w Wings of Oppression JxESLiE PINCKNEY iULL Class _t:S_2)£LSl Book._J^ The Wings of Oppression ^—^^^ By LESLIE PINCKNEY HILL BOSTON THE STRATFORD CO., Publishers 1921 Copyright 1921 The STRATFORD CO., Publishers Boston, Mass. The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. SEP "^ "^^'^^^ ©CI.A622627 AAO I c\ ^ Vo Jane Clark Hill FOREWORD NOTHING in the life of the nation has seemed to me more significant than that dark civilization which the colored man has built up in the midst of a white society organ- ized against it. The Negro has been driven under all the burdens of oppression, both ma- terial and spiritual, to the brink of desperation, but he has always been saved by his philosophy of life. He has advanced against all opposition by a certain elevation of his spirit. He has been made strong in tribulation. He has constrained oppression to give him wings. In such poems as Armageddon, The Black Man's Bit, and Cora, I have desired to exhibit something of this indestructible spiritual qual- ity of my race. In the others I have wished merely to be brought into harmonj^ with cur- rents of thought and feeling common to all humanit}^ I trust that there may be in all at least an implied appeal to that spirit of human brotherhood by which alone the world must find the path to peace. For permission to reprint some of these poems I am indebted to ^'The Crisis," "The Outlook," "The Independent," "Life," and various other publications. Leslie Pinckney Hill. Cheyney, Pennsylvania, March, 1921. Contents The Wings of Oppression Poems of My People ♦" Armageddon My Race Tuskegee Freedom Jim Crow "So Quietly" , Cora To a Caged Canary Mater Dolorosa ^he Black Man's Bit To the Chinese Matto Grosso Self-Determination 5 13 14 15 16 17 19 21 22 23 26 27 31 Poems of the Times A Call to Poets The Ships .... Ode to Patriotism . The Launching of the Quistconk The Heart of the World Clemenceau .... The Founder .... To All Leaders of Men . Brixton Prison 35 37 40 42 44 45 46 48 50 CONTENTS Poems of Appreciation Lines Written in the Alps above Chamonix . 55 To the Smartweed . 59 To William James .... . 61 ToMrs.J.B.T 62 Two Women . . . . 63 The Actress . 64 The Piano-Player . 65 Prevision . 66 To a Nobly-gifted Singer . 67 Katerina Breshkovskaya . 68 Christmas at Melrose . 09 The Metropolitan Tower . 71 A City Park ' . 72 The Symphony .... . 73 The Borglum Statue of Lincoln . 75 She Will Come .... . 76 Spring . 79 The Dogwood .... . 80 May Again . 82 Summer Magic .... . 85 Sacred Music at Sea . 87 Vacation End . 89 Boys Swimming .... . 90 A Legend of the Easter Children . . 91 Songs Sweetest, let no cloud of sorrow Lady who is richer far All through the day I bore the pain Mutatis Mutandis . . , , 97 98 99 100 CONTENTS Poems of the Spirit A Prayer 103 A Far Country 104 Nil Desperandum ...... 105 Ideal 106 The Wonder 108 Watch Night 109 Values 110 Tyrant Beauty Ill The Three Marys .113 Companionship ...... 114 Home is the Heart ...... 115 Compensation . . . . . . 117 Certainty 118 In the Still Night 119 Father Love 120 Divine AjBfinity 121 Learning to Walk 122 The Teacher .124 The Wings of Oppression I HAVE a song that few will sing In honor of all suffering, A song to which my heart can bring The homage of believing — A song the heavy-laden hears Above the clamor of his fears, While still he walks with blinding tears, And drains the cup of grieving. I ask not why, I only see How poor is all our potency, How soon the wise, the strong, the free Some deadly bane discloses ; While he whose bread is doubly priced, By whom all gain is sacrificed. Keeps near to beauty, near to Christ, And Socrates and Moses. The captains and the gilded kings, With all their marshalled underlings, Are found to be but puny things. Impermanent and hollow ; [I] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION While up through terror, blood and dearth. Poor men accounted little worth, Still raise the beacon lights of earth For truth and faith to follow. So long as life is steeped in wrong. And nations cry : ' ' How long, how long ! ' ' I look not to the wise and strong For peace and self-possession; But right will rise, and mercy shine, And justice lift her conquering sign Where lowly people starve and pine Beneath a world oppression. sweet is power, dear is ease, And beauty cannot fail to please. But mightier far than all of these Those chastenings of sorrow By which alone the heart will dare To mount beyond a world of care On visions bright bej^ond compare Of better things tomorrow. [2] POEMS OF MY PEOPLE POEMS OF MY PEOPLE Armageddon Written at the outbreak of the world war, — just after President Wilson's appeal to the country for a "poise of undisturbed judgment," — to express the significance to the trammeled millions of colored peo- ple the world over, and especially to the American Negro, of that spirit of the times which well nigh des- troyed civilization. The poem was originally pub- lished in "The Crisis" under the title, "Die Zeitgeist." BEFORE the whirlwind and the thunder- shock. The agony of nations, and this wild Eruption of the passionate will of man, These tottering bastions of mighty states. This guillotine of culture, and this new Unspeakable Golgotha of the Christ, My heart declares her faith, and, undismaj^ed, I write her prompting — write it in that poise Of judgment undisturbed to which our Head Admonishes the nation. But have I A certain warrant? Does the cannon roar Above the mangled mj^ riads washed in blood [5] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Upon a hundred fields embolden me To vent the doctrine of a private heart ! Nay, ask it not, for God hath chosen still The weak thing, and the foolish, and the base, And that which is despised to work His will ; And humble men are chartered yet to run Upon His errands round the groaning sphere. Not many of the mighty shall be called, Not many that dispute, not many wise. That so the prophecy may be fulfilled. Among the least of men of many strains, Whose origin outdates the pyramids, Uncherished of my country — though the blood Of all my fathers ran to make her free — Known by a name that typifies the slave, Synonj^mous with darkness, and by that Set in the ranks of mortals least esteemed, I claim no merit save the love of truth, And care to find for her a lodging-place. I have been- bred and born beneath the stern Duress and cold inhospitality Of that environment which prejudice Fills consciously with bane ; and I have sought- Blessed be the God of mercy — at the shrine Of thought inviolate the wells of peace. [6] POEMS OP MY PEOPLE There, fortified and unmolested, long Have I in contemplation rued the plight Of all my kind, and reverently aspired To ponder out our mission, unconvinced That we are born the dupes of Providence, To be a nation's burden and her taunt, Or Ishmaels of an unchosen land. My quest has been to know the good of life. And why a race should be, and what endures Of that which man has called society. And — last and highest aim of these pursuits — To learn what perfect service, born of throes Dreadful but purgative, we yet might dare To offer thee, country of our hope. And from these musings — thanks to Him Whose citadels are stars, with time and space Their pylons, but Who builds His favored home Upon the docile trust of lowly hearts — Proceeded comfort, patience to endure. And strength increasing of a faith sublime Which neither infidelity in arms, Nor all the bitter usage of the world Can e^er avail to tarnish or impair. [7] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION For looking out upon the world I saw No hope for future man in those who stand Upon the heights of power, save in the tales Transmitted of their slow decline and fall. Because they spurn the truth of brotherhood, And trade in life, and mock the living God By high contempt of all His humbler sons, The strong battalions of eternal right And nature's law make their discomfort sure. They prove the error of that pride of race And nation which has been the world's despite, And unloosed Mammon for a thousand years. Not all their transient lordship of the earth. Their cunning in the traffic of the world, The condescension of their patronage, Or thundering proclamations of their might, Can check the springs of pity, while our prayers Besiege the throne of mercy for their weal. But looking in upon my stricken peers, I saw upon their swarthy brows ' ' the gleam ; ' ' I saw the lineaments of hope new-born For peoples yet to be. scorn it not, Ye mighty of all lands, ye that are raised To glory on the necks of trampled men ! For now within your midst are multitudes Puissant though despised, meek men of prayer, [8] POEMS OP MY PEOPLE Dark, shackled knights of labor, clinging still Amidst a universal wreck of faith To cheerfulness, and foreigners to hate. These know ye not, these have ye not received, But these shall speak to you Beatitudes. Around them surge the tides of all your strife. Above them rise the august monuments Of all your outward splendor, but they stand Unenvious in thought, and bide their time. Because ye schooled them in the arts of life, And gave to them your God, and poured your blood Into their veins to make them what they are, They shall not fail you in your hour of need. They hold in them enough of you to feel All that has made you masters in your time — The power of art and wealth, unending toil. Proud types of beaut}^, an unbounded will To triumph, wondrous science, and old law — These have they learned to value and to share. But deeper in them still is something steeled To hot abhorrence and unmeasured dread Of your undaunted