In Wilson we beheld and proudly hailedThe World's Deliverer. In him, we sawA luminous being rise from earth and drawAll lands above the clouds. We were regaledWith justice cascades flow, long ice impaledUpon high mountains. Was not Nature's thawFrom his heart heat for truth, Eternal Law?His was the heat of all the stars, he scaled.Though his ascension was like Christ's, sublimeWith lift of continents and every isle,He, less than Christ, succumbed to Demon Guile.Oh, God, that he should drop his mountain climbBelow sea-level, and let earth the while,Fall back and settle in Primeval Slime!
In Wilson we beheld and proudly hailedThe World's Deliverer. In him, we sawA luminous being rise from earth and drawAll lands above the clouds. We were regaledWith justice cascades flow, long ice impaledUpon high mountains. Was not Nature's thawFrom his heart heat for truth, Eternal Law?His was the heat of all the stars, he scaled.
In Wilson we beheld and proudly hailed
The World's Deliverer. In him, we saw
A luminous being rise from earth and draw
All lands above the clouds. We were regaled
With justice cascades flow, long ice impaled
Upon high mountains. Was not Nature's thaw
From his heart heat for truth, Eternal Law?
His was the heat of all the stars, he scaled.
Though his ascension was like Christ's, sublimeWith lift of continents and every isle,He, less than Christ, succumbed to Demon Guile.Oh, God, that he should drop his mountain climbBelow sea-level, and let earth the while,Fall back and settle in Primeval Slime!
Though his ascension was like Christ's, sublime
With lift of continents and every isle,
He, less than Christ, succumbed to Demon Guile.
Oh, God, that he should drop his mountain climb
Below sea-level, and let earth the while,
Fall back and settle in Primeval Slime!
Judging from Wilson's virile virtue-voice,Whose whisper hushed Earth's Hum, were we not proudTo have him cross the sea to speak aloudAnd, with a finger raised, hush battle noise,And lift all lands to Justice's equipoise?Oh, such his truth to God,—so oft avowed,—A spirit thund'red from a luminous cloud:"This man crowns Lincoln's work. All Men! Rejoice."Oh, had he read his bible where St. Paul,Grown man, put off child things—or, had not smiled,When told, strong Ego oft, is man grown child!Look! Who sees not an Epoch's Angel FallFrom hope for earth, in Wilson's truth, beguiledBy second childhood's toys to play with thrall?
Judging from Wilson's virile virtue-voice,Whose whisper hushed Earth's Hum, were we not proudTo have him cross the sea to speak aloudAnd, with a finger raised, hush battle noise,And lift all lands to Justice's equipoise?Oh, such his truth to God,—so oft avowed,—A spirit thund'red from a luminous cloud:"This man crowns Lincoln's work. All Men! Rejoice."
Judging from Wilson's virile virtue-voice,
Whose whisper hushed Earth's Hum, were we not proud
To have him cross the sea to speak aloud
And, with a finger raised, hush battle noise,
And lift all lands to Justice's equipoise?
Oh, such his truth to God,—so oft avowed,—
A spirit thund'red from a luminous cloud:
"This man crowns Lincoln's work. All Men! Rejoice."
Oh, had he read his bible where St. Paul,Grown man, put off child things—or, had not smiled,When told, strong Ego oft, is man grown child!Look! Who sees not an Epoch's Angel FallFrom hope for earth, in Wilson's truth, beguiledBy second childhood's toys to play with thrall?
Oh, had he read his bible where St. Paul,
Grown man, put off child things—or, had not smiled,
When told, strong Ego oft, is man grown child!
Look! Who sees not an Epoch's Angel Fall
From hope for earth, in Wilson's truth, beguiled
By second childhood's toys to play with thrall?
Our Country still is in the womb, dark Time.It shows life by its brisk and robust turns,Which thrill the Mother, Liberty, who yearnsTo see her man-child born. Oh, how sublimeWith genius, not of one, but every climbWhere art forms beauty, or the spirit spurnsThe foul and spurious,—her desire, that burnsPrenatally in him, to form him prime!Oh People, all—Italian, Spanish, French,Dutch, English, Irish, German, Jew, and Greek—What see you, as you climb the Future's Peak?Oh! no illusion. What looms there, shall wrenchFrom life, all monsters out from Hell, to seekDead consciences and plague earth with their stench.
Our Country still is in the womb, dark Time.It shows life by its brisk and robust turns,Which thrill the Mother, Liberty, who yearnsTo see her man-child born. Oh, how sublimeWith genius, not of one, but every climbWhere art forms beauty, or the spirit spurnsThe foul and spurious,—her desire, that burnsPrenatally in him, to form him prime!
Our Country still is in the womb, dark Time.
