon practical, didactic. Urging measures prophylactic 'Gainst the civic ills prevailing, 'Gainst the vices, never failing To assert their power malignant; These with mien and voice indignant Doth the dominie deplore; Then the deacons take collection. Sings the chair one more "selection," Now the gracious benediction. And "worshipping" is o'er. 31 SONGS OF THE TIMES II. In the pulpit high, Cynosure of every eye, Stands the parson every Sabbath day. Though clad in sombre black, Yet somewhat doth he lack In skill to blaze from earth to heaven the way. Pilot, who wouldst guide O'er the swelling tide Voyagers on Life's bewildering sea, Through the fog-bank drear Can thy vision clear ]\Iark the harbor buoys more sure than we ? Through the starless dark Cans't thou guide our bark Till we catch the glimmering lights ashore, Till, our dangers past, We may rest at last Safe at home, to rove the seas no more? III. What would we not give Could thy skill achieve This surpassing service in our need; All our bearings lost. 32 THE PARSON Heart-sick, tempest-tossed, Through the storm-wrack and the gloom we speed. Somewhere on tlio strand Of the far off land, Wait the dear ones we liavc h)V('d and lost; Say, Pilot, cans't tliou guide, Through ni^ht and storm ;ai(l tide, To where the licmelights gleam along that blissful eoast? Hast ever to that shore The voyage made before, And marked the headland and the light- house and the bay? Ah! this we fain would know Before with thee we go. And through th(» night and tempest sail away. IV Home-sick, like us, tliou art, Thy compass and thy chart The same as ours, thy snils and spars tin same; How shall we follow thee 33 SONGS OF THE TIMES Across an unknown sea, Who knowest not the land we seek nor that from whence we came? Hast thou a keener eye Thy claims to justify Of Pilot, Leader, Admiral and Guide? Oft have we seen thy sail Rent by the conquering gale, Thee and tlij vessel frail tossed on the tide. Like us, afar from home, A wanderer thou dost roam, Thy reckonings lost and all around thee dark. And wouldst thou have us now Follow thy aimless prow. Our loves, our hopes, our all with thee embark? V. Idle for thee to preach, Idle to toil and teach, Idlest of all thy strivings to inspire The doubting heart with faith Prevailing over death, Unless thy mortal lips be touched with heavenly fire. Not on some time-worn creed But on the newer need 34 THE PARSON Of changing manners, larger lives and laws, By newer views of truth, Strong in unfading youth. Shall the ever-living church maintain her holy cause. From height to heiglit we climb The mountain range of Time, And find the horizon broadening on our view ; New reaches of delight Burst on our raptured sight, Diviner aspects of the good and true. VI. holy Truth, thy beacon ever Through storm and shadow glimmers far, And struggling towards tliy light forever The instincts of our being are. Thy path is rugged, who will dare it, Thy heights are giddy, who shall climb? Thy treasures rich, ah ! who shall share it Among the struggling sons of Time? Thy way is long and dark the story. Of martyred lives its winding tells. Between us and thy summit's glory What midnight darkness deeply dwells ! 35 SONGS OF THE TIMES What errors of the past enchain us, What inborn prejudices cling, What inbred falsehoods still detain us When Thought would spread her ample wing. W^hat blinding fogs of doctrine shroud us Where'er our groping feet have trod. What theologic systems cloud us And hide away the face of God. O Bearer of Man's burden, thou Whose face is heaven, if heaven be sweet, Thou, with the torn and thorn-crowned brow And pierced hands and feet! Again, as in that darkened hour — The midnight of the ages — come In plentitude of love and power, light, dispel our gloom! VII. Ah! can the cross's awful story, The guilt, the grace, the shame, the glory, The temple's sundered veil, the day That, shuddering, hid in night away, The thorn-crowned Sufferer, lifted high. On sacrificial Calvary, The eye that pitied in her pain The widow at the gate of Nain, 26 THE PARSON The love that gave not only her But all the world a comforter, The tender voice that healed again The broken heart of Magdalen, The risen Lord, of life the giver, Who blesses, loves and lives forever. Can these need oratorio art To sway the mind, or touch the heart, Can tongue professional express The beauty of their holiness? Nay, for these themes the heart must be Inspired to holy ecstasy, Endowed with gifts divine, and tried By fire, and purged and purified, Wreathed with that Pentecostal flame That on the rapt disciples came. And glowing with supreme desire To speak with tongue and lips of fire. VIII. Few the disciples, few The ministers the blessed Master called A lost world to renew ; Not throned in lofty state, Nor in Cathedrals great, But in a world-wide fellowship were they installed. 37 SONGS OF THE TIMES Now, thousands in His name, For worldly pelf and fame, With school-taught eloquence his gospels preach. Vain organ prelude, vain The anthem's answering strain, And vain the stilted sermon to uplift and teach. Not dogma and not art, But the inspired heart A hungry world is yearning for to-day; An humble heart that shares All human ills and cares, And with the gospel's balm soothes guilt and grief away. IX. Parson, never mix Pulpit and politics. Nor exercise thine office chasing harlots from the town. Though this should bring thee fame, And glorify thy name, And decorate thy brow witli the reform- er's crown. 