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POEMS 
 
 BY 
 WILLIAM EVANS THOMAS 
 
 1916 
 BENNETTSVILLE, SOUTH CAROLINA 
 

 Copyright 1916 
 
 By W. E. THOMAS 
 
 Published December, 191 6 
 
 / 
 
 DEC 28 1916 
 
 ©Gi A 4 5504 7 
 
'T^HE lines here written on these pages 
 
 May not edify the sages; 
 The searching glance of critic eyes, 
 Will find something to criticize. 
 If friends awhile are entertained, 
 My motive then I shall have gained. 
 
LIFE'S DUTIES 
 
 Life's duties meet us every day 
 And seem almost to bar our way; 
 Each passing day but shows indeed 
 The measure of tomorrow's need. 
 
 Cast fear aside, all around are spread 
 The avenues for earning bread. 
 Then face life's duties every one, 
 For soon the race of life is run. 
 
 To those who have supinely wrought. 
 Will be denied the end they sought; 
 But weary, working, plodding one, 
 Your blest reward will be, "WelJ done." 
 
 KEEP ALL TROUBLE FOR THE MORROW 
 
 Let each day provide its own, 
 And may no burden or sorrow 
 Be borrowed from the day to come. 
 
 Each day brings a gleam of gladness 
 To some heart, weighted down with grief, 
 
 Or the morrow brings its sadness, 
 But the next day brings relief. 
 
THE CHANGEFUL MOUNTAINS 
 
 The view from the mountain top shows constant change, 
 An atmospheric sea encloses hill and vale, 
 
 The lofty solid rocks which endlessly range 
 
 Like enchanting pictures seen through a misty veil. 
 
 Off to the left, the lowlands reaching far away, 
 Boundless as the ocean, and like a shoreless sea ; 
 
 As changeful as fantastic dreams you dream by day, 
 A thousand tree-clad hills, and smiling vales you see. 
 
 Those wild shapes which seem so near, so hard, so grey, 
 At other times, recede and soften to your view ; 
 
 Those hard and craggy lines that show today, 
 Tomorrow are transmuted into tender blue. 
 
 Often the mountains show to the observant eye, 
 The tapestry of green that grows along the slopes ; 
 
 Again they are blue, and show flat against the sky, 
 Or they are only mists and shadows like our hopes. 
 
 At the sunrise hour misty clouds, like phantoms seen. 
 Come rolling upward like waves of the restless sea. 
 
 Now and then they part asunder, and in between 
 
 Now revealing, now concealing, mountains to infinity. 
 
 At last as night draws on, against the sky outlined, 
 The mountains look translucent in the sea of light ; 
 
 Anon the sunset glory flames upward from behind, 
 Pauses on the summit, putting darkness into flight. 
 
 6 
 
MIDSUMMER 
 
 Midsummer is the time when floods of rain 
 Relentlessly fall on the new cut grain; 
 When grass ambitiously covers the row- 
 Whereon cotton is supposed to grow. 
 
 Midsummer's the time when mosquitoes appear, 
 Tunefully singing close to your ear, 
 Then after warning they take a wee bite, 
 W'hile you ferociously put up a fight. 
 
 Midsummer's the time when you easily guess, 
 By his broken tackle and muddy dress, 
 That he is the man not easy to match, 
 In his tale describing the fish he can catch. 
 
 Midsummer's the time when editors eat 
 Free watermelon, red, juicy and sweet, 
 Contributed by farmers anxious to get 
 Free subscriptions to the paper, you bet. 
 
 Midsummer's the time when Flora is seen 
 Walking the streets like Modesty's Queen, 
 Wearing a dress that is not ver\- long, 
 But — summer is passing and I close my song. 
 
DARTING STRAWS 
 
 As childhood would essay to cast 
 Light straws against the howling blast ; 
 So even now man in his prime, 
 Is darting straws full half his time. 
 
 The man who first the lesson learns, 
 That less depends on what he earns, 
 Than what he in his wisdom saves, 
 Can ever hope for what he craves. 
 
 When he has that lesson learned, 
 His first milestone has been turned ; 
 His life's highway before him lies, 
 He prospers now if half he tries. 
 
 Man prospers only as he saves. 
 And thus the road to wealth he paves 
 And if his income should be small, 
 Then let him still not spend it all. 
 
 WEALTH 
 
 Win you wealth honorably. 
 Seek it industriously. 
 Use it judiciously, 
 Lay it down cheerfully. 
 