sins against the light — [9] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Red sins of lust, of envy and of greed, Of guilty gain extorted from the weak, Of brotherhood traduced and God denied. All this have they beheld without revolt. And borne the brunt in agonizing prayer. For those deep strains of blood that flow from times Older than Egypt, whence the dark man gave The rudiments of learning to all lands, Have been a strong constraint. And they have dreamed Of a peculiar mission under heaven. And felt the force of unexampled gifts That make for them a rare inheritance — The gift of cheerful confidence in men. The gift of calm endurance, solacing An infinite capacity for pain, The gift of an unfeigned humilit}^ That blinds the eyes of strident arrogance And bigot pride to that philosophy And that far-glancing wisdom which it veils. The gift of feeling for all forms of life. Of deathless hope in trouble, and of wide Adaptive power without a parallel In chronicles of men, and over all, And more than all besides, the gift of God Expressed in rhj^thmic miracles of song. [10] POEMS OF MY PEOPLE these are gifts, I said a thousand times Richer than Ophir, stronger than the might Of armament to conquer and to cure — Gifts destined yet to permeate the earth, To heal it of its mighty heresies, And all its brutal blasphemy of war. So viewing all my brothers in distress, Hindered and cursed and aliens, I have wept And prayed for them in solitude apart, That they might know themselves a chosen folk. Unrecognized but potent, chastened still. But chartered to be ministers of truth. To search the depths of spirit, to go forth To woo and win a perfect self-control. To breed strong children exercised in prayer, Shunning as they would death the patterns set By those who hold the kingdoms and the sway. So might they with the pregnant years become New arbiters of social destiny, New health veins in the body politic, A high-commissioned people, mingled through With all the bloods of man, and, counselling Peace, and the healing grace of brotherhood, ''Have power in this dark world to lighten it, And power in this dead world to make it live." THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION When through my being, like a lyre strung, These winds of temporal occurrence sweep, I hear a kind of music, high and low. And ranging from the tortured earth to heaven, Throbbing with tragic cadence to express The passing and the coming life of man. And though the tempests rage and earth be stirred To her foundations, though the lucid air Become a menace, and the beauteous world Be bathed in fire, I am undismayed. The cataclysmic travail prophecies The dawn of one world-conscience for all men. The breaking up of caste and race and creed, The warfare of all war against itself. ■^to' And hence in my low place this living peace That grows and deepens, while the staggered frames Of ancient kingdoms reel beneath a weight Of crimes so vast that genius strives in vain To compass them in thought : for out of this, The spirit saith, shall issue other breeds Soul-burdened like my brothers, and like them Despised and trammeled, but sent forth to teach That nothing in the changing world endures But truth and love and brotherhood and God. [12] POEMS OF MY PEOPLE M My Race Y life were lost, if I should keep A hope-forlorn and gloomy face, And brood upon my ills, and weep And mourn the travail of my race. Who are my brothers ? Only those Who were my own complexion swart ? Ah no, but all through whom there flows The blood-stream of a manly heart. Wherever the light of dreams is shed, And faith and love to toil are bound, There will I stay to break my bread, For there my kinsmen will be found. [13] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION y\ Tuskegee THEREFORE this busy labor without ' rest ? Is it an idle dream to which we cling, Here where a thousand dusky toilers sing Unto the world their hope? ''Build we our best By hand and thought," they cry, "although un- blessed. ' ' So the great engines throb and anvils ring. And so the thought is wedded to the thing ; But what shall be the end, and what the test ? Dear God, we dare not answer, we can see Not man}^ steps ahead, but this we knoAV — If all our toilsome building is in vain, Availing not to set our manhood free, If envious hate roots out the seed we sow, The South will wear eternally a stain. [14] POEMS OF MY PEOPLE Freedom O FREEDOM, let thy perfect work be wrought 111 us, the children of a chastened race. Long, long ago in thy benignant face Our fathers saw ''the gleam." They meekly brought Their shackled limbs in faith to thee, and sought Thy heart with prayer; and thou didst rend apace The bonds of men who leaned upon thy grace, Their spirits with a tuneful patience fraught. We call upon thee now no more in chains Such as our fathers wore — from these we're freed — But clanging still the fetters of the soul. ''The gleam" we follow weakty, for we need The Freedom of a sturdy self-control . [15] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Jim C row BY what dread logic, by what grand neglect, Wide as our nation, doth this relic last — This relic of old sterile customs past Long since into deep shame without respect? Even I whom this contrivance fain would teach A low submission, pray within my soul That these my masters may not reap the dole Of finding remedy beyond their reach. In lofty mood I mount the reeking box, And travel through the land. So Terence once Moved in old Rome, so — wondrous paradox — ]\Ioved Esop in old Greece, the dwarf and dunce, Then I reflect how their immortal wit Makes the world laugh with mockery of it. [16] POEMS OF MY PEOPLE *'So Quietly** News item from the New York Times on the lynch- ing of a Negro at Smithville, Ga., December 21, 1919 "The train was boarded so quietly . . . that mem- bers of the train crew did not know that the mob had seized the Negro until informed by the prisoner's guard after the train had left the town A coroner's inquest held immediately returned the ver- dict that West came to his death at the hands of un- identified men." SO quietly they stole upon their prey And dragged him out to death, so without flaw Their black design, that they to whom the law Gave him in keeping, in the broad, bright day, Were not aware when he was snatched away ; And when the people, with a shrinking awe, The horror of that mangled body saw, ' ' By unknown hands ! ' ' was all that they could say. So, too, my country, stealeth on apace The soul-blight of a nation. Not with drums Or trumpet blare is that corruption sown, [17] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION But quietly — now in the open face Of day, now in the dark — and when it comes, Stern truth will never write, "By hands un- known. ' ' fi81 POEMS OF MY PEOPLE Cora I WOULD that you knew my Cora, Lithe, high-mmded, buoj^ant maid, Her face is dusk like the twilight shade, But her fine teeth gleam, and her eyes are bright With a heartening mirth and a tender light. I would that you knew my Cora. I would you could see my Cora. Sometimes we walk upon the street And many a fairer lady meet : AVith gay apparel and lofty air The}" haven't so much as a glance to spare For passing dusky Cora. Then I look over at Cora. Her step is light, her head is high. The joy of living is in her eye. She seems a part of all she sees — It is one and the same if the ladies please To look or not to Cora. [19] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Once when I walked with Cora We hungered in the tedious way And turned aside for bread, but they Who kept the place in whispers said That dusky folk they never fed, Folk like myself and Cora. I would you had then seen Cora. The surge of pride that filled her heart Compelled one burning tear to start. But she brushed it by with a queenly shame, Nor spoke one word of wrath or blame, But went forth blithely as she came, And I went forth with Cora. 20j POEMS OF MY PEOPLE To a Caged Canary in a Negro Restaurant THOU little golden bird of happy song! A cage cannot restrain the rapturous joy Which thou dost shed abroad. Thou dost employ Thy bondage for high uses. Grievous wrong Is thine ; yet in thy heart glows full and strong The tropic sun, though far beyond thy flight, And though thou flutterest there by da}^ and night Above the clamor of a dusky throng. So let my will, albeit hedged about B}^ creed and caste, feed on the light within ; So let my song sing through the bars of doubt With light and healing where despair has been ; So let my people bide their time and place, A hindered but a sunny-hearted race. [21] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Mater Dolorosa O MOTHER, there are moments when I knoAV God's presence to the full. The city street May \ATap me m the tumult and the heat Of futile striving; bitter winds may blow With winter-wilting freeze of hail and snow, And all my hopes lie shattered in defeat ; But in my heart the springtime blossoms sweet, And heaven seems very near the way I go. These moments are the angels of that prayer Which thou has breathed for many a troubled year With bended knee and swarthy-streaming face — "Uphold him, Father, with a double care: He is but mortal, yet his days must bear The world cross, and the burden of his race. ' ' [22] POEMS OP MY PEOPLE The Black Man's Bit O THERE 'S talk from school to pulpit, and the barber's place is rife, And the shoe shop and the supper table hum. With the tale of Dixie 's black men who have shared the mighty strife For that freedom of the better time to come. Every mother's eye is brighter, every father's back is