38 THE PARSON Till He shall come again Full many a Magdalen Shall point the accusing finger at her kin ; Treat thou the foul disease Whose symptoms such as these Tell of the canker knawing deep within. And in thy pulpit hold thy hand, beware Lest in reforming mood Caesar's things and things of God Thou minglest : Knowest thou what fruit such seed may bear? Ciesar's things let CfBsar tend; Grace be thine and joy to spend All thy strength and zeal the wounded soul to heal. CiBsar rules the state : Thy dominion great Lies in the heart and deals with motives there ; Rouse thou the conscience, try The heart till hand and eye Redeemed, reformed, in deeds make answer to thy prayer. X. One, of old, on Horeb stood Till the still, small voice of God 39 SONGS OF THE TIMES Spake the word and fired his eye With prophetic ecstasy. Parson, from the world apart, Listen thou with all thy heart Till that voice thy word reveal, Till His touch thy lips unseal. Many the name of Preacher bear, Few there be that minister, Bringing hope to them that stray Lost in Life's bewildering way. Soul physician, thou who art Skilled to treat the sin-sick heart, Minister to them that be Much in need of ministry. May the Spirit thee inspire. Touch thy lips with sacred fire. Ever from thine altars rise Incense of self-sacrifice. Lacking these, what need to search Why men do not go to church? 40 SONG FOURTH THE MOTORMAN I. i) '* Clang, Cling Clang, Cling Clang, Thus the trolley signal rang Through the busy street, Warning hurrying feet. Automobile, serious horse And! carriage in their devious course, Bicycle and laden dray, To clear the way For the common people's car, Shuttling near and rolling far On the people's errands bent, To the people's service lent. II. One On the platform stands alone, Powers of lightning in his grip, Hands that never fail nor slip 43 SONGS OF THE TIMES From the levers, holding there Subject to his will the car: Faithful hands and eyes that gaze Straight ahead through busy ways, Striving ever safe to win Through the City's press and din, Brave, collected, quick and strong Guiding through the hurrying throng Precious freight of life and limb; Great the trust reposed in him, Wayfarer and Passenger Debtors to his skill and care. III. "What of him, this common friend, "When his years of toiling end? INIarked for swift dismissal by His trembling hand and dimming eye, This the guerdon, this the price Of unmeasured sacrifice. This the recompense, at last, For the years in service passed, Thrown aside as worthless, hurled To the scrap-heap of the world. 44 THE MOTORMAN IV. What a world of contrasts, ours ! Here the incense breathing flowers, There the venomed plant whose breath Fills the air around with death; Here the crystal brook is sped Gushing from the fountain head. There the angry torrent roars In its desolating course, Leaps its bounds and spreads amain Over fields of ripening grain, Ruthless in its foaming wrath, Fell destruction in its path; Here the plumaged warblers sing Welcome to returning spring. Bird and brook and flower and tree Voicing nature's rhapsody; There the wild blast tosses high The naked branch against the sky. Fierce the icy tempests blow Piling high the drifted snow; Here the yellow sunbeams chase The shadow round the dial's face. There the moon flings far and free Her shining pathway on the sea, And the star-beam, cold and bright Shimmers down the azure night. 45 SONGS OF THE TIMES V. Greater contrasts far than these In the birds, the brooks, the trees, "Winter's snow and summer's bloom Sunbeam's glory, midnight's gloom, Shall the eye observant ken In the seething hearts of men, Love and hate and fierce desire, Cold despair and passion's fire; Here, the virtues fair abide Nurtured at the fireside, Lo! in shining troops they come, Gladdening the hearth and home; There the vices rule the hour, Greed of gain and lust of power, Anger rushing to fulfill Dictates of the selfish will, Vengeance burning to requite. Fierce to seize and swift to smite. Grasping avarice, strong to hold Lands and treasures manifold, Such a weird world round thee scan, Philosophic motorman. VI. Stranger things than these behold In the magic power of gold. 46 THE MOTORMAN See the ruffian lifted high, "While to land and magnify Suppliant crowds his steps attend, Potentates before him bend, Grasping in his greedy hands Fruit of toil from many lands, Serving none beyond himself In his mania for pelf. See, again, in lowly lot, By the eager world forgot. Him who gives in humble place Priceless service to his race. From thy toil what blessings flow; Commerce thrives and cities grow. Store and factory pvd. mart, Skilfull trade ?.nd useful art, Flourish where thy swift car speeds, Serving ever newer needs, These their tale of progress tell In the clanging of thy bell. VII. Sound the signal, speed the car, Shuttling near or rolling far, Linking city, field and wood In one grateful servitude 47 SONGS OF THE TIMES To expanding human need; Mart of trade and flowery mead, Crowded square and level green, Park and Lake and Sylvan Scene, Grouped together by the tie Of the trolley flashing by, Serving, for the common good, All the prosperous