It shows life by its brisk and robust turns,
Which thrill the Mother, Liberty, who yearns
To see her man-child born. Oh, how sublime
With genius, not of one, but every climb
Where art forms beauty, or the spirit spurns
The foul and spurious,—her desire, that burns
Prenatally in him, to form him prime!
Oh People, all—Italian, Spanish, French,Dutch, English, Irish, German, Jew, and Greek—What see you, as you climb the Future's Peak?Oh! no illusion. What looms there, shall wrenchFrom life, all monsters out from Hell, to seekDead consciences and plague earth with their stench.
Oh People, all—Italian, Spanish, French,
Dutch, English, Irish, German, Jew, and Greek—
What see you, as you climb the Future's Peak?
Oh! no illusion. What looms there, shall wrench
From life, all monsters out from Hell, to seek
Dead consciences and plague earth with their stench.
Ascend, O Land of every Creed and Race!Not thy full image, in New England's brook,Nor in the South's lagoon; though there, a lookDelights us with thy chubby, infant face.'Tis seas of joy, that shorelessly replaceThe Ocean which, in time of old, forsookThe prairies for the cloud, or spring in nook,—That show thee, Grown, through God's abundant grace.From East to West, how joy's high seas expand,Reflecting, not a foolish, mundane prideThat, thinking it does all, sets God aside—But Virtue which, with heart and head and hand,Works out God's purpose, with dear Christ for guide,And holy spirits Light to understand!
Ascend, O Land of every Creed and Race!Not thy full image, in New England's brook,Nor in the South's lagoon; though there, a lookDelights us with thy chubby, infant face.'Tis seas of joy, that shorelessly replaceThe Ocean which, in time of old, forsookThe prairies for the cloud, or spring in nook,—That show thee, Grown, through God's abundant grace.
Ascend, O Land of every Creed and Race!
Not thy full image, in New England's brook,
Nor in the South's lagoon; though there, a look
Delights us with thy chubby, infant face.
'Tis seas of joy, that shorelessly replace
The Ocean which, in time of old, forsook
The prairies for the cloud, or spring in nook,—
That show thee, Grown, through God's abundant grace.
From East to West, how joy's high seas expand,Reflecting, not a foolish, mundane prideThat, thinking it does all, sets God aside—But Virtue which, with heart and head and hand,Works out God's purpose, with dear Christ for guide,And holy spirits Light to understand!
From East to West, how joy's high seas expand,
Reflecting, not a foolish, mundane pride
That, thinking it does all, sets God aside—
But Virtue which, with heart and head and hand,
Works out God's purpose, with dear Christ for guide,
And holy spirits Light to understand!
All Virtues from the longing of the soul;From wisdom, gained by sorrow through long ages;From inspiration of the bards, in ragesThat inter-marrying maniacs controlA people's life, and drain its sea to shoal,And from the vision of sky-topping sages,Gasping for breath from rot in all its stages,—Aye, these and new-born Genius loom there Whole.Look, People! Little less than God's own size,Your virtues merge and, with speed God-ward, burn,An unconsuming sun, that at no turnIn spiral flight, for still a grander rise,Lets night advance where human Rights still yearn,Except with great, new stars and dawning skys!
All Virtues from the longing of the soul;From wisdom, gained by sorrow through long ages;From inspiration of the bards, in ragesThat inter-marrying maniacs controlA people's life, and drain its sea to shoal,And from the vision of sky-topping sages,Gasping for breath from rot in all its stages,—Aye, these and new-born Genius loom there Whole.
All Virtues from the longing of the soul;
From wisdom, gained by sorrow through long ages;
From inspiration of the bards, in rages
That inter-marrying maniacs control
A people's life, and drain its sea to shoal,
And from the vision of sky-topping sages,
Gasping for breath from rot in all its stages,—
Aye, these and new-born Genius loom there Whole.
Look, People! Little less than God's own size,Your virtues merge and, with speed God-ward, burn,An unconsuming sun, that at no turnIn spiral flight, for still a grander rise,Lets night advance where human Rights still yearn,Except with great, new stars and dawning skys!
Look, People! Little less than God's own size,
Your virtues merge and, with speed God-ward, burn,
An unconsuming sun, that at no turn
In spiral flight, for still a grander rise,
Lets night advance where human Rights still yearn,
Except with great, new stars and dawning skys!
Behold two fleets, the one with woe for trail,The other, rapture. As they sight the strait,Through which but one can pass, Greed, urged by Hate,Drives Thraldom's crafts with help of steam and gale.They feel their way. The guns, with which they hale,Raise jets, that look tall elms from Hope, the gate,To Peace, the Palace; then, their speed is great,Manoeuvering fast to head off, or assail.Drawing the sea up for his driving steam,Greed breaks all mirrors in his grand state room,That show him dark inevitable doom,Close hovering, and exults: "I am Supreme.When seas lack water for my funnel fume,I bid life send its every crimson stream."