straighter. And our girls are tripping lightly in their pride, And by none except a Teuton, or a slacker, or a traitor, Will the right to their elation be denied. They said they were too slow, too dull, too this and that to do it. They couldn 't match the method of the Hun, And then to arm a million — why, the land would surely rue it If a million blacks were taught to use a gun. But right won out, and they went in at all de- tractors smiling; They learned as quick as any how to shoot, [23] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION They took the prize at loading ships, and rivet- ing and piling, And trained a thousand officers to boot. And when they went 'twas with a boon no others had been bringing, For whether with a pick or with a gun, They lightened every labor with a wondrous sort of singing, And turned the pall of battle into fun. the Frenchman was a marvel, and the Yankee was a wonder. And the British line was like a granite wall. But for singing as they leaped away to draw the Kaiser's thunder, The swarthy sons of Dixie beat them all. And now that they have helped to break the rattling Hunnish sabre, They'll trail the Suwanee River back again To Dixie home, and native song, and school and honest labor. To be as men among their fellow-men. No special thanks or praise they'll ask, no clap- ping on the shoulder — They did their bit, and won, and all men know it— [24] POEMS OF MY PEOPLE And Dixie will be proud of them, and grown a little older, And wiser, too, will welcome them and show it. [25] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION To the Chinese REJOICE, ancient brothers of the East. I hear your voices thrill across the seas, And hail you, too, unto the marriage feast Of waking men. Did not the Japanese Put on the wedding garments bright and new Though long denied by silly creeds of skin. Rise ye, and break the ''cake of custom" through, And, at the New World bidding, enter in. Faint not, brothers, if the forward way Must lie through fire and famine, death and blood. There follow you the kindling sympathies Of other trammeled millions, and some day These shall pour forth in swarthy hordes and flood Some worthy field, and be your staunch allies. [26] POEMS OP MY PEOPLE Matto Grosso In the unexplored fastnesses of Brazil, known as Matto Grosso, the great South American scientist and statesman, Rondon, has proved the power of unafraid democracy to elevate a backward race. His great work has brought hope and inspiration to millions of colored people here in the northern con- tinent. THY fastnesses are like the untried depths Of the unfathomed soul of man — as dark, As terrible, as full of healing balm, With danger lurking where no eye can see, Trackless and wild, j^et docile to the touch Of sympathy, and pregnant with all good, ^he shadows brooding like a guilty thought About thee bar the long-besieging sun, And lure the mind to prophecy and fear. Thou art a mighty mother boasting in An inexhaustible fecundity. What breathing, struggling, furtive, feral thing Hast thou not brought to life ! Thy vastness teems ."27] THE WINGS OP OPPRESSION With such an upward urge of flaming trees, Of vine and herb and flower and weed and shrub, Of little swarming insect parasites, Of fiery creatures bent upon their prey, Of birds with all the colors God has made, That nature could herself dream nothing more. And thou hast bred a race of primal men — A child-like folk. They stand within the doors Of the great mansion-house of fateful time, Gazing within the chambers of the past ' Where all their kinsmen died in tragedy, And with a little fleeting smile of hope As they look out upon the times to come — Surviving naked men, the challengers Of judgment and of all democracy. And yet thou art a virgin. Thou dost hold Thy untouched treasures all inviolate, Till men with wider knowledge, finer skill. With passionate devotion, and a faith That makes it joy to bind their lives to thee With all their fortunes and unstinted toil, Shall woo thy heart and win thee to themselves. Then from thy womb shall spring another breed Of new-world people teeming to possess Thy future, to unlock thy nameless stores And use the fullness of thy virile strength [28] POEMS OF MY PEOPLE To build a fair new nation of free men In justice, mercy, brotherhood and truth. wild demesne, thou art a wilderness, And yet thou art to me a promised land More wonderful than that which Israel Sought by the special leadership of God. For one there is already called to be More than thy Moses, one who holds the wand Of modern science that shall make thy voice Articulate, and link thy largesse up With all its multiplying benefits. By open pathwa^^s to the waiting world — Rondon, thy bounteous father. Let me tell How thy warm southern winds have wafted on His name to stir our harsher northern clime, How I, myself, son of a race oppressed. Have seen afar there in thy tropic sun His banner fl3ang high with God's good will Emblazoned bold upon it, and how all My troubled brothers grasp anew at life With firmer confidence because of him. 'Tis he, and such as he alone, whose hand Can mend the riven fabric of the world, Or use the fragile instruments of peace [29] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION In that dread surgery whose end shall be To lop from off the body of mankind The cancerous, fetid, tumor-growth of war. Land of all marvels, I will end my song. My prayerful song of honor unto thee, By deep thanksgiving to thy mother soul For pouring down from forest, hill and glade Unnumbered multitudes of little streams And springs that grow to rivers rushing on To find the sea. Where is the like of these For number or for meaning ! Where is earth So laved, so watered without ceasing, or So nurtured into all productiveness? For ages have those waters run their course At length unto the ocean, blending there With all the tides that beat upon the shores Of every habitable land. In vain Have they for ages gathered there to sing That life is one, and man and God are one. And love and truth and beauty all are one. [30] POEMS OF MY PEOPLE Self-Determination The philosophy of the American Negro FOUR things we will not do, in spite of all That demons plot for our decline and fall ; We bring four benedictions w^hich the meek Unto the proud are privileged to speak, Four gifts by which amidst all stern-browed races We move Avith kindly hearts and shining faces. We ivill not hate. Law, custom, creed and caste, All notwithstanding, here we hold us fast. Down through the years the mighty sliips of state Have all been broken on the rocks of hate. We will not cease to laugh and multiply We slough oif trouble, and refuse to die. The Indian stood unyielding, stark and grim; We saw^ him perish, and we learned of him To mix a grain of philosophic mirth With all the crass injustices of earth. [31] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION We will not use the ancient carnal tools These never won, yet centuries of schools, Of priests, and all the work of brush and pen Have not availed to win the wisest men From futile faith in battleship and shell : "We see them fall, and mark that folly well. We will not waver in our loyalty. No strange voice reaches us across the sea ; No crime at home shall stir us from this soil. Ours is the guerdon, ours the blight of toil, But raised above it by a faith sublime We choose to suffer here and bide our time. And if we hold to this, we dream some day Our countrymen will follow in our way . 32 POEMS OF THE TIMES POEMS OF THE TIMES A Call to Poets 1 RISE up from dalliance with little things, poets of all lands. Your golden age Is now, and all the world your heritage. The nations perish till ye sweep the strings With re-creative music. He that sings With poAver now to calm the peoples' rage Will bind the future to his tutelage, And give the heav^^-laden present wings. Where is your lost dominion? Once ye framed A heaven of beauty pillared firm in peace. And ye were called the shepherds of the soul By what default was that high priesthood shamed ? How did the magic of your music cease To win the human heart, and keep it whole? 2 The world is all a wrack and battle-storm. Stand not abashed while the red warriors break The heart of Christ, and blundering statesmen quake [35] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION In impotence. Build in great verse that norm By which to mold this chaos back to form. Let not one line be lawless, lest ye make A wider wreckage still. Now must ye wake The lyre of peace with passion deep and warm. Tell mortals that the tides of night and day, The dewdrop, and the planet's mighty swing Nay, life and death itself, must all obey The eternal harmonies that poets sing. And that to raise up beauty over war Is all ye come to earth from heaven for. [36] POEMS OF THE TIMES The Ships WHAT heart of man did never glow To see the great ships come and go, Or feel what miracles are these Upon the highway of the seas. Whenever I go to the harbor shore The wonder holds me more and more Until my spirit yearns to cry Out to the vessels drifting by : "Bold breasters of the wind and tide, On what far errands do you ride? Your funnels fume and your engines strain To speed you over the tided main. And all the harbor is gay and bright Where your colors fly and the waves curl white From man}^ a sturdy-cleaving keel. But do 3^ou ride for woe or weal ? And when the weary course is done, What good for human kind is won?" And the stately vessels drifting by Seem thus to deign a prompt reply : *'We herald the fate of human souls By a thousand ways to a thousand