neighborhood. VIII. In this weird world's vast design, Motorman, a part is thine. Humble though it seem to thee In that world's immensity. Purposeful the golden ray Ushers in the new-born day. Purposeful the star-beams bright Fling their radiance through the night. Through the boundless deeps of space. Star and sun their orbits trace. Moonbeams glisten, rain-drops fall By a law that guides them all. Time and season, shine and shower Bud and blossom, snow and flower. Vale and mountain, lakes and leas. Tides and torrents, brooks and seas. 48 THE MOTORMAN And the star whose vesper ray Flashes through the fading Day, Brightening in the deepening shade, These, and such as these were made To suggest the depth and height Of a purpose infinite. Through the world that purpose runs, Quenching planets, kindling suns, Shaping flower and tree and star And the hand that guides the car. IX. Study well the system vast Nature has around thee cast. How the things of time and space Work in their allotted place. All harmonious to fulfill Dictates of a sovereign will, Each on special mission sent, Each in special service spent, In that system this the test: Greatest, that which serveth best. Motorman, despise thou not. Though it lowly be, thy lot; When the angel shall compete Earth's prodigious balance sheet, 49 SONGS OF THE TIMES And the inventory be Taken for eternity, Many a king witli glittering crown, Many a knight of fair renown, Blazoned name and lineage old, When the final tale is told May, perchance, thy service see Ranked above his pedigree. X. What suggestive echoes swell From the clanging of thy bell! 'Mid the city's busy street, Eager throngs and hurrying feet. Ranging field and wood and glade In the sunshine or the shade, By the farm, the shop, the mill, In the dell or on the hill, Where the forge and furnace burn. And the lapsing waters turn Many a wheel of industry. Where the clattering shuttles fly In the noisy factory, Wheresoe'er in anxious strife Mortals play the game of life. There, in faithful service, are Motorman and trolley car. 50 THE MOTORMAN XI. Servant thou of high degree; Though thy meed a pittance be, Industry and progress bless Thy career of usefulness, Reaping benefits that sprang From the insistent trolley's clang. Knights are dubbed and kings are crowned, Titles of imposing sound Gild the churl and mask the fool In this world's weird carnival. Knighthood leal and true is thine. Though no glittering orders shine On thy shabby coat of blue Heart and hand and eye are true. Service is the trae knight's test, Greatest he that serveth best; Toil-worn hands are nobler far Than the ribbon and the star, In His sight whose wisdom still Moulds creation to his will, Marks, in hidden places dim, Faithful service Avrought for Him. XII. Blessings on the trolley car. Shuttling near or rolling far, 51 SONGS OF THE TIMES Bringing, at our will and mood, Society or solitude, Clanging now through crowds that wait Pent within the city's gate. Now, through field and wood it glides, Ranging quiet countrysides. Luxuries and comforts few The resourceful fathers knew; Prodigal abundance pours Blessings at their children's doors; Of them all we least could spare Motorman and trolley car. 52 SONG FIFTH THE EDITOR I. All the news that's fit to print Given for a paltry cent — And the news that isn't fit Much too often goes with it — All the news, what visions rise Of a boundless enterprise, Gathering from the world around Wheresoever man is found Tales of love and loss and strife, Graphic photographs of life. What amazing talents meet In the well conducted sheet: Learning, philosophic lore, Wit and humor, bubbling o'er. State-craft, song, theology, Diplomatic policy. Ethics, business, science, laws, Condemnation or applause For the deed, the word, the pen. Art or artifice of men, 55 SONGS OF THE TIMES These, and many things beside, In thy musty sanctum hide. Biding till the spirit stir, All accomplished editor. II. To another world below This exalted scene we go, "Where the rabid vices meet In the ill-begotten sheet! Where the failure and the fraud. Eager, ravenous, stalk abroad. By the wage of scandal fed, By detraction earning bread; Lo ! in shabby troops they come. Gray-haired lecher, beardless bum, Refuse of Newspaperdom ; God-forsaken outcasts, these. Life's unsavory dregs and lees. While in solemn state apart, Skilled in literary art. Able, conscienceless and vile, Swift to slander and defile Honored name and honest fame With the venom of his blame, Sits the chiefest outcast, high In his editorial sty. 56 THE EDITOR Prostituted genius his, Glorying in filth and lies. Trailing white names in the dust, Traitor to a sacred trust. III. 'Mid the potentates and powers Of this anxious world of ours. Never king in glory crowned, Never warrior renowned. Orator, whose winged word All a people's conscience stirred. Statesman, sent his land to bless Strong in lofty purposes. Gifted bard whose patriot tongue Freedom's song of glory sung Never one of these, nor all In the court, the camp, the hall, Knew the opportunity Time and fortune bring to thee. Grateful blessings to confer, Conscientious Editor. lY. Who, in influence, would dare With thy. pen his deeds compare, 57 SONGS OF THE TIMES Who of all could e*er combine Such an audience as thine? On the street Newsboys vend the welcome sheet; To the home, Day by day, its pages come; To the office, store and mill. Almshouse, state-house, hospital, To the crowded railway car, To the weary traveler, To the tramp. To the soldier in the camp, To the officers of state, To the merchant, small or great, To the transient crowds that dwell In the many roomed hotel. Everywhere it tells the news Gleaned for everybody's use From the wide-world, near and fai, From Africa and Zanzibar, From the islands of the seas, Australia and the Hebrides, From India and the dreamy East, From Europe and the strident West. From the Northland's fields of ice, From the Southland's balm and spice. 