Behold two fleets, the one with woe for trail,The other, rapture. As they sight the strait,Through which but one can pass, Greed, urged by Hate,Drives Thraldom's crafts with help of steam and gale.They feel their way. The guns, with which they hale,Raise jets, that look tall elms from Hope, the gate,To Peace, the Palace; then, their speed is great,Manoeuvering fast to head off, or assail.
Behold two fleets, the one with woe for trail,
The other, rapture. As they sight the strait,
Through which but one can pass, Greed, urged by Hate,
Drives Thraldom's crafts with help of steam and gale.
They feel their way. The guns, with which they hale,
Raise jets, that look tall elms from Hope, the gate,
To Peace, the Palace; then, their speed is great,
Manoeuvering fast to head off, or assail.
Drawing the sea up for his driving steam,Greed breaks all mirrors in his grand state room,That show him dark inevitable doom,Close hovering, and exults: "I am Supreme.When seas lack water for my funnel fume,I bid life send its every crimson stream."
Drawing the sea up for his driving steam,
Greed breaks all mirrors in his grand state room,
That show him dark inevitable doom,
Close hovering, and exults: "I am Supreme.
When seas lack water for my funnel fume,
I bid life send its every crimson stream."
What! in the darkness lowers boat after boatFrom Freedom's fleet, and each with lightening oars?Treasons to God and country are the rowers.They are the Gold and Hireling Brain, that gloatOn conscience body with face down, afloat.Why hail they Greed, to run on menial choresFrom deck to deck, or to and from all shores?Why? To ensure the payment of a note.Meanwhile, brisk Freedom's fleets with justice manned,And cosmic full momentum for their speed,Confront the crafts, fired up by fiendish Greed.A clash and—lo! they pass the strait and land,Leaving in smoldering heaps, like autumn's weed,The hulks of thrall along time's vultured strand.
What! in the darkness lowers boat after boatFrom Freedom's fleet, and each with lightening oars?Treasons to God and country are the rowers.They are the Gold and Hireling Brain, that gloatOn conscience body with face down, afloat.Why hail they Greed, to run on menial choresFrom deck to deck, or to and from all shores?Why? To ensure the payment of a note.
What! in the darkness lowers boat after boat
From Freedom's fleet, and each with lightening oars?
Treasons to God and country are the rowers.
They are the Gold and Hireling Brain, that gloat
On conscience body with face down, afloat.
Why hail they Greed, to run on menial chores
From deck to deck, or to and from all shores?
Why? To ensure the payment of a note.
Meanwhile, brisk Freedom's fleets with justice manned,And cosmic full momentum for their speed,Confront the crafts, fired up by fiendish Greed.A clash and—lo! they pass the strait and land,Leaving in smoldering heaps, like autumn's weed,The hulks of thrall along time's vultured strand.
Meanwhile, brisk Freedom's fleets with justice manned,
And cosmic full momentum for their speed,
Confront the crafts, fired up by fiendish Greed.
A clash and—lo! they pass the strait and land,
Leaving in smoldering heaps, like autumn's weed,
The hulks of thrall along time's vultured strand.
Are lust for Gold and Power not hideous spawnOf prehistoric reptiles, that had wings?Where e'er those crawled, they chawed all greening thingsAnd, when they mounted, how their lengths, full drawn,Basked barren in the sun before the dawn,Absorbing all its rays from budding Springs?These drain life's dawn and by impoverishings,Draw and reduce to pulp, frail Consciences.Oh, yea, bewinged with legislative crime,They bask in sunlight e'er the east sky greys,And drag the soul of man from God's embraceOf rights and freedom. Oh, how long a timeShall reptiles, deadly to the Human race,Be let grow wings and heavenward trail their slime?
Are lust for Gold and Power not hideous spawnOf prehistoric reptiles, that had wings?Where e'er those crawled, they chawed all greening thingsAnd, when they mounted, how their lengths, full drawn,Basked barren in the sun before the dawn,Absorbing all its rays from budding Springs?These drain life's dawn and by impoverishings,Draw and reduce to pulp, frail Consciences.
Are lust for Gold and Power not hideous spawn
Of prehistoric reptiles, that had wings?
Where e'er those crawled, they chawed all greening things
And, when they mounted, how their lengths, full drawn,
Basked barren in the sun before the dawn,
Absorbing all its rays from budding Springs?
These drain life's dawn and by impoverishings,
Draw and reduce to pulp, frail Consciences.