goals, U7] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION And set at naught wind, tide and weather To bring the tribes of the earth together. Whether the skies are gray or blue We plough the mounting billows through, Lest we should seem to give suspense To the mighty plan of Providence. For God has said His people all Are one, and the}^ shall hear the call Each of the other, and each shall speed In His good time to the other's need. And they shall come from northern snows, From the torrid isle where the monsoon blows, From the farthest plains and mountain tips, And all go down to the sea in ships. And none shall have a gift or skill. Or an}^ power of mind or will, Or any good the hand hath wrought, Or any luring dream or thought Of truth or beauty yet to be The graces of humanity. But we must bear it safe and fast. Or flash it out from the top of the mast Upon the pulses of the air To all the people everywhere. We carry the tares with the wholesome grain. And the joy we bear is born of pain. And death is with us and disease, [38] POEMS OF THE TIMES And we must fare through crimsoned seas Till men of every land and race Shall know each other face to face. And all shall take and all shall give, And all shall learn at last to live And labor for the sovereign good Of universal brotherhood." [39] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Ode to Patriotism FAIR goddess, though thy devotees Are men of every land and tongue, Thy heart they never yet could please; And though thy majesty is sung By statesman, warrior and bard, Still on thy brow a stern regard Proves thy disdain, and quickening their fears. Brings them before thy fane in bitterness and tears. As when a suitor, plighting all His troth unto some high-souled maid, Makes protestations prodigal. But finds her loftily afraid, And still reluctant to aver Like passion, till that love of her Enters the temple of her purer mind As homage less for one than for all womankind — So, holier mistress, hast thou shown Why still we fall on horrid days, Why our best hopes are overthrown [40] POEMS OF THE TIMES In spite of all our prayer and praise ; For thou wouldst have our love expand Beyond mere race or bounded land, And thou wouldst test our proffered troth to thee By what we deeply crave for all humanity . Build up again our broken faith, Fair deity ; unloose the gyves Of hate ; allay the gruesome wraith Of murderous war ; and lead our lives Back to the peace that springs of love For man as man, and mounts above Land, caste, or creed ! teach our wrathful time That brotherhood is still man's destiny sublime. [41] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION The Launching of the Quistconk T'TTE launcli more than a ship today. y V Down her smooth ways unto the tide She bears in every seam and stay A mighty nation's marshalled pride. Before her stern, majestic hnlk Our distant higher vision sees Crime, frightfulness and treason skulk To certain doom on humbled knees. We launch more than a ship today: We hear more than our chieftain's word. The earth, the air, the watery way Are thronged with millions who are stirred To will that this good ship shall be, With all her strength and treasure store, And all her Christian chivalry, The herald of a thousand more. And these shall follow in her wake In ever quickening degrees. Until the endless line shall make That bridge of ships across the seas, At whose far end the hosts of God [42] POEMS OF THE TIMES Shall stand ^vitll all the power of ^arth, To raise up justice from the sod And give to freedom her new birth. [43] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION The Heart of the World THE men of war and the men of state Grope in the sloughs of blood and hate, The great guns range upon the seas, But the heart of the world is not in these. The weary chronicles still tell How tj'ranny and tyrant fell, But the heart of the world, Lord, how far From captain, kaiser, king or czar! The empty pomp of force and pride Has lived its brutal day and died. And all the gods of arrogance Have fled before the winds of chance, While time and fate conspire to plan A highwa}^ for the rights of man. And now where toilers feel the sting Of utter need and suffering. Where men are tortured from belief. And women manacled to grief. Where childhood walks in wild despair, The heart of all the world is there. [44] POEMS OF THE TIMES Clemence au On the attempt upon his life HE rode on tempests through a span of years That bridged two generations. Round his name Blew all the fitful winds of praise and blame : France heaped on him her plaudits and her sneers. And he was not deceived — he had his fears — But kept his patriot zeal bright as a flame ; And when upon his land the fire storms came, France gave him all her trust with grateful tears. So when the crazed assassin failed, we said : ' ' May the kind will of God preserve him yet. Far nobler men may rise when he is dead, But this of him mankind will not forget — When earth shook with the tramping hordes of hell, He stood across their path, and held it well. ' ' [45] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION The Founder To THE STATUE OF WiLLIAM PeNN, CiTY HalL, Philadelphia, when peace was proclaimed, November 11, 1918. SWIFTER than Avind the mighty message came That t^^ranny had fallen, that the crime By which the great high traitor of our time Had fixed upon his race the foulest fame, And covered the whole earth with dread and shame And all the spawn of hell 's own murk and grime. Was purged away at last by that sublime Wrath of the world that rose in freedom's name. Then long-leashed passion broke upon the air And shook the city — cries of joy and grief, Wild, clamorous thanksgiving everywhere That God had brought mankind again relief, And never was a people known to be So caught away in utter ecstacy . [46] POEMS OF THE TIMES Then lifted I mine eyes to where thy face, Turned from the lurid night where king and throne Were sinking with the sun, looked forth alone Steadfastly to the dawn. Around thy base The tumult swept, but in that lofty place Thy form without a motion or a tone. Stood like a prophet who had long outgrown The fleeting passions of the human race. And one calm hand extended seemed to say, ''Through travail of the ages, blood and pain. Freedom indeed is born anew today ; build ye now the bulwarks of her reign, Nor dare to dream the shouting triumph won Can yet avail until her work is done." [47] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION To All Leaders of Men THREE things there are that men will do Leaders of men, beware ! Your calling and election true Will shine, if they have faith that you Their stubborn purpose share. Men ivill see men as only men, masters, take ye heed ! No one shall hold the rights of ten, No mortal be divine again No counsel, pact, or creed. Men will he hold to follow thought. captains, ye shall find The peoples of the earth distraught By being merely led and taught, But now they have a mind. And men will share the wealth they make — To this of all attend. The worker for the worker's sake Will prove his power to give and take. That ancient greed may end. [48] POEMS OF THE TIMES Go not to wordy halls of state, Ye wise that can discern This threefold tidal pull of fate That rocks the world — too late, too late The statesmen stoop to learn. But through the w^aj^s w^here labor stalks Portentous with its load, The soul of God's great future talks, The genius of His purpose walks, And there must be your road. [49] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Brixton Prison A Tribute to Lord Mayor MacSwiney of Cork who died on a hunger strike for the CAUSE OF Irish freedom. THE guard about thy somber walls May keep a martyr's limbs confined, But not the dauntless soul that calls The challenged conscience of mankind. MacSwine}^, wasting in the dark Forespent of all his manly use, Transforms a life into the spark That set the fires of freedom loose. He would not bend before the rude Attempt to make his life a lie; He scorned to taste oppression's food; He chose to be a man and die. Brixton prison, surely thou Art raised above thy base design: Thy terrors all are gone, and now Thou hast become a nation's shrine. [SO] POEMS OF THE TIMES And thou, lord mayor ! Now thy rule Far out from mourning Cork expands Thy spirit has become a school For patriot heroes in all lands. 