58 THE EDITOR How the monster presses whirl, How the paper rolls unfurl, To record and chronicle, All the swift dispatches tell, Stamping on the faithful page Pictures of a wondrous age. What suggestions pregnant start From thy gallery of art! How romantic fancies flow From thy daily picture-show ! Here, the mug Of some noted criminal, There the smug Countenance of banker fat. General, Admiral, Diplomat, Politician, Statesman wise Limned before our wondering eyes, These, from day to day, we meet In thy variegated sheet, Holding there high carnival. Many a rotund visage, too, Shows what medicine can do To obliterate disease — Miracles of physic, these. 59 SONGS OF THE TIMES Pictures of the recent dead, Pictures of the baby fed On some patent nectar, bride Ranged the smiling groom beside, Graphic pictures, deftly made Of the funeral or parade, Ceremony, festival. Wedding, launching, lynching, all Gathered in many a motley group By thy weird Kaleidoscope. VI. Editor, consider well Ere the doubtful tale you tell ; Deeper far than you may think Stains the smudge of printer's ink. Spoken word, like breath, is spent, Printed word is eloquent Wheresoever runs thy page Through a boundless clientage. Though thy journalistic glory Prompts to print the startling story, Though abundant "copy" be For thee a prime necessity. Let thy zeal importunate 60 THE EDITOR On thy sense of justice wait. Calumny is cruel, prone Falls the name it breathes upon, Blighted with that breath of hell, The printed page its oracle, Scattering broadcast far and nigh The fertile seed of obloquy. VII. What contrasted motives mix In the whirl of politics; Here pure zeal to serve the State Animates the candidate. There the fawning humbug spends All his strength for selfish ends, Seeking power, and place and pelf For the glory of himself. Here the patriot serves and toils, There, the seeker after spoils Lays his pipe and spreads his net Fees and sinecures to get. Editor, whatever betide True to thy high trust abide. Let no demagogue or fake From thy columns comfort take; 61 SONGS OF THE TIMES Let no party need or stress Tempt thee to unfaithfulness. Not on Party's shifting sands Pillared the Republic stands, But on the People's sovereign will, The official's faith, the pariot's zeal, Based and buttressed like the rock To withstand the tempest shock. VIII. Men, not principles, decay, Systems serve and pass away, Through all changing times and laws Still appeals the righteous cause. Justice is a holy name, Changeless, ever more the same, "Whose high-souled apostle must Above all else himself be just. Shall the humbug and the sham Lofty principles proclaim? Shall we deem for office fit Simply him who longs for it, Who by trick and low device, Plan and plot and artifice. Mocks the sober people's rule, 62 THE EDITOR Cheats and binds the common fool? True to principle, thy pen Yet may draw the line at men, Smashing the unworthy slate For the welfare of the State. Let the first condition be Of thy party fealty, Fitness in the men who claim Office in the party's name. IX. Prophet and Apostle, thou, King, though crownless be thy brow. Husbandman, whose hand hath hurled Seed through all the fallow world. Preacher of a gospel bold Uttering precepts manifold, May thy pen forever be Servant to humanity. Prophet! many a time and oft, Though thy word was jeered and scoffed. Did thy faithful pen foretell Shames and scandals foul that dwell In a bought electorate And a venal boss-ruled State. 63 SONGS OF THE TIMES Apostle ! bravely thou hast sought To undo the evil wrought By the Citizen's neglect, By venality unchecked. Frauds and thefts and trades and steals, Bribery and swaps and deals, By thy faithful pen laid bare, Seething in corruption there. King! in all the realms of men Never sceptre like thy pen, Never word from monarch's throne Potency like thine has known : Framing laws and moulding states Smashing policies and slates, Guiding parties, leading thought, Crowning high achievement wrought With the glory of thy praise. Ever through the nights and days Striving to attain and hold Common blessings manifold, For the people's common good, In thy time and neighborhood: Crownless though thy kingdom be It excels in majesty. X. From thy watch-tower, lifted high, Conning over earth and sky, 64 THE EDITOR Signal thou to us below While yet afar the tempests blow, Lest unwarned, the cloud burst fling Far and wide our harvesting, And the boisterous whirlwind's play Sweep our garnered sheaves away. Through the night May thy wisdom read aright What the signs and portents are Flashed across from star to star. XI. Focused in thy watchful eye Seas and shores and landscapes lie, Stretching shadowy and dim To the far horizon's rim. Myriad shapes and spectres pass The perspective of thy glass. Youth and age and want and wealth, Decreptitude, Disease and Health, Joy and Grief and Crimes and Shames, Pigmies swathed in pompous names. Kings to coronation led. Murderers to the scaffold sped, Soldier, statesman, jovial horde Gathered at the banquet board. 