Oh, yea, bewinged with legislative crime,They bask in sunlight e'er the east sky greys,And drag the soul of man from God's embraceOf rights and freedom. Oh, how long a timeShall reptiles, deadly to the Human race,Be let grow wings and heavenward trail their slime?
Oh, yea, bewinged with legislative crime,
They bask in sunlight e'er the east sky greys,
And drag the soul of man from God's embrace
Of rights and freedom. Oh, how long a time
Shall reptiles, deadly to the Human race,
Be let grow wings and heavenward trail their slime?
The outlaws in our country are the wretches,Who wreck the legislatures with their gold,And with the ruins, form a high strongholdTo sally from, to what good nature fetchesFrom God to man. What though fine graphic sketchesIn magazines show them with shoulders boldAgainst the nights flood-gates of dark and cold?All effort is but life in death-throw stretches.They are the outlaws, who stop Nature's trainAnd take its corn and coal for selfish use;Then, put their shoulders to Night's gate, to looseIts hinges for a forty-day dark rain,To drown all life, that they, like Noah, may cruiseThrough thick drifts of the dead in heart and brain.
The outlaws in our country are the wretches,Who wreck the legislatures with their gold,And with the ruins, form a high strongholdTo sally from, to what good nature fetchesFrom God to man. What though fine graphic sketchesIn magazines show them with shoulders boldAgainst the nights flood-gates of dark and cold?All effort is but life in death-throw stretches.
The outlaws in our country are the wretches,
Who wreck the legislatures with their gold,
And with the ruins, form a high stronghold
To sally from, to what good nature fetches
From God to man. What though fine graphic sketches
In magazines show them with shoulders bold
Against the nights flood-gates of dark and cold?
All effort is but life in death-throw stretches.
They are the outlaws, who stop Nature's trainAnd take its corn and coal for selfish use;Then, put their shoulders to Night's gate, to looseIts hinges for a forty-day dark rain,To drown all life, that they, like Noah, may cruiseThrough thick drifts of the dead in heart and brain.
They are the outlaws, who stop Nature's train
And take its corn and coal for selfish use;
Then, put their shoulders to Night's gate, to loose
Its hinges for a forty-day dark rain,
To drown all life, that they, like Noah, may cruise
Through thick drifts of the dead in heart and brain.
O heart and brain, who see the father loadHis train with food, not for the few, but all,And hear train-whistlings in March winds, jay callAnd ground-hog sniffs! Haste out, for from the roadThat leads to every Industry's abode,The trust that, bat-eyed, comes out at night-fall,Now moves the tracks inside his private wall,Claiming all trains from God a debt long owed.O heart and brain, it rest with you, how longThe legislative wreckers shall prevail.Ye have the power to balk them. Why then, fail?Regain your legislatures. Man them strongAnd drive thence all sleek hounds, trust-trained to trailSafe outlaws' paths to fastnesses of wrong.
O heart and brain, who see the father loadHis train with food, not for the few, but all,And hear train-whistlings in March winds, jay callAnd ground-hog sniffs! Haste out, for from the roadThat leads to every Industry's abode,The trust that, bat-eyed, comes out at night-fall,Now moves the tracks inside his private wall,Claiming all trains from God a debt long owed.
O heart and brain, who see the father load
His train with food, not for the few, but all,
And hear train-whistlings in March winds, jay call
And ground-hog sniffs! Haste out, for from the road
That leads to every Industry's abode,
The trust that, bat-eyed, comes out at night-fall,
Now moves the tracks inside his private wall,
Claiming all trains from God a debt long owed.
O heart and brain, it rest with you, how longThe legislative wreckers shall prevail.Ye have the power to balk them. Why then, fail?Regain your legislatures. Man them strongAnd drive thence all sleek hounds, trust-trained to trailSafe outlaws' paths to fastnesses of wrong.
O heart and brain, it rest with you, how long
The legislative wreckers shall prevail.
Ye have the power to balk them. Why then, fail?
Regain your legislatures. Man them strong
And drive thence all sleek hounds, trust-trained to trail
Safe outlaws' paths to fastnesses of wrong.
Was ever such unblushing harlotry,Such sale of virtue in the Market place,As by the Press? The red paint on her faceIs Degradation's mark. Alas, that she,Born to bring forth the truth, still, is so base,She kills her child and, then, to hide all trace,Cracks bone by bone to dust, too fine to see.O Press, poor harlot of the tyrant, Gold,What freedom, but from truth, hast thou to boast?Hark, who now speaks is murdered Truth's pale ghost:"Conceiving life—oh, bring it forth! aye, holdThy child on high with love, as priest, the Host!Crush not its bones, with smile and eyes set cold."
Was ever such unblushing harlotry,Such sale of virtue in the Market place,As by the Press? The red paint on her faceIs Degradation's mark. Alas, that she,Born to bring forth the truth, still, is so base,She kills her child and, then, to hide all trace,Cracks bone by bone to dust, too fine to see.