50 POEMS OF APPRECIATION POEMS OP APPRECIATION Lines Written in the Alps Above Chamounix HERE had one voice almost persuaded me To yield with sweet surrender all my heart In fee to endless beauty, here to bide And count as nothing worth the flight of days. Nor could I break at will the subtle spell That held me, as it hath held many more, With power that was more than argument. Forbear attempt at vain expression here ! Poet and painter both alike despair: A surfeit of all grandeur overwhelms The boldest gift, and dwarfs imagining. Here silence, and unutterable thought, And the blest gift of feeling must suffice. No monarch could be raised to higher state Than you or yonder careless shepherd girl That minds the grazing of the tinkling kine. Your meanest seat is heather royal-hued Girdled with nodding berries black and red, And flaming poppies sated with the sun, [55] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Your carpet satin green, your body-guard Soft winds that blow a cooling for your brow To mock fan-bearers at the Sultan's throne. Dear music shall not fail you: evermore Upon your ear shall sound the clear flute note Of dripping water, or the happier tone Of slender streams that leap from bolder walls Singing of freedom from the t3^rant ice. Or, nobler still, up from the vale shall rise The river music of assembled streams In symphonies of service to the world. Look down upon that valley : there behold Sweet homes with human kindness heaven-dow- ered. Those husbandmen have not yet pawned their souls For bagatelles of profit, young men there Are not yet sickly, and the rosy dames Bear children that go springing to the fields. They make their valley plain lie in the sun Like some rich quilting wonderfull}" wrought In squares and angles of productiveness. Nor is the blessed Christ there travestied By sterile worship lavish of all forms And ceremonies, while its devotees [56] POEMS OF APPRECIATION Dishonor still a long-offended God By lofty scorn of all his humbler sons. Those reverent men give fearless benison To Mongol, Semite, African or Turk : They plant their crucifixes by the road. Or rear their cherished shrines upon the rocks As precious tokens and remembrancers To all men of the Universal Cross. For proof of God's unfettered pleasure here, Look up about those summits where he pours The light of morning round the monstrous ice, Round frosted peaks, and hanging frigid plains. Until they shower down a shining joy Upon thy lifted head, fill full thy soul With gladness that transfigures all the vale, And make the terrible a thing to love. The white refulgence of those argent snows Shall follow thee throughout the happy day With images of purity and peace, And nevermore shalt thou be what thou wert. Or, if at noon thy heart be prone to droop For sheer satiety of loveliness, Or beauty fail of strength, up through some cloud Soft as etheral eider-down will rise [57] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION The nakedness of brazen granite towers That were the pillars of the primal world; Eons of fury have they set at naught, And all the gnawing of the tooth of time : And these at noon shall be thy ministers When they hold up to God their gleaming crowns, And call thy human weakness back to strength. And 0, when downward rides the lordly sun Behind those summits, richer guerdons wait To hearten him who lingers to behold. Then the flushed earth strains up her jeweled head Towards the red passion of the bending skies ; Then the bright trees, the high green fields, the crags That pierce the clouds with menace, and the ice That shines upon them, all are built away In steep sierras like some glorious stair For angels mounting towards the face of God. And when at last the night has brought thee sleep, Th}^ couch shall be companioned by some dream Of what thine eyes have seen and thy heart felt ; And though the thought of never waking more Steal o'er thy frame, thou sh alt be satisfied. [58] POEMS OF APPRECIATION To the Smartweed 1 THOU art far more to me than blight and bane Alone, as rustics deem, who thus deny Thy regal Vvdll and martial quality. Often have I beheld the angered swain Charge through thy ranks with horse and steel in vain, And often have I seen the children try With gleaming blade to make thy banners fly Till every scion of thy stock was slain. But when the havoc tarried I have seen Thy striplings spring again to take the field, Choke the strong tuber, rout the bean forlorn, Shade every valued plant with insolent green, Constrain the earth to their prolific yield, And wave their purpling tops above the corn. 2 With plow and chain I saw the husbandman Tear up thy roots to Avither in the heat, [59] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION And drag thy foliage down to make a seat For the brown odorous furrow-crest that ran Across the mead where thy career began : But every blade and stalk that met defeat Rose up transfigured into sheaves of wheat, And wrought a conquest by a subtler plan. Ah, then I knew that he is more than blind And dim of thought who cannot surely see In thee the symbol of a world of men Swept down to darkness by the torrid wind Blown from the caves of fate eternally, In whom posterity will rise again. [60] POEMS OF APPRECIATION To William James DEVOTEDLY he watched the silent stream Of consciousnesSj and from the shifting brink, In lucid phrase, taught thousands how to think. No straightened logic's thrall, he prized the gleam i Of truth in all experience : the dream To him Avas precious too. He dared to link Reality with wonder, and to sink The plumb of thought down where all mysteries teem. Where is the light we knew upon his face — The zest for knowledge, searching and intense ? Gone out for aye in darkness deep and strange ? Or do they now at last find scope and place Where Thales still propounds the elements, And Heraclitus broods, " 'Tis only Change!" [6i] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION To Mrs. Jane B. Taylor SHALL I compare thee to the winter snow? So spotless is thy heart, but never cold: What though thy locks be changed from sunny gold To silver, still that perfect brow doth glow With human interest, still thou sayest, ''Go Straight forward, trust the dream, be strong, and hold The faith that love, with all its griefs untold, Is better than the fairest thing we know." So when the winter of my days shall fall, And snow lies white upon the barren ground Where I have wandered long, and learned the truth Of life, and drunk the wormwood and the gall, let my bosom, full of years, be found Still bearing the immortal heart of youth. [62] POEMS OF APPRECIATION Two Women JUST as my wonted task was done And day was fast declining, Two women passed, the low red sun Upon their faces shining. Their ample cloaks were gathered warm Against the winter weather; Their heads were bare, and arm in arm They crossed the lawn together. They seemed two spirits to inspire Even a mortal craven, For one had hair like a flame of fire, And one like the wing of a raven. With springy step, they passed along In joyous, bright communing, And in my heart there came a song I found delight in crooning. Come forth, masters, if you may. And choose, if you are able. The golden brightness of the day, Or the deep, deep night in sable. [63] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION The Actress '^T^HINK not her days are but an idle show JL Of artificial manners, speech and dress, Or that her meed of honor should be less Because her heart lives where the footlights glow Upon the garish scene, with weal and woe Of mimic passion. Let the happiness Of her brief hour be full : that bright success Is purchased far more dearly than we know. Pity, the wrapt spectators little sense Her nobler grace ! To "hold the mirror up," And thereby win the favor of our eyes Were well ; but what applause can recommense The tempered soul that drains the bitter cup Of a continual self-sacrifice ! [64] POEMS OF APPRECIATION The Piano-Player DLSTPv AUGHT with care, I said, ''Here shall be found A solace for great losses. Long ago, One gentle soul could lure away my woe Upon Beethoven's music; for he croAvned A world of sorrow with a heaven of sound. Thanks to the genius that has willed it so Those deathless harmonies again may flow From out this perforated scroll unwound." Then wondrous came the swelling chords, and sweet The troubled minor strain ; but how changed From the dear tones that brought my j^ounger heart A chastened wealth of happiness complete, When o'er the board her perfect fingers ranged With such expressive grace that tears would start ! [65] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Prevision From the Portugese of Alberto de Oliveira I KNEW thy smile was but a passing spell, And yet I loved it — I loved it well. I loved the radiant meaning of thine eyes, Knowing that they would fail me, and likewise. Though breathed upon the wind, I had no choice But still to love the passion of thy voice. Now all has vanished — all is ended now — Enchanted voice, enamored glance. In vain I knew it would be so, and know not how It can avail me now if I complain. [66] POEMS OF APPRECIATION To a Nobly-Gifted Singer ALL the pleasance of her face Telleth of an inward grace; In her dark eyes I have seen Sorrows of the Nazarene ; In the proud and perfect mould Of her body I behold, Rounded in a single view The good, the beautiful, the true; And when her spirit goes up-winging On sweet air of artless singing Surely the heavenly spheres rejoice In union with a kindred voice. [67] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Katerina Breshkovskaya *'nnpIOU Shalt die in the midst of thy battles," I They said of this mother of thought, When she bared to her countrymen, bared to the world, The evil a tyrant had wrought. But the tyrant was strong, and his minions, And they harried her out of the land, To the blight and the death of the frozen steppes, And the word she had uttered was banned. But that word was a fire, and prospered. And her thought was a wind and a rain. And it beat on the palace that stood on the sand. And it fell, and the tyrant was slain. who would not fall in such battles. What death could a mortal prefer, In the world-girding fight for honor and right, To the glory of dying like her! [68] POEMS OF APPRECIATION Christmas at Melrose C^OME home with me a little space J And browse about our ancient place, Lay by your wonted troubles here And have a turn of Christmas cheer. These sober walls of weathered stone Can tell a romance of their own, And these wide rooms of devious line Are kindly meant in their design. Sometimes the north wind searches through, But he shall not be rude to you. We'll light a log of generous girth For winter comfort, and the mirth Of health}^ children you shall see About a sparkling Christmas tree. Eleanor, leader of