65 SONGS OF THE TIMES Parsons, lawyers, doctors, rakes. Cranks, philosophers and fakes. Halt and blind, and foul and clean, Sage and fool — an endless train, Hurrying pass in swift review Before thy busy camera, few Eemain for long, across the day From dark to dark they flit away. XII. Liberty thy grateful aid Shall own, and Justice undismayed Her shining balance true shall hold Beyond the touch of power or gold. If, for the right, to dare and do Thy conscience and thy pen are true. Of old the orator renowned, And poet-teacher, laurel crowned. In common service toiled and wrought. Uplifting men and moulding thought. Discarded in our later day, By new conditions thrust away, Their service in our larger age Hath fallen to thy teeming page, Whose far flung voice, through good and ill, Proclaims their ancient gospel still. 66 THE EDITOR Hail, then, apostle of our times! More potent thou than speech or rhymes To bid the best and wisest rise And mould a nation's destinies. Such blessings may thy pen confer, Evangelistic editor. Inspiring, earnest, bold and free. Thou our Chrysostom shalt be. 67 SONG SIXTH THE STENOGRAPHER Hook and eye and dot and dash, Ribbon, furbelow and sash, Smiling face and shining hair, Arms to dimpled elbow bare, In this faithful outline see Her stenographic majesty, Dainty, delicate and swift. Generous Fortune's crowning gift To the busy mind that bears Burdens manifold, and cares. Product of our modern life With its new inventions rife, With its hurry and its rush, With its hustle and its push. With its boundless enterprise, And its mighty energies Pulsing through a fervent age, Stamping on the eager page. Thoughts and pacts and plans and dreams. That which is and that which seems. 71 SONGS OF THE TIMES 11. 'Mid the squalor and the glamor, And the never ceasing clamor Of our weird society, Still her faithful fingers ply Busy pencil, clicking key. In untiring ministry. Center of a lurid world, ]\Iixed and twisted, tossed and twirled By contending hopes and fears, Triumphs, failures, joys and cares. High and low and small and great On her nimble fingers wait. Business, medicine and law, Letters, art and science, draw On her skill to seize and hold Thoughts and fancies manifold; Bargains, panaceas, pacts. Pleas, inventions, systems, facts, Spoken word recorded true, Oration, sermon, interview, On enduring pages live Through her art preservative. 72 THE STENOGRAPHER in. Though a mere maehine she seems, Visions hath she yet, and dreams. Oft her yearning heart doth miss Husband's smile and baby's kiss, All the joys and cares that come In the train of love and home, Hers the joy of service, hers All that valnod skill confers. Independence, self-respect. Leisure to pursue unchecked Culture, fad, accomplishment. Plenty, dignity, content. Freedom from domestic care ; Still she yearns for one to share All she has and is and feels, Still her woman's heart reveals All her boasted freedom cost, All her fruitless years have lost Missing life's supremest good — The ecstasy of motherhood. Sad her weary soul hath grown Wandering through the world alcne. 73 SONGS OF THE TIMES IV. Swift the day-dreams come and go, Swift the endless copies flow "White and accurate and clean From the dexterous machine. Oft this faithful minister Wonders what we think of her; "What she thinks of us, I ween, Could with certainty be seen, If perchance our curious eye Peeped within her diary. Such a volume I possess Charming in its artlessness; Little dreamt the writer we Its unflattering page would see; Opening it betrays no trust, For the hand that wrote is dust. Wholesome glimpses it affords Of how she viewed creation's lords, Of our weakness taking note Things like these her highness wrote *'Boss has had another spell, Says the Court may go to — well, 74 THE STENOGRAPHER Need he tear about the place Just because he lost a case, Rant and scowl and fume and swear, Growling like a sulky bear, Call the Judge a stupid ass. Say, 'this is a pretty pass! Such another Judge as he Would make an end of liberty!' Now he's dictating a speech. My, how sweetly he does preach, Says the learned bench and bar Pillars of the nation are. Dubs each judge, exalted high, Paragon of purity, Says that he and such as he Of virtue must examples be, Praises high the golden rule, (Stops to call his clerk a fool) T can't make out upon my soul, The meaning of his rigmarole. VI. ''Boss has nearly thrown a fit, IMy, but someone's in for it. The lofty speech he made last night 'Twas my high privilege to indite. 