Was ever such unblushing harlotry,
Such sale of virtue in the Market place,
As by the Press? The red paint on her face
Is Degradation's mark. Alas, that she,
Born to bring forth the truth, still, is so base,
She kills her child and, then, to hide all trace,
Cracks bone by bone to dust, too fine to see.
O Press, poor harlot of the tyrant, Gold,What freedom, but from truth, hast thou to boast?Hark, who now speaks is murdered Truth's pale ghost:"Conceiving life—oh, bring it forth! aye, holdThy child on high with love, as priest, the Host!Crush not its bones, with smile and eyes set cold."
O Press, poor harlot of the tyrant, Gold,
What freedom, but from truth, hast thou to boast?
Hark, who now speaks is murdered Truth's pale ghost:
"Conceiving life—oh, bring it forth! aye, hold
Thy child on high with love, as priest, the Host!
Crush not its bones, with smile and eyes set cold."
What is the truth? The focus of all raysPassing through Nature and the soul and mind.It is the Sun of Suns, around which windThe Heavens and all the worlds. Such is its blaze,That had it not, at intervals, a haze,Grading both Angel and the Human-kind,The bright Arch-angel would be stricken blind,To grope in Heaven, a Homer, sighing lays.What less could fitly crown OmnipotenceThan Truth, the focus of all rays in Good?Lo! there it shines upon the Holy Rood,Breaking through clouds, a-massing dark and denseFrom countless ages, Cains to Brotherhood—With rays of pardon for the World's offense.
What is the truth? The focus of all raysPassing through Nature and the soul and mind.It is the Sun of Suns, around which windThe Heavens and all the worlds. Such is its blaze,That had it not, at intervals, a haze,Grading both Angel and the Human-kind,The bright Arch-angel would be stricken blind,To grope in Heaven, a Homer, sighing lays.
What is the truth? The focus of all rays
Passing through Nature and the soul and mind.
It is the Sun of Suns, around which wind
The Heavens and all the worlds. Such is its blaze,
That had it not, at intervals, a haze,
Grading both Angel and the Human-kind,
The bright Arch-angel would be stricken blind,
To grope in Heaven, a Homer, sighing lays.
What less could fitly crown OmnipotenceThan Truth, the focus of all rays in Good?Lo! there it shines upon the Holy Rood,Breaking through clouds, a-massing dark and denseFrom countless ages, Cains to Brotherhood—With rays of pardon for the World's offense.
What less could fitly crown Omnipotence
Than Truth, the focus of all rays in Good?
Lo! there it shines upon the Holy Rood,
Breaking through clouds, a-massing dark and dense
From countless ages, Cains to Brotherhood—
With rays of pardon for the World's offense.
"Forgive them, Sire! They know not what they do."—Ah, Christ! how at that face to face God-plea,The Demon and his legions, mocking theeWith every generation, brought to view,Flashed with dismay, and, boltless lightening throughThe ages, thunder down Eternity,'Till faint as the sound in shells, far from the sea;For that thy prayer would be vouchsafed, they knew.All grandeurs, gathered as a dazzling crownFor thee, in barter for thy knee's least bend,The Demon dashed to fragments to Time's end.There, born anew in spirit, we look downAnd, in the ocean of thy prayer, Amen'd,See but earth's monsters, with the demons drown.
"Forgive them, Sire! They know not what they do."—Ah, Christ! how at that face to face God-plea,The Demon and his legions, mocking theeWith every generation, brought to view,Flashed with dismay, and, boltless lightening throughThe ages, thunder down Eternity,'Till faint as the sound in shells, far from the sea;For that thy prayer would be vouchsafed, they knew.
"Forgive them, Sire! They know not what they do."—
Ah, Christ! how at that face to face God-plea,
The Demon and his legions, mocking thee
With every generation, brought to view,
Flashed with dismay, and, boltless lightening through
The ages, thunder down Eternity,
'Till faint as the sound in shells, far from the sea;
For that thy prayer would be vouchsafed, they knew.
All grandeurs, gathered as a dazzling crownFor thee, in barter for thy knee's least bend,The Demon dashed to fragments to Time's end.There, born anew in spirit, we look downAnd, in the ocean of thy prayer, Amen'd,See but earth's monsters, with the demons drown.
All grandeurs, gathered as a dazzling crown
For thee, in barter for thy knee's least bend,
The Demon dashed to fragments to Time's end.
There, born anew in spirit, we look down
And, in the ocean of thy prayer, Amen'd,
See but earth's monsters, with the demons drown.