the fold, Hermione with heart of gold, Elaine with comprehending eyes, And two more yet of coddling size, Nathalie pondering all that's said. And Mary of the cherub head — All these shall give you sweet content And care-destroying merriment, [69] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION While one with true madonna grace Moves round the glowing fire-place Where father loves to muse aside And grandma sits in silent pride. And you may chafe the wasting oak, Or freely pass the kindly joke To mix with nuts and home-made cake And apples set on coals to bake. Or some fine carol we will sing In honor of the Manger-King, Or hear great Milton's organ verse. Or Plato's dialogue rehearse What Socrates with his last breath Sublimely said of life and death. These dear delights we fain would share With friend and kinsman everywhere, And from our door see them depart Each with a little lighter heart. [701 POEMS OF APPRECIATION The Metropolitan Tower LOOK down securely from thy dizzy height, soaring tower, upon the little street Where men below like termites seem to crawl In insignificance. Thou couldst not fear Comparison with any mighty pile From Babel or the pyramids till now. The clamor and confusion round thy base Shall never vex thy summit : there the sun Shall sit while twilight gathers at thy feet. Thy shoulders mock the straining of the storms, And if the earth be loyal to her trust, Old time shall waste his tooth in wasting thee. Thou art as wonderful to me as Blanc Or Fiji Yama or Niagara — These are the work of God, but thou of Man. It is thy privilege to symbolize In giant form the saving truth of art — That beauty's handmaid is utility, And strenofth their bond of love. [71] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION A City Park THE travail of the world roars like the sea Throughout the city-traffic, strife and haste, And all the petty trade wherein men waste The noblest graces of humanity. The sounding streets are thronged incessantly With feverish hordes driven and overpaced By the sharp whips of need, with little taste Or time for that which life was meant to be. But here is hope — here is a rescued spot. Where beauty waits in fountain, grass and flow- er, Where children play, and men turn from the hot, Mad mill of labor for a quiet hour To feel the cooling wash of the summer breeze. And glimpse the calm of heaven through the trees. [72] POEMS OF APPRECIATION The Symphony I THINK there scarcely can be given Nobler harmonies in heaven ; Seraph harps and voices swelling Could not be more heart-compelling; For these instruments have found All the ministries of sound, And their shriving tones have won me Far more good than priests have done me. What troublous passion-stirring comes Upon the thunder-rolling drums ! What weakness could withstand the scorns Blown by the bold courageous horns ! What grace is that the spirit needs Uncompassed by the lowly reeds, And who could keep a truce with sins That heard the pleading violins ! Oh, I was weary when I came To listen, for the sham and shame And poverty of mortal fare Are heavy weights for souls to bear. But, when I left, a flame of light Went with me through the solemn night, [7Z] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION I walked in splendor in a place Large as illimitable space, Peace through the mists of doubting smiled, And life and death were reconciled. [74] POEMS OF APPRECIATION The Borglum Statue of Lincoln in the Court House Square, Newark, N. J. I THINK there is no other monument Raised up to merit out of brass or stone So beautiful as this : it stands alone, Outreaching far the artist's first intent, By grace of one sweet human incident . Round all the high, horsed heroes I have known An undisturbed indifference has grown, Which neither time nor wonder can prevent. But he is on the ground, and children play Upon his knees, and stroke the earnest face That shines with their caresses, and all day He is their comfort in the public place : The rigid bronze itself cannot conceal That sheltering heart which little children feel. [75] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION She Will Come AFTER a tedious day Of unavailing toil, Weary of heart and brain, Disconsolate and faint, I seek my friendly couch For respite and release, Repeating as I go "Tomorrow she will come." The darkness and the deep, Cool silence of the night Enwrap me, and I dream. Then in a happy place Upon a far green hill The sunlight shines again. There the warm winds distil From hyacinth and rose Their sweet quintessences To be the breath of life. There singing streams floAV down From fountains crystalline, [76] POEMS OF APPRECIATION And on their mossy banks The Nereids and fauns Dance to the reeds of Pan In glad abandonment. There the lithe Oreads Ply every game and sport In honor of the trees, And jocund forests shake Their ancient sides in mirth. Color and light and shade, And all dear harmonies Of poesy and truth And fellowship are there. There the great boon of health And innocent content Lead on the grateful hours, And every heart is free. And pain and aching thought, And tedium and care Are alien enemies. And when the sun retires Behind the arras drawn Across the stage of day. The night begins a new Succession of delights With moon, and golden stars, And blessed memories THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Of music that has ceased, And a wide heaven of dreams. Then I awake and say, ''This is the day she comes." [78] POEMS OF APPRECIATION Spring SWEET are the maiden promises of spring, Her voice comes wandering like some mut- ed tone From far-off symphonies, and everything She wears is but a veiling lightly thrown Around the form of beauty. She will seem Demurely chaste and reticent awhile, But in her eyes is youth's eternal dream , And all the light of passion in her smile. When the bold sun, her lover, argues down Her shy reserves, then Avill her lips confess Her timorous deep desire, and she will crown Her fealty with wondrous fruitfulness. And Avhen her time is done, the earth will praise Her blithe and rosy breed of summer days. [79] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION The Dogwood IT is a rare delight to see The snow-bloom of the dogwood tree All virginal against the sheen Of April 's early budding green. When violet and buttercup Their timid heads are lifting up, When dandelions fringe the pass And dews have gemmed the tender grass, He opens to the morning light His fragrant chalices of white. He cannot stay : he comes to show That spring intends the heart shall know Yet once again the primal Avortli Of all the loveliness of earth — The cordial sky, the thought of flowers, Of friendly trees and singing bowers, The angel spirits all the day Around us where the children play, Fair fields of grain that promise soon Their cornucopias of June, And sweet romance that never fails Of lovers and of bridal veils. [80] POEMS OF APPRECIATION A little term of shade and sun, And all his ministry is done. A fitting symbol seemeth he Of all onr fair mortality : So youth departs ; so not for long Abides the ecstacy of song ; So brief are all the splendors laid About the dawn ; so faces fade ; So dies the moonlight on a stream; And so is life a little dream. [8i] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION May Again AGAIN the southern winds at ease Caress the blossom-laden trees, AVhile 'er the heavens gay Is writ in gold and hues of wine A brightly blazoned script divine — May comes again, sweet May. Again what glories wake the dawn, And how old warrior trouble, wan And weak, is driven out ; With what clear throats the sparrows sing, HoAV musical the drone bee's wing. And how the children shout ! Four walls are all too narrow now — I follow where the sturdy plow Has turned the fragrant mead, Where growing green things rise in line Like soldiers, or where soft-eyed kine On new-spring grasses feed. [82] POEMS OF APPRECIATION But sweeter than all nature rife With song- and bloom that zest of life Which fills the spirit up With joy new-born of homely food And peace that whispers "God is good," And overruns my cup. what of the dreams that faded fast, Or the fickle "gleam" that glanced and passed, Or the wine that turned to rue. 1 hold a wand, as May can vow. With magic healing, and somehow The heavens and earth are new. In coat of hope-and-courage clad, I am a bold Sir Galahad, On quests that cannot fail. For with clear vision now I see That one who daih^ walks with me Holds up the holy Grail. [83] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION L 'Envoi wonder love, whose tender might Through checkered years of cloud and light Has been both balm and goad, Be thou my May when winters chill, My Sarras set upon a hill, The ending of ni}^ road. [84] POEMS OF APPRECIATION Summer Magic SO maii}^ cares to vex the day, So many fears to haunt the night, My heart was all but weaned away From every lure of old delight. Then summer came, announced by June, With beauty, miracle and mirth. She hung aloft the rounding moon, She poured her sunshine on the earth, She drove the sap and broke the bud. She set the crimson rose afire, She stirred again my sullen blood, And waked in me a new desire. Before my cottage door she spread The softest carpet nature weaves, And deftly arched above my head A canopy of shady leaves. Her nights were dreams of jeweled skies. Her days were bowers rife with song, And many a scheme did she devise To heal the hurt and soothe the wrong. For on the hill or in the dell. Or where the brook went leaping by [85] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Or where the fields would surge and swell With golden wheat or bearded rye, I felt her heart against my own, I breathed the SAveetness of her breath. Till all the eark of time had flown, And I was lord of life and death. [86] POEMS OF APPRECIATION Sacred Music at Sea ARISE, dear music ! 