75 SONGS OF THE TIMES Soaring high, he grandly said: 'We toil not simply for our bread; Highest law, all laws above, Sacrifice, the law of love.' The luckless printer made him say, (The editor was sure away) 'Highest paw, all paws above, Sacrifice the paw of love.' To give his speech a cultured touch Prom Shakespeare's works he quoted much, Spoke of youth's glory, manhood's noon. The lean and slippered pantaloon. The paper spoiled it : with a groan, He read 'the slobbered pantaloon.' Thank goodness that these changes slight Are not my fault; my copy's right." VII. ''AH day, throughout cur business stress He raved about the 'pampered press,' Called it 'degenerate,' and drew A picture of 'the hireling crew Who write the humbug up to fame And smear with ink an honest name.' .Nn editor or. tv;o I know; The young reporters are not slow, 76 THE STENOGRAPHER But bright, and gladly take the hint When I would see my name in print. By accident, and not from spite They failed to get his old speech right, And often when he makes mistakes In English, they correct his 'breaks.' He called the editor a bull-head, Avowed his reputation sullied By malice of the fresh reporters, Of truth professional distorters." VIII. ''Boss took me to the halls of state Wherein the lobby legislate, And showed me how the statesmen do 'Just what the lobby tells them to. I went with him to a committee. Took down his speech of wondrous pity For sufferers from tuberculosis. For which he claimed the proper dose is Sunshine abundant and fresh air. God-given freely everywhere. I found there chiefly orators, Cigars and feet and cuspidors. Feet resting on the table polished. All dignity for ease abolished, 77 SONGS OF THE TIMES Men puffing sociable cigars And spitting at the cuspidors, And making such rank clouds of smoke I thought at times I'd surely choke. These things it seems the men of state Require to hear and legislate. The boss's speech and all the lot I copied, it was mostly rot. But all this twaddle, without stint, The papers had agreed to print; The boss will surely have a fit Unless his picture goes with it. IX. ' * The head clerk thought he must propose ; I couldn't bear his horrid nose, So large and crooked, shapeless, speckled. With pimples here and there, and freckled ; Declined his offer thankfully But said I would his sister be. He spurned the offer, and got nasty, Remarked I'd better not be hasty In view of my advancing years, And left me to my angry tears. He's often been refused before And sisters has, I know, galore. 78 THE STENOGRAPHER Ah! well, I must the duty do That to humanity I owe. How could I reproduce that face In mercy to the human race? And yet it's sad to be alone. The busy years have come and gone And left their trace on cheek and brow, There's silver in my hair, I vow! If only a real man would come I'd fire this job for love and home!'' X. I close the diary and lay Its scribbled record safe away. Perchance, betimes, a happier pen May bring its page to light again. In times to come the critic sage Shall ruthless call our hurrying age, Whose steel-shod foot no difference owns 'Twixt women, men and cobblestones. Exhausting every potent art To swell the head and stunt the heart. LDvingly we tend the flowers Through all the glowing summer hours. Well repaid for all our toil 'Neath chilling skies, in stubborn soil. 79 SONGS OF THE TIMES "When round the porch and in the home Their beauty and their fragrance come. But in our human garden fair Rank weeds are growing everywhere; We little reck what blight may reach The modest bloom upon the peach. And through the sun-lit summer hour We leave the garden's fairest flower Unwatered, unattended all To live or die as chance befall. XI. woman, in an age whose zeal Burns but for things material, What kindly hand thy growth shall tend, What kindly sky its moisture lend, Till thy rich fragrance fill the air. Thou fairest of the garden fair! Oh! for strong men to seize and hold Fair nature's offerings manifold, To grapple with the cares that throng Life's steep and rugged way along. Each caring for his precious brood In pride and joy of fatherhood. Not then should woman's life be sped In dreary drudgery for bread, 80 THE STENOGRAPHER Nor should the cradle be forgot, Forbidden to her hapless lot, The crooning mother's lullaby Lost to our modern minstrelsy. Come nobler age and happier, come And consecrate the joys of home, When men by manhood's impulse led Shall build the home and win the bread, And women dwell content to share His burdens and his blessings there. For that blest age we've waited long. Oh! that our men again were strong! 81 SONG SEVENTH THE LAWYER r. Shaven face and shining pate, Heavy jowl and mien sedate, Bulging stomach, pipe-stem shank, Half philosopher, half crank, Crammed with maxims wise and saws, Digests, instances and laws, In this sketch, though rude it be. The discerning eye may see Legal light of high degree. Round this jurisconsult stand. Clustered, many a motley band, Mingling in one brotherhood Every type of bad and good. Shysters, tricksters, liars, cheats, Pimps, suborners, panders, beats ■ . Orators and scholars, too, Shining in the shabby crew, 85 SONGS OF THE TIMES Honor, truth and loyalty Cheek by jowl with knavery, Striker, corporation tool, Pedant, wiseacre and fool. Sinner, saint and publican, Here and there a gentleman, Grouped and bound together all By the tie professional ; These, the grave and learned bar, Great Astraea's minions are. II. Goddess of the righteous, thou With level eyes and thoughtful ])row From thy throne exalted high Doing ever equity, Poising nightly in the blue Shining scale and balance true, Testing with impartial ken Deeds and characters of men, Tell me, goddess, now, I pray. Why from earth thou fledst away. Tjeaving all thy chaste decrees In such prentice hands as these. Compassing the genesivS Of such a motley brood as this"? 