Thought is truth's echo—not her glorious eyesBeholding God, nor her white arms of light,Lifted in worship. Following truth, our flightAt highest range is where our echo dies.Oh all your power and beauty, earth and skys!And, Soul and Mind! your Beauty and your Might—Truth gathers in one flash and, catching sightOf God, lifts high in love's full sacrifice.Twixt Truth and Thought, what Truth is oft is spaceWherein, with intuition for her wing,The soul mounts. It is there I hear her sing:"Lo, Truth, so swift aloft, Thought dies in chase,Turns earthward, and the gifts her white arms bring,Are outshone by God's glory in her face!"
Thought is truth's echo—not her glorious eyesBeholding God, nor her white arms of light,Lifted in worship. Following truth, our flightAt highest range is where our echo dies.Oh all your power and beauty, earth and skys!And, Soul and Mind! your Beauty and your Might—Truth gathers in one flash and, catching sightOf God, lifts high in love's full sacrifice.
Thought is truth's echo—not her glorious eyes
Beholding God, nor her white arms of light,
Lifted in worship. Following truth, our flight
At highest range is where our echo dies.
Oh all your power and beauty, earth and skys!
And, Soul and Mind! your Beauty and your Might—
Truth gathers in one flash and, catching sight
Of God, lifts high in love's full sacrifice.
Twixt Truth and Thought, what Truth is oft is spaceWherein, with intuition for her wing,The soul mounts. It is there I hear her sing:"Lo, Truth, so swift aloft, Thought dies in chase,Turns earthward, and the gifts her white arms bring,Are outshone by God's glory in her face!"
Twixt Truth and Thought, what Truth is oft is space
Wherein, with intuition for her wing,
The soul mounts. It is there I hear her sing:
"Lo, Truth, so swift aloft, Thought dies in chase,
Turns earthward, and the gifts her white arms bring,
Are outshone by God's glory in her face!"
Ah, what is Heaven? Such Glory that Sun-lightSeems darkness, and Mass Music, shell-shut sound.What we call senses here, there so abound,The soul appears a broadening heaven in flight,Feathered and downed with all the stars, whose whiteIs all hues mingled. Oh, the awe profound!For every moment there, new Heavens astoundThe myriad senses, with God's Love and Might.If "Holy, Holy, Holy, Evermore?"Be the one chant of angel and of SaintBefore the Throne, it is their gaspings faintBetween their transports to high Heavens from lower;For, what is love's eternal FirmamentBut Heaven on Heaven, that we may ceaseless soar?
Ah, what is Heaven? Such Glory that Sun-lightSeems darkness, and Mass Music, shell-shut sound.What we call senses here, there so abound,The soul appears a broadening heaven in flight,Feathered and downed with all the stars, whose whiteIs all hues mingled. Oh, the awe profound!For every moment there, new Heavens astoundThe myriad senses, with God's Love and Might.
Ah, what is Heaven? Such Glory that Sun-light
Seems darkness, and Mass Music, shell-shut sound.
What we call senses here, there so abound,
The soul appears a broadening heaven in flight,
Feathered and downed with all the stars, whose white
Is all hues mingled. Oh, the awe profound!
For every moment there, new Heavens astound
The myriad senses, with God's Love and Might.
If "Holy, Holy, Holy, Evermore?"Be the one chant of angel and of SaintBefore the Throne, it is their gaspings faintBetween their transports to high Heavens from lower;For, what is love's eternal FirmamentBut Heaven on Heaven, that we may ceaseless soar?
If "Holy, Holy, Holy, Evermore?"
Be the one chant of angel and of Saint
Before the Throne, it is their gaspings faint
Between their transports to high Heavens from lower;
For, what is love's eternal Firmament
But Heaven on Heaven, that we may ceaseless soar?
Was not humility the Earthward stairFrom highest Heaven, by which God came to men,To show the way aloft to human ken?Ah, by what other pass, are men to fareThrough mist and cloud, except the path, aflareWith his blest steps from Heaven, and up again?Steps, not from star to star, but fen to fen,That all might follow and not one despair!Oh, steps of Love! Could we reach with our eyesTheir fulgence, we would shrink back with dismay;For, though 'tis through the world's contempt move they—Hark! How the hidden choirs of countless skiesChant at all heights: "Lo, God comes by this way,And makes world-wide, His stair to Paradise!"
Was not humility the Earthward stairFrom highest Heaven, by which God came to men,To show the way aloft to human ken?Ah, by what other pass, are men to fareThrough mist and cloud, except the path, aflareWith his blest steps from Heaven, and up again?Steps, not from star to star, but fen to fen,That all might follow and not one despair!
Was not humility the Earthward stair
From highest Heaven, by which God came to men,
To show the way aloft to human ken?
Ah, by what other pass, are men to fare
Through mist and cloud, except the path, aflare
With his blest steps from Heaven, and up again?
