S 3503 J5973 \ •py 1 €m ^oemsJ EntI) etm Purbtclt nfp. n a ^ b' ^''.^<(^ -^ ^^' kk \ o,\ % To My Mother Copyright, 1918, by Ruth E. Burdick. ©CLA508406 >v^0 A I^ebelatton. I saw a crimson morn arise To garb in gold the shades of night. I studied well the earth and skies, To find the way of this delight. It thrilled my soul with ecstasy, It glorified the path I trod; But tho I sought, I found it not — It was of God. I saw a ploughman in the field. How hardy was his task! How slow! But in his dull life lay a realm Of sweet content I did not know. He gladdened his small world with song, As he o'er-turned the vernal sod. I sought that peace, but found it not — It was of God. I saw a lover woo his maid Within a bower of blossoms rare. Their rose-hued world was heaven indeed; How perfect was that love! How fair! It brightened all my day to see The dainty path wee Cupid trod. I sought that heaven, but found it not — It was of God. I saw the pathway of despair — A soul in agonies of hell — A grief that shattered life to bits- Such torment that a man would sell His life, his love, his all in all For lifeless rest iDeneath the sod. I sought the wherefore. 'Twas withheld — It was of God. The morning passed. The noon-tide gleamed. Soon I beheld the setting sun. The gorgeous crimson and the gold Were telling that the day was done. The world was mottled, fair to see, I turned me to the living God, And I found peace. I sought it not — It was of God. ^ ^ons of I.obe. A song in my heart Jike the nightingale; A gladness that thrilled than the glory of dawn; A comfort that lulled me to rest and dreams; An hush as still as an evensong. You came to me, love. Can I e'er forget? Dare the world dim my eyes that I cannot see? O, God-given sunrise of laughter and tears And anguish! But may I never be free! May I never, never be free! iligfjt ^ong. Night and the stars! And I alone with God. Lo, the gay world is lulled — is crooned to rest. Silence and peace! The weary path I trod Ends for a day. I give to God my best. Night and the dew! And gladness everywhere. A fairy fragrance fills the atmosphere. What is so pure Or holy or so fair? What in the heaven or in the earth so dear? Night and the stars! You are so dear to me; I love your every breath in summer-time. Give me your peace, But give me not your tears. Breathe in my soul. O night, thou art divine! ^ia §ou €tier ^top to Cijink? Did you ever stop to think What a bleak world this would be, If there never bloomed a pink? If there never hummed a bee? If no roses ever grew? If no robins ever sung? Just a weary me and you, And the day's work never done? Did you ever stop to think What a sad world this would be If there were no love to spare For a weary you and me? If no smile-winds ever blew? If no love-songs e'er were sung? Just a weary me and you. And the day's work never done? Well, just stop to think awhile Of these wonders that we share. Stop to think, and you will smile! And you'll have some love to spare. This old world is full of song, And some garden flowers are free! Here and there bright smile-winds blow For a weary you and me. uppltcatton. O, hear my voice! The night draws nigh Storm-clouds have gathered in the sky. Lord, give me guidance — I am weak. It is your loving hand I seek. I am alone, my tears fall fast; My way is doubly overcast. I cannot catch one glimpse of sun. For it has set; the day is done. Yet, in the night a star I see: Surely its radiance beams for me. Help me by starlight, Lord, to run Until this weary path is done. O, I am sure there's break of day A little farther down the way! What is my life but setting sun And breaking dawn? Yes, one by one. A sigh, a tear, a cheery smile! Were life not varied — not worth while. I am so happy thru my tears! I am so happy tho my years Are sprinkled some with pain and woe. I live and love to live! Oh, no, Not always tears or drops of rain! The sunshine ever comes again. (Author of "The RuMiyat.") Oh, Omar Khayyam, thou art dead To all the world! Asleep! And yet thou livest in the hearts Of many — those that weep. Fearful thine inane, wretched cry! Oh, were it dead as thou! But oh, the echo lingers still. And strength is added now. Drunken thy leer! Thy reeling sense Was wilder than the night. Thine intellect, once calm, intense. Long sought — but sought to blight. And thou art buried in remorse, That thou wert not our God. Oh, Omar Khayyam, hide thy face — "lis best beneath the sod! Thou wept'st not for a world at large, But for thy selfish gain. 