86 THE LAWYER Listen, goddess, while I tell What unmeasured woes befell Since thy journeying afar Regents made of bench and bar: III. Now in thy stead we have ''the law," In Babel jargon glorying, Pretending to respect and awe, A poisoned spring, Where IMalice dips his eager claw. And Fraud, her sting. And who be these who gather there Around this muddy fountain, they AVith hungry eyes and scanty hair. Who day by day Stir all its turliid depths of care For those who pay? Not as of old the angel stirred Bethesda's healing pool to bring Hope to the helpless sick who heard The rustling wing; But, rather, for a fee conferred, Its mud to fling. Professors of a science, these. Developed down the ages far, 87 SONGS OF THE TIMES Interpreting the LaAv's decrees, And called "the bar," Subtle in sophistries and pleas — These lawyers are. Here, too, the jury, potent arm Of Justice, the befuddled twelve, Gathered from tlie workshop, desk and farm, Untaught, to delve In mysteries of right and wrong That to the Jurist trained belong; How shall the axe hew straight and strong With crooked helve? lY Once, in a volume quaint and old. While here and there its pages turning, T came to where the author told In frankest phrase his views concerning The law and lawyers, and decried The bar, and railed and cavilled at it. Declared through all the countryside No row but lawyer's tongue- begat it; Then v/axing warmer with excitement He thus preferred his fierce indictment': "Source of all cur wees and tears',' Setting neighbors by the ears, 88 THE LAWYER Tumult, strife and war fomenting. Order, peace, content preventing, Lo ! the lawyers, waxing great, Wreck the home, divide the state. While supine society. Groaning pays the heavy fee! Speak, memory, from the fadeless years, From deathful fields of blood and glory, Tell who begot the woes and fears, The battles gory! The wrack and carnage, griefs and tears. That fill the story ! V. "Some treaty, protocol, decree, Or constitution's phrase, may be, Is brought in question, on each side The hungry legal ranks divide, The lawyers quarrel ; lo ! the race Falls into faction, near and far. With seething heart and demon face Men rush to war, While looking on from safest place Chuckles 'the. bar.' The Bar, thou ancient humbug! how From thy fierce clutch shall man be free, 89 SONGS OF THE TIMES From trick and wile and cunning show Of Equity? Befuddling, with thy jargon, laws Designed to aid the righteous cause. For fees forever finding flaws Where none should be. Opposing precedents and saws To just decree! How long shall man endure thy tricks. In statecraft, statute, politics. And swallow all thy deft hands mix And call it 'Law,' And bow before thy phrase prolix In humble awe?" VI. Thus the curious pages ran Rampant on the "rights of man," Trac^'ng pll our burdens sore To the wicked Lawyer's door. Mingling in distempered view Recklessly the false and true. How one -rascal-'s tainted name Frino-s his honored guild to shame. Staining-' with Iiis turpitude Fair renown of just and good. 90 THE LAWYER Thus, the embattled lawyers stand Glorious, but a mud-stained band. Creditors of all the race For the great things brought to pass By their toil, for blessings wrought By their strenuous battles fought 'Gainst oppression's ruthless power, Faithful in the darkest hour Right and Liberty have known, Boldly at the tyrant's throne. Casting gauge of battle down. From age to age. from height to height. Bearing Freedom's banner bright; Yet their name is scoffed and jeered. Hated, doubted, scorned and feared. For the web of evil spun. And the wrong and outrage done, Py the Ishmaels who claim Title to the Lawyer's name. VII. From the flames had Sodom been Saved, if but a righteous ten, Strong in rectitude, had stood To redeem the neighborhood. Thousands upon thousands stand To redeem the legal band 91 SONGS OF THE TIMES From aspersions foul that mar The escutcheon of *'the bar." Through the web of human story, Through the ages' shame and glory, Hidden now, now brightly shining. With its fibre intertwining Human hopes and aspirations. Loftiest aims of men and nations, Runs the Law, in strands of light, Down the pattern infinite. VIII. Rising ever and again To redress the wrongs of men, Through the wonder weaving years With their gifts of hopes and fears, Comes the jurist, bold and free. Apostle-guide to liberty. Humbler service, too, is his 'Mid the world's perplexities. Man of many functions, how Could we do without thee, now? Every problem of the age Doth thy teeming brain engage. Business method and resource^ Compacts, marriages, divorce, 92 THE LAWYER Corporations, bills and pleas, Rights of ships upon the seas, Railroads, trolleys, steamboats, all On thy boundless wisdom call. Ruler, Statesman, Law-maker, To thy learned word defer. Statutes thou must read aright Keeping old and new in sight, Bearing up the righteous cause Through the flood of bungled laws. IX. Near to all of us thou art In our private life apart; Testament, bequest, estate On thy faithful counsel wait. Frankly we confide to thee Where the rotten branches be In the boasted family tree, Frankly seek thy aid to hide Where it safely may abide The hideous family skeleton, Prone to show its grinning face At some awkward time or place. Much we owe thy