Steps, not from star to star, but fen to fen,
That all might follow and not one despair!
Oh, steps of Love! Could we reach with our eyesTheir fulgence, we would shrink back with dismay;For, though 'tis through the world's contempt move they—Hark! How the hidden choirs of countless skiesChant at all heights: "Lo, God comes by this way,And makes world-wide, His stair to Paradise!"
Oh, steps of Love! Could we reach with our eyes
Their fulgence, we would shrink back with dismay;
For, though 'tis through the world's contempt move they—
Hark! How the hidden choirs of countless skies
Chant at all heights: "Lo, God comes by this way,
And makes world-wide, His stair to Paradise!"
A cataract of stars, which, with each fallBroadens and brightens, rapturing the sightOf angel hosts, that view it from the heightOf knowledge of God's love for one and allHis creatures—and not darkness to appalThe spirit by the quench of every light,For which God grants it vision—is the nightOf Life's strange mysteries, both great and small.Oh cataracts, beyond the angels' count,Pause and shine pendant over every deepOf heart, mind, spirit! Lo! how down they sweepTo basic Good where, massing, they remount,Till, mid God's "Many Mansions," high they leap,Forming forever, joy's most splendent fount!
A cataract of stars, which, with each fallBroadens and brightens, rapturing the sightOf angel hosts, that view it from the heightOf knowledge of God's love for one and allHis creatures—and not darkness to appalThe spirit by the quench of every light,For which God grants it vision—is the nightOf Life's strange mysteries, both great and small.
A cataract of stars, which, with each fall
Broadens and brightens, rapturing the sight
Of angel hosts, that view it from the height
Of knowledge of God's love for one and all
His creatures—and not darkness to appal
The spirit by the quench of every light,
For which God grants it vision—is the night
Of Life's strange mysteries, both great and small.
Oh cataracts, beyond the angels' count,Pause and shine pendant over every deepOf heart, mind, spirit! Lo! how down they sweepTo basic Good where, massing, they remount,Till, mid God's "Many Mansions," high they leap,Forming forever, joy's most splendent fount!
Oh cataracts, beyond the angels' count,
Pause and shine pendant over every deep
Of heart, mind, spirit! Lo! how down they sweep
To basic Good where, massing, they remount,
Till, mid God's "Many Mansions," high they leap,
Forming forever, joy's most splendent fount!
When, at God's fiat, Light flashed forth, the beamEvolved a million pigments, as it spedTo every nature. Now, of all its spread,What shaft so glorious as the poet's dreamWhich, mote and mass, reflects the Will SupremeThat life is progress, and by flight, or tread,It circles God-ward up, till perfected!For, harboring meaner thought were to blaspheme.What, if the world be chaos where it sins,Race feuds, Creed hatreds, falsehoods gross, deceit,Intrigue and greed, form swirling, blinding sleet?Honor and Truth, though buried to their chins,Look up and smile; for, though the storms still beat,The poets show 'tis Spring, not Winter, wins.
When, at God's fiat, Light flashed forth, the beamEvolved a million pigments, as it spedTo every nature. Now, of all its spread,What shaft so glorious as the poet's dreamWhich, mote and mass, reflects the Will SupremeThat life is progress, and by flight, or tread,It circles God-ward up, till perfected!For, harboring meaner thought were to blaspheme.
When, at God's fiat, Light flashed forth, the beam
Evolved a million pigments, as it sped
To every nature. Now, of all its spread,
What shaft so glorious as the poet's dream
Which, mote and mass, reflects the Will Supreme
That life is progress, and by flight, or tread,
It circles God-ward up, till perfected!
For, harboring meaner thought were to blaspheme.
What, if the world be chaos where it sins,Race feuds, Creed hatreds, falsehoods gross, deceit,Intrigue and greed, form swirling, blinding sleet?Honor and Truth, though buried to their chins,Look up and smile; for, though the storms still beat,The poets show 'tis Spring, not Winter, wins.
What, if the world be chaos where it sins,
Race feuds, Creed hatreds, falsehoods gross, deceit,
Intrigue and greed, form swirling, blinding sleet?
Honor and Truth, though buried to their chins,
Look up and smile; for, though the storms still beat,
The poets show 'tis Spring, not Winter, wins.
Not mine the night that creeps beneath Life's sea,Or lurks within Hope's ruins, sunk belowThe desert, or the stagnant pool—oh, no!But night that mounts the heavens, till it is freeWhere stars, prefiguring all things that beObscure on earth, catch sight of God and glow,And golden shadows large and larger grow,Cast by Gift-bearers to Humanity.Oh, once the cold of all the unsunn'd spaceWas in my reptile life of soul, wing-bound;But now, soul-free, what warmth from stars all round!'Tis not by strength of mine, Lord, but thy grace,My soul soars from the depths of sea, or ground,Till, at star-heights, it meets Thee, face to face!