 8 
 
AMBITIOUS MAN 
 
 A man's ambitions to succeed 
 Makes man unmindful of man's need ; 
 And, to subserve ambition's end, 
 A man would sacrifice a friend. 
 
 His thirsty greed for making wealth 
 ,Makes man to think too much of self ; 
 In his haste to mount to fame, 
 He would besmirch a true friend's name. 
 
 Does the blue dome that hangs above 
 Bend o'er a land where all is love? 
 Does the Sun's light in radiance stream 
 Where true contentment reigns supreme? 
 
 If love inherent in Man's soul 
 Could always every act control. 
 Then Man's life on earth would be 
 A foretaste of Eternity. 
 
 HOPE 
 
 Hope no longer would be hope 
 Could it not the future paint, 
 
 Giving light to those who grope. 
 Giving strength to all who faint. 
 
TWO OCEANS 
 
 Upon a narrow strip of land, 
 O mortal man, you stand today! 
 
 Yon call it time, at your command 
 To utilize or waste away. 
 
 Looking backward, you behold 
 The ocean of your past in sight. 
 
 Do the deep waves to you unfold 
 A life well spent in doing right? 
 
 Or, do you see upon the waves 
 
 Your wicked deeds come floating past? 
 
 Is the past the ocean grave, 
 
 That buries all your hope at last? 
 
 Do deeds of kindness left undone, 
 In torment come to plague j-ou now? 
 
 Your vain regrets will not atone 
 
 To ease your heart or calm your brow. 
 
 Do words harsh spoken, seem to rise 
 From out the darkness of the past? 
 
 Let not tears now dim your eyes. 
 Nor vain murmurs their shadows cast. 
 
 10 
 
Then look you forward while you may, 
 
 And yet another ocean see. 
 Now you behold your future day, 
 
 Reaching into eternity. 
 
 You stand upon the sheltering sand 
 Of mortal life's uncertain day; 
 
 You know not when your strip of land 
 From neath your feet will slip away, 
 
 "Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
 Into each life some rain must fall." 
 So says the Poet in his song. 
 And I fear me much he is not wrong. 
 
 But the sunniest day will always come 
 After the shower of rain is done. 
 So transient sorrow, like the rain, 
 Is followed by the light again. 
 
 Nor sunny climes, nor starry skies 
 Will always greet our wondering eyes. 
 But "all that's best of dark or bright" 
 Is mellowed to our tender sight. 
 
 11 
 
THE BIRTH 
 
 When Roman eagles proud unfurled 
 Their brazen wings far over the world ; 
 While Rome in all her conscious pride, 
 Surveyed her power extended wide, 
 Judah groaning beneath her sway, 
 Wished for the coming of the day 
 When freedom from the galling chain 
 Of Roman power might come again. 
 
 'Twas then the Judean world was fraught, 
 With sanguine hope for what they sought, 
 For prophets wise in days of old, 
 The coming of a Prince foretold ; 
 From David's line he was to spring. 
 And be for them a prince and king ; 
 The Jews in long expectancy 
 Hoped He would come and set them free. 
 
 The fullness of the time had come, — 
 The time foretold by prophet tongue, — 
 The rising of the glorious morn 
 When Christ the Saviour should be born, 
 As Prince of Peace on earth to dwell, 
 To save the race of man from Hell. 
 So sinful man through all his days. 
 May never cease to give Him praise. 
 
 12 
 
A winter month, the air was cold, 
 
 The glittering stars shone out like gold, 
 
 "While shepherds watched their flocks by nighi 
 
 A Holy Angel, wondrous bright. 
 
 Proclaimed to them the glorious words, 
 
 "To you is born a Saviour Lord." 
 
 A multitude of angels then 
 
 Sang, "Peace on earth, good will to men." 
 
 But brighter yet the star that led 
 
 The "Wise Men" to that humble shed; 
 
 And brighter still the light that streams, 
 
 To warm the manger with its beams; 
 
 E'en yet that light shines clear today. 
 
 To lead us through life's troublous way; 
 
 Truly its kindly ray is given. 
 
 To guide our footsteps into Heaven. 
 
 Glad anthems now the angels sing, 
 In praise of Him the New Born King; 
 He comes to earth as Prince of Peace, 
 From sin and sorrow to release 
 Those who would be reconciled 
 By His love and mercy mild ; 
 Those who ask shall be forgiven 
 Of sin on earth, to enter Heaven. 
 