'er the rolling waves Let harmony abound in praise of Him Whose mighty hand upholds us, and who saves Our course from erring, though the way be dim. Tell of the warring waters, and the sky That calms them on the red horizon's rim, And how the clouds are shepherded on high By winds that blow a tribute unto Him. Speak, trombone, of the horrid ocean blast, Cry, cornet, to the fimw hordes that swim Far down where none can fathom, slow or fast, On errands of sure service unto Him. Say, baritones and altoes, how the light Of stars in heaven guides the seraphim. Till the unshadowed sun dissolves the night To blaze a golden pathway unto Him. Sound, drums and tubas, like a thunder storm, Scream clarionets, like bold sea gulls that skim The curling billow, on whose awful form Their dail}^ food is offered up by Him. [87] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Let rippling notes from the small piccolo Be for the compass tremulous and slim, But pointing through all gloom the way we go By laws immutably ordained of Him. And let the heart of every instrument Laud the good ship that heeds not any whim Of wind or flood, but faithful and unspent Makes for the harbor built of old by Him. rise, ye hymns of all the lands that be, And if for joy mine eyes shall overbrim, It is that though we all go down to sea In ships we cannot drift afar from Him. [88] POEMS OF APPRECIATION Vacation End FROM the charm of radiant faces, From the days we took to dream, From the joy of open spaces. From the mountain and the stream, Bronzed of sunlight, nerves a-tingie, Keen of limb and clear of head, Sliced we back again to mingle In the battle for our bread. Now again the stern commanding Of the chosen task is heard. And the tyrant, care, is standing Arbiter of deed and word. But the radiance is not ended, And the joy, whate'er the cost, Which those fleeting days attended Never can be wholly lost. For we bring to waiting duty, To the labor and the strife. Something of the sense of beauty. And a fairer view of life. [89] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Boys Swimming THERE scarcely is a finer thing to see Than lithe lads swimming in a running stream, Cleaving the tide with breast-stroke gracefully, The waters slipping by with wave and gleam. They make delight of one vast element Which mankind looked upon so long with fear, Taught unawares to be self-confident In venturing' a hazardous career. [90] POEMS OF APPRECIATION A Legend of the Easter Children THE legends say children were first To be abroad that Easter day When morning out of darkness burst, And angels rolled the stone away. For children's hearts are quick to feel The deadening pall of mortal pain, And children's hearts are first to heal When light and comfort come again. And they had loved the Lord Christ's face, And on His knees had laughed and cried. And heard Him say the heavenly place Is where all child-like souls abide. And they had often heard Him tell Strong men, by pride and greed defiled. That they could never please Him well Till they were humble as a child And they had heard the tale that grieves All little hearts : how one so dear W^as nailed upon a cross with thieves. And tortured with a poisoned spear ; And how the temple's wondrous veil Was riven by the lightning stroke, [91] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION While, mingled with the women's wail, The earthquake and the thunder broke ; And how there came from northern seas A terrified brigade of gulls, Swept on by some unearthly breeze, To scream above the place of skulls; And how black night came down at noon, And ghosts, from graves that opened wide. Skulked out beneath a blood-red moon, When He that loved the children died. For two long days no girl or boy In Galilee or Jordan plain • Could laugh or sing, for hope and joy In every little heart was slain. But when the earth, that third day morn, Was flooded with such golden light As never since the world was born Had come to dazzle human sight. Then every child, the legends say, Knew that the time was at an end. Knew that the stone was rolled away. And flew to meet the risen Friend . And long before the Magdalene Had reached the empty sepulchre. Or Peter heard what she had seen. Or fleet John hastened after her, [92] POEMS OF APPRECIATION The children had gone forth and found The Master in the garden walk, And scattered lillies on the ground, And seen His smile, and heard Him talk. No child was puny, halt or lame, Or hungr}^, or in tatters clad. But clothed as if in light they came. And all were whole, and strong, and glad. They throng along the Kedron rill. They thread the city through the gates Straight up to Joseph's garden hill, Where He that loves the children waits. They sing, they dance, they climb the trees. They circle round in ring and file ; They know they cannot fail to please. And win the guerdon of His smile. He lifts His hand : ' ^ I bore the pain Of death for men by sin defiled, I rise henceforth to live and reign Lord of the kingdom of the Child." They vanish, and He stands alone ; And when the women come to weep, The garden flames with flowers new-blown-- The children are at home asleep. [93] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION "What makes that garden spot so bright!'' The learned Rabbis stroked their chins ; The}^ knew not yet that love is light, That knowledge fails where love begins. But somehow still on Easter morn The world is beautiful again, And in each child-like heart is born Some 3'earning of good will to men, Some haunting sense, some happy dream^ Of singing birds, of daffodils, Of olive branches, or the gleam Of dew-shine on the Syrian hills. [94] SONGS SONGS Sweetest, let no cloud of sorrow SWEETEST, let no cloud of sorrow Cast a shadow o'er us; Let no dark foreboding borrow One bright ray from that tomorrow Beckoning before us. Weary waiting, toil and trouble — These shall not confound us. All the hardship is a bubble : AVe can love, and that is double All the world around us. Can it matter, sweetest, whether Days be dull or shining? If our hearts are knit together. Summer time or winter weather Ne'er shall know repining. [97] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Lady, who is richer far LADY who is richer far Than titled heirs or princes are Who hath quaffed a drink divine Rarer than the rarest wine? He to whom your eyes are kind, He to whom you have a mind, Who by your proud election sips The honeyed nectar of your lips. [98] SONGS All through the day I bore the pain ALL through the day I bore the pain or following after thee in vain. All through the night the demons sent me Dream and fancy to torment me. Now the hope I built upon Rises with another sun, And Avhatever the toil or pain I follow after thee ag-ain. - [99] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Mutatis Mutandis WHEN my lady goeth fairly, And her countenance is rarely Lighted by the things that please her, Mien and happy mood according Are themselves the sweet rewarding Of the kindling eye that sees her. But when her course is out of measure. Or some stirring of displeasure Tints her face with hues that never Fell on canvas, or from darkling Troubled brow her eyes are sparkling. She is lovelier than ever. [lOO] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT POEMS OF THE SPIRIT A Prayer O MASTER, let me labor through the day Quietl}^, 3"et with clear, unswerving aim. Teach me indifference to praise or blame, So long as with good conscience I can say I sought to find the straight and narrow way. If suddenly the fires of passion flame About me, let me calm them with that Name Which in my heart I never could betray. And when the light fails, and untroubled sleep Has clothed my senses with its sweet reward, give my spirit then a large increase Of strength for one more day of striving ; keep The gateway of my dreams ; and wake me, Lord, To walk again the manly paths of peace. [103] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION A Far Country BEYOND the cities I have seen, Beyond the wrack and din, There is a wide and fair demesne Where I have never been. Away from desert wastes of greed. Over the peaks of pride, Across the seas of mortal need Its citizens abide. And through the distance though I see How stern must be the fare, My feet are ever fain to be Upon the journey there. In that far land the only school The dwellers all attend Is built upon the Golden Rule, And man to man is friend. No war is there nor war 's distress, But truth and love increase — It is a realm of pleasantness. And all her paths are peace. [104] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT Nil Desperandum OFT when the way I go lies hard and steep Before me, and I cannot see my goal : When those dream-kindled hopes wherewith m}^ soul Lighted the path have failed ; when I could weep To think how slow, unfirm a pace I keep. How weak my faith, how slight my self-control. Or will to speed me forward, though the whole O'er-ripe world-harvest waits ahead to reap ; — Oft in these hours I listen to the voice Of seers and heroes through the ages past. Who knew at length the metes and bounds of fate. And alwa5^s, whatsoe'er their lot or choice. One clear command they give : Or slow or fast, Despair not, trust thyself, and trusting, wait. [105] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Ideal