skill to keep From common gaze our poor black sheep, 93 SONGS OF THE TIMES Our little circle's erring one, By some perverse mischance undone, And, luckless, fashioned to express The faults and follies of a race. These, and many things beside. Sacred, in thy hands abide; Strong and true those hands must be, Greatly we confide in thee. Clever jurist, honest man Skilled and cosmopolitan, Much the lowly and the high Owe thy faithful ministry, Serving now the thankless State, Lavishing thy talents great On the weighty problems vast Which thy skill must solve at last. Now with heart and mind intent On some doubtful testament, Counseling, restraining, leading. Laws interpreting, and pleading, Battling for the right always, Passing thus the busy days. This increasing load of care Must thy ample shoulders bear — 94 THE LAWYER This and more: around thee stand Clustered all the legal band, Every shade of bad and good, Rascality and Rectitude, Gathered in one brotherhood. Skill and honor here and there, Shames and scandals everywhere, Here a genius, there a chump, Thou must leaven all the lump. Up to thy high standards draw All the practice of the Law, Teaching all the motley crew By precept and example, too. XI. Man of many burdens, thou With mien sedate and thoughtful brow. Prone at times to fads and whims. Yet no crochet ever dims Judgment sound and purpose true To the real end in vie^v Or thy varied clientele. Shrines and fanes to Equity, Building new, yet holding fast To the maxims of the past, 95 SONGS OF THE TIMES ^lay thy faithful labors be Blessed to all humanity! May thy fruitful work redress Wrongs, and make for righteousness, Whether for the public weal Or thy varied clientele. Fame shall never chaplet weave For the work thy hands achieve, Nor the laurel wreath bestow On thy worn and thoughtful brow; Lacking thanks, and soon forgot All thy tireless skill has wrought: Laws and constitutions framed, Rights and liberties proclaimed, Peoples led and states renewed By thy wise solicitude, Guided on from height to height Into liberty and light. These, thy works, shall speak for thee Though thy name forgotten be. Clear of vision, stout of heart. Salt of all the earth thou art; States and Times to come shall be Savored of thy quality. Such the faithful service done By Astraea's loyal son; Such as he redeem the fame Of the bar's bedraggled name. 96 SONG EIGHTH ]VIY STAR I. Behind the west the shrouded sun is grieving, The shadows darken round the listening trees, And night, the enchantress, over all is weaving The magic of her sounds and silences. II. night, to thee shall yearning mortals render The homage of enraptured souls and pay Their grateful tribute to the moonbeam's splendor, The whispering zephyr and the starry ray. III. Gone is the Day, the clamor and the striving And cares that vex the patient soul no more; While nature hymns new harmonies of living From murmuring sands and the resounding shore. 99 SONGS OF THE TIMES IV. Far o'er the lea the beauty breathing flowers Their many scented fragrances distil. Far in the deeps, through all the dreamy hours, The starry wanderers sink behind the hill. Y. And Earth and Air and Sky and Sea combining The ecstasy of being to express, Illumine all the path we tread, repining, With tender glory of their loveliness. VI. Far through the night, in many a cluster gleaming, The star-worlds fling their radiance divine, On snows and flowers and jaded mortals beaming — Celestial guides — and one of them is mine. VII. Out of the East the wisdom seeking sages. Led by a star, are to the manger come ; And I, vain wanderer through these later ages, My star must follow to arrive at home. 100 MY STAR VIII. Long have I sought it 'mid the sons of morning, Long scanned the zenith of the midnight skies; Lo! in the western deeps, the night adorning, I find it shining, bright with destinies. IX. Not o'er the mountain-heights of high endeavor. Nor yet above the palaces of Pride, Nor at the gates of Pleasure, pauses ever My pilot star, my monitor and guide. Deep in the noisesome valley, voices crying With babel clamors all the spaces fill ; The air around is heavy with their sighing. Above its gloomy depths my star stands still. XL Here must I seek tlie keys of Knowledg^j striving Through lowly service blessings to command; To way-worn brothers on Life's pathway giving The kindly counsel and the helping hand. 101 SONGS OF THE TIMES XII. Not in the Court of Kings my lofty mission. Nor in the martial host to g\ory led, But in tho doptlis whoro want ai)palls tlic vision, And sti'Ui^ii'linij: bi-otliei's di'udi^c^ for daily bread. xirr. Here let me toil, in saerifiee, disdaining Ambition's vaunt and Pleasure's s\vvu song; Here let me strive, with valiant heart maintaining The battle of the weak against the strong. XIV. Through nnirk and mist 1 hear the bugles blowing. I see the tossing bannei's lifted high. And tlirough the dai'k my faitliful stai* is throwing Its i-ay of hope, its pledge of victoi'y. XV Not always Wrong shall win, nor yet forever Opprclssion hold a conquered world in thrall; Prevailing Truth the grievous l)onds shall sever And Right shall reign triumphant over all. 102 MY STAR XVI. Vor this T sfx'nd my puny stn'n<^11i, 1,li()iif»h smitten With ^ficvoiis woinuis {ind honorahh; scnrs, Fulfillinj^^ Jill my (h'stiny dccj) written Tn mystic liier()