 13 
 
THE SUNNY SOUTH-LAND 
 
 The Sunny South-land is the spot 
 Where Heaven's richest blessings rest 
 
 And nothing should its brightness blot 
 And no one there should be opprest. 
 
 Its genial clime and sunny sky, 
 Conducive each to perfect health, 
 
 Invite strong men, who half way try, 
 To gain an ample store of wealth. 
 
 The fertile soil, responsive, brings 
 Abundant crops to those who toil, 
 
 And crops of many different things 
 Spring luxuriant from the soil. 
 
 Streams, flowing from the mountain side 
 And running thence among the hills. 
 
 Furnish tracks where steamers glide 
 And sites for numerous cotton mills. 
 
 From underneath the mountains' base 
 Vast stores of treasure may be brought: 
 
 Coal enough to serve the race 
 Till coal no longer shall be sought. 
 
 14 
 
The mountains tall are underlaid 
 With granite rock and iron ore 
 
 From which our houses may be made 
 Till time itself shall be no more. 
 
 The mountains, streams, and fertile soil 
 
 Of our Sunny Southern land. 
 Hold stores of wealth, for all who toil, 
 
 With a generous, willing hand. 
 
 THINGS UNSEEN 
 
 Sometimes the gayest laughter 
 But hides the saddest heart, 
 
 And, oft when laughter lingers, 
 The tear begins to start. 
 
 We may not always fathom, 
 The meaning in a look ; 
 
 'Tis best it's ofttimes hidden, 
 Like whirlpools in a brook. 
 
 Thy face may hide the sorrow 
 That gnaws the heart within. 
 
 Twixt sorrow then and gladness. 
 The parting wall is thin. 
 
 15 
 
WHAT IS NEW BENEATH THE SUN? 
 
 Can aught beneath the shining sun 
 Be counted new that you have done? 
 Has high distinction in your sphere, 
 Been your reward through hope or fear? 
 
 Has your life's aim been fully met? 
 Or, are you toiling, hoping yet, 
 For tardy coming of success, 
 Your struggling eflforts yet to bless? 
 
 Whilst other men are growing great 
 You're groping in the mists of fate, 
 Your victor's crown is still unwon. 
 Your famous deeds are yet undone. 
 
 In every word and thought and deed, 
 We only follow those who lead ; 
 And they in turn could do no more 
 Than follow those who went before. 
 
 How few indeed originate 
 Their own deeds or words ornate ! 
 Older minds have paved the way. 
 Where younger minds do tread today. 
 
 16 
 
Your burning words may but express 
 The thought of others in new dress; 
 The words you use have all been tried 
 By writers who have long since died. 
 
 Does shining wealth or gilded fame 
 Form a halo round your name? 
 You're gaining now, no less, no more, 
 Than others have gained before. 
 
 Then what is new beneath the sun? 
 Not those deeds that you have done, 
 For other men have done the same. 
 And by like means they rose to fame. 
 
 THE SEASONS 
 
 Summer's robe of fading green 
 
 Is dust besprinkled now, 
 And tints of autumn may be seen 
 
 Upon each waving bough. 
 
 Autumn, clad in russet hue 
 
 Of variegated tints. 
 Colors leaf and grasses too 
 
 In Nature's lovely prints. 
 
 Then hoary Winter's chilly blast 
 Foretells its own short reign ; 
 
 Its snowy garments cannot last 
 When balmy Spring comes again. 
 
 17 
 
PROGRESS 
 
 "In the world's broad field of battle," 
 How the wheels of progress rattle? 
 Things daily seen are ever proving 
 That the world is onward moving. 
 
 Time moves on : the days are bringing 
 Great reforms, with changes ringing. 
 Rushing on, the years are showing 
 That in progress we are growing. 
 
 In the tilt with all creation 
 We maintain our foremost station, 
 And, forward rushing all the time, 
 Our onward progress is sublime. 
 
 We look not back to count the stages 
 Written now on History's pages; 
 Through a century's lengthy space 
 We've kept on gaining in the race. 
 
 18 
 
IN HIS HANDS 
 
 The lilies do not toil, 
 Neither do they spin. 
 
 They spring from out the soil, 
 And rest again therein. 
 
 So man from out the dust 
 A human being came; 
 
 And the evil and the just 
 To dust must go again. 
 
 The sparrows of the air 
 Must gather what they eat. 
 
 They never show despair 
 And never know defeat. 
 
 For if the birds are fed, 
 O how much more will you, 
 
 If you by Him be led, 
 
 x\nd trust vour Maker too. 
 
 19 
 
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