OWHEN I am tossed on the waters of sorrow, Uncertain and sick, without compass or goal, With no light for today, and no hope for to- morrow. And fear is a torture to body and soul ; When fruitless endeavor, or thwarted ambition, The anguish of loving or physical pain Brings sobering thoughts of the rapid transition Of year into year without comfort or gain — It is easy and well from out of that sorrow, infinite Goodness, to cry unto Thee For light for today, and hope for tomorrow. For guidance and faith on a desolate sea. But teach me, Spirit, that harder devotion When skies are serene and the sailing is fair. When the haven lies white on the rim of the ocean. And love is the captain to pilot me there. [io6] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT For if then I remember to honor and love Thee, And own that from Thee every blessing is sent, When the waters of sorrow would gather above me Thy merciful care shall be quick to prevent. [107] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION The Wonder I MARVEL not to see the works of God. The mighty river rolling to the sea, The sunlit mountain crowned eternally AVith crystal snow, the earthquake like a rod Of vengeance, trumpet winds and flowers that nod In beauty, all the heavenly majesty — These from my childhood up have been to me Familiar voices saying, ' ' God is God. ' ' But evermore the wonder grows amain That we, slight creatures, should ourselves com- mand The uses and the beauty of the whole To build a harp, with strings of joy and pain In endless range, whereon the Master's hand May strike the music of a human soul. [io8] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT Watch Night 'np IS mystic midnight, and the bell JL Cleaves the cold air and tolls away The haggard year. Alas ! no spell Can lure him on to meet the day. The new year at the selfsame hour On winged sandals never slack Begins his course. Alas ! no power Can hold his flying footsteps back. Stay not, heart, for time nor tide, Nor count the days that now are done, But spread the wdngs of purpose wide, Coeval with the rising sun. [109] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Valu es IN God's high heaven and in His earth These things I hold of matchless worth Health and a task, the dreams of youth, Beauty and law, and love, and truth. [no] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT Tyrant Beauty MY mind is set on earnest days And nights of quiet sleeping, But beauty over all my ways A tyrant watch is keeping. She haunts me in a lovely face, By pool and stream she stays me. Her form in every cloud I trace, Her starry sky betrays me. Hers is the mantling down of snow, Hers is the solemn warning Of dirges that the north winds blow, And hers the burst of morning. She forges all the human ties That bind me to my neighbor; She wreathes the laurel crown that lies Upon the brow of labor. A golden bird in a budding tree Pours out his heart in singing — [III] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Which tells the more of beauty, he Or the bud where the sap is springing No time or place is left to me By night or day for resting ; Her finger points, and I must be Adventuring and questing. Let this austere dominion cease, beauty, to distress me. Or grant to me a vast increase Of poAver to express thee. [112] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT The Three Marys THAT blessed morn three Marys came To glorify the Easter scene — Martha's sister, Mary dame, And the repentant Magadalene. One by a perfect love was led, One brought a mother's sore distress, One wore upon her lovely head A chastened crown of thankfulness. And these by loyal suffering Were made as one in sweet accord, Through whom the generations bring Increasing homage to their Lord. [113] THE WINGS OP OPPRESSION Companionship I CLOSED the door and turned the key And spread my book upon my knee, But though I pondered well that lore, I ended wanting something more. I called a comrade friend to share M}^ quiet room. His speech was fair, His spirit high, his discourse wide. But I was still unsatisfied. Then in the stillness all alone My soul rose up to claim her own Inviolable right to be, Father, face to face with Thee. [114] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT Home is the Heart MY dwelling place hath ever been A spirit-builded home within, And though at whiles I fare apart, My mistress still is mistress heart. Sometimes the brazen horn success Drowns all her tones of tenderness, And then I goad my will and dream To win the things that men esteem. Sometimes the meaning and the end Of living seems to be a friend, Whose comprehending kindred mind Is all the boon I crave to find. And often, too, where beauty's sign Appears, I make that standard mine. While pleasure lifts a luring voice To rob my will of other choice. Then honor calls ; the give and take Of combat stirs my soul awake, [IIS] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Where men through troubled ages long Clash in the lists of right and wrong. But what success can be complete? What perfect friends did ever meet In fellowship so well inspired But something more was still desired ? And beauty wanes, and pleasure palls, And all the pride of honor falls When carnal strife has claimed her toll Of ravished limb and tarnished soul. With clearer vision then I see Content in these can never be, And all the folly is disclosed Of trust in outward things reposed. And with that lesson I return To where the lamps of loving burn — Turn home again — and now aright I walk by an unfailing light. [ii6] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT Compensation IF only in thine heart there be Some depth of earnest gratitude For life's great bounties unto thee, Though pain will come and fears intrude, Thou canst not wholly miss the crown Of those by heaven accounted blessed : Patience will bring a healing down, And peace will give the spirit rest. [117] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Certainty WHAT have I fathomed of life, What of its medley of strife, Sorrow and solace profound? What can we creatures of dust Stand upon, swear by, and trust, What my unshakable ground? This : that though evil be strong. Goodness prevaileth ere long, However betrayed or beset ; That he his own spirit doth smother Who willeth the hurt of another. And this : that God liveth yet. [ii8] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT In the Still Night IN the still night there comes to me The blessed boon of liberty. From all the cares that chafed and choked, The spirit is at last unyoked To seek her heaven, as she ought, On sturdy wings of fearless thought. Then come the dreams which through the day The moil of living shuts away. Then can the soul her fountains fill. While all the universe is still, From streams of quietness that rise Out of the hills of Paradise. And I can tell the day was meant For some design beneficent. For sweet-imagined sounds I hear. And forms of beauty hover near To win me to the perfect trust That life is good, and God is just. And permeates His world whereof The essence and the end is love. [119] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Father Love NOT unto him does heaven grant to bend By day and night above the creamy cheek And dimpled smile of baby. 'Tis the meek, Sweet privilege of mother to attend The cradle shrine. There patience without end Wins her a beauty words can never speak. Her troubled joy has nothing more to seek Where life and love in one devotion blend. For him the roughened world, all day for him The tyrant task, the tension of the mind. But toil were vain as any froth or foam. Were not that hour to come when twilight dim Brings weariness, and father turns to find Rest with the blessed angels of his home. [I20] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT Divine Affinity 'ry^WERE vain, God, in me to tell I Thy potency divine : Omniscience surely knoweth well How much of me is thine. As is the steel to the magnet bar, As to the rose the bee, The earth to its compelling star , So am I, God, to Thee. [121] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION Learning to Walk OUR little cherub learned today To stand alone and make her way. With faltering will and timid feet From mother's knee to father's seat. With many a failure, many a pause, Now by rebuke, now by applause, With tears and oft-recurring doubt, She toiled her little journey out. And ever as her faith declined, She strove anew, for there behind Was mother's sweetly crooned command. And on ahead her father's hand. And 0, at last when she survived Her tiny perils and arrived, What depths of feeling unexpressed Were stirred within each guardian breast! We older children of the earth Have journeyed farther from our birth, - [122] POEMS OF THE SPIRIT But doubt and pain and dark delay Attend the journey all the way. And all our balm for heart or mind Is merely this, that we shall find, Before we come to utter harm, The refuge of a Father's arm. [123] THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION The Teacher LORD, who am I to teach the way To little children day by day, So prone myself to go astray ? I teach them knowledge, but I know How faint they flicker and how low The candles of my knowledge glow. I teach them power to will and do, But only now to learn anew My own great weakness through and through. I teach them love for all mankind And all God's ceatures, but I find My love comes lagging far behind. Lord, if their guide I still must be. Oh let the little children see The teacher leaning^ hard on Thee. [124]