'Twas havoc to thy godless heart That thou must have of pain. Thru selfishness thine eye was dimmed. 'Twas sullen to thy soul, That happiness could come to thee If thou wouldst pay the toll. Fie! wretched Omar Khayyam! Cease, man devised of wrath! That thou shouldst spurn the living God, Or long to mend the path 8 Of holiness thru bloody fight — Of purity thru fire! Oh, soul-sick Omar Khayyam, Restrain thy loathe desire. Thou art asleep, oh, Khayyam! Thou wert asleep in wine. Repulsive is the lifeless dust That did thy soul confine. For thou wert Death in Life. Thy creed Was shallow — breathed of Hell. But oh, were thy words dead with thee. Or could I break the spell! ^mile! Begin in the morning and smile all day! Just smile and keep smiling. Watch time flit away! Don't sigh and don't worry! Don't get in a hurry! Just smile! 3 Hofae l^ou ^0. I love you so! *Tis bitter pain to know That you will never care for me. But God's dear will come first, and show The path of duty. For I cannot see It is not meet to love thee. Sunshine of gold upon your hair, And song of bird upon your lip — Can God forbid that I should share The nectar of your love to sip? Can He forbid that we should kiss — That love-light in your eyes might shine? Yes, Dearest, God forbids. But this Hold I to be more than sublime — God held you there before me fair and sweet That I might learn to love you — learn to meet The suffering that makes us stronger men. Thru long Eternity Fll love you. Then I thank Thee, God. I love you — love you so! jetifillt. Peace! Over all the earth there comes sweet rest! Silence — I love it so! — the night caressed. Stars — and the shimmer of a crescent moon. Shadows and fireflies. A world in tune. 10 iMj> 0XQm, Thou art to me a living soul — Gorgeously beautiful, deep and grand, Wondrously manifold; powerful — Yet in control of a tiny hand. Thou art a gift from Eternity — Surely thy music cannot die. Thou art a message sent from God: Listen, mine ear, for that inner cry. Souls of the beautiful, passed away — Souls of the martyrs, burned or crushed — Tears of the widow, the fatherless child — All speak thru thee, O sacred trust! Perfect, thy peace or sheer display; Perfect, thy glory or fading sun; Perfect, thy song of love or praise; Perfect, thy "Rest" when the day is done. Tender, thy call to the Father's fold — Sweet to the sheep long gone astray; Winsome thy voice — how strong thy hold! Luring, thy call in the broad of day. Organ, art thou a living soul? Thou art to me an ebb of strife. O, may my love of thee, past control. Lead me to God — to eternal life. 11 Jf lee as! a Pirb, Flee as a bird? Ah me, from whom? Where could I rest my weary foot? High on the mountain could I assume A loftier title? — a fairy lute? Far on the wide blue ocean of time Could I rest nor falter, then soar away Over the clouds to the height sublime Of angels, arch-angels? Is night, there day? Flee as a bird? Ah, me! 'Tis well For the bird that God gave wings to fly. But for me — I go where He leadeth me, I follow nor ask Him the reason why. Flee as a bird from His tender care? Why, when my path is shadow and sun? Were I a king, I should burdens bear. Worrying more when the day is done. Flee as a bird? Ah, me! — ah, me! Much would I rather lie down and rest — Sleep with God's stars high over me — Wake in the dawning pure and fresh. Whether my task be great or small — Flee from it? Never! God knows best. Flee as a bird? When I hear Him call! Then shall I rest — shall I rest. 12