Not mine the night that creeps beneath Life's sea,Or lurks within Hope's ruins, sunk belowThe desert, or the stagnant pool—oh, no!But night that mounts the heavens, till it is freeWhere stars, prefiguring all things that beObscure on earth, catch sight of God and glow,And golden shadows large and larger grow,Cast by Gift-bearers to Humanity.
Not mine the night that creeps beneath Life's sea,
Or lurks within Hope's ruins, sunk below
The desert, or the stagnant pool—oh, no!
But night that mounts the heavens, till it is free
Where stars, prefiguring all things that be
Obscure on earth, catch sight of God and glow,
And golden shadows large and larger grow,
Cast by Gift-bearers to Humanity.
Oh, once the cold of all the unsunn'd spaceWas in my reptile life of soul, wing-bound;But now, soul-free, what warmth from stars all round!'Tis not by strength of mine, Lord, but thy grace,My soul soars from the depths of sea, or ground,Till, at star-heights, it meets Thee, face to face!
Oh, once the cold of all the unsunn'd space
Was in my reptile life of soul, wing-bound;
But now, soul-free, what warmth from stars all round!
'Tis not by strength of mine, Lord, but thy grace,
My soul soars from the depths of sea, or ground,
Till, at star-heights, it meets Thee, face to face!
What but the spirit's ladder to God's throneIs beauty? Oh, from rung to rung to climb,Till faint becomes the azure's anthem chimeOf planets, multitudinous, or lone,And Inspiration, drunk with fragrance, blownFrom God's rare, inmost garden, wall'd from Time,Sets free the Sonnet with is wings of rhymeTo carry down the transport, upward known!Mine is no swaying ladder, like he sea's,Whose rounds of rollers, raised above Sun-rise,Lean not on Heaven, hence shattered lie at noon;For 'tis set firmly on the verities,Which form God's throne. Ah, there, what joy, my prize!Would that I had a dove for every boon!
What but the spirit's ladder to God's throneIs beauty? Oh, from rung to rung to climb,Till faint becomes the azure's anthem chimeOf planets, multitudinous, or lone,And Inspiration, drunk with fragrance, blownFrom God's rare, inmost garden, wall'd from Time,Sets free the Sonnet with is wings of rhymeTo carry down the transport, upward known!
What but the spirit's ladder to God's throne
Is beauty? Oh, from rung to rung to climb,
Till faint becomes the azure's anthem chime
Of planets, multitudinous, or lone,
And Inspiration, drunk with fragrance, blown
From God's rare, inmost garden, wall'd from Time,
Sets free the Sonnet with is wings of rhyme
To carry down the transport, upward known!
Mine is no swaying ladder, like he sea's,Whose rounds of rollers, raised above Sun-rise,Lean not on Heaven, hence shattered lie at noon;For 'tis set firmly on the verities,Which form God's throne. Ah, there, what joy, my prize!Would that I had a dove for every boon!
Mine is no swaying ladder, like he sea's,
Whose rounds of rollers, raised above Sun-rise,
Lean not on Heaven, hence shattered lie at noon;
For 'tis set firmly on the verities,
Which form God's throne. Ah, there, what joy, my prize!
Would that I had a dove for every boon!
The Sun is God's great joy to Human sight.Oh, up and off in chariots, Sea! and ride,All generations, up, till mountain-eyed,To welcome earth-ward, God's Supreme delight.Imagination swirls in swallow flight,Giddy with Beauty, deepening—Oh, how glideFrom star to star, to the haloes, season-dyedAnd countless! Its wings shrivel up like night.Oh, yea, the Sun in one subliming riseFrom Wisdom's infinite mind! This Reason knows.It has no set. There, Sense, with weals or woesFor beads, or fingers, count our shuts of eyes,Excluding Knowledge. What! God's joy to closeAnd all its goodness break and drift cloud-wise?
The Sun is God's great joy to Human sight.Oh, up and off in chariots, Sea! and ride,All generations, up, till mountain-eyed,To welcome earth-ward, God's Supreme delight.Imagination swirls in swallow flight,Giddy with Beauty, deepening—Oh, how glideFrom star to star, to the haloes, season-dyedAnd countless! Its wings shrivel up like night.
The Sun is God's great joy to Human sight.
Oh, up and off in chariots, Sea! and ride,
All generations, up, till mountain-eyed,
To welcome earth-ward, God's Supreme delight.
Imagination swirls in swallow flight,
Giddy with Beauty, deepening—Oh, how glide
From star to star, to the haloes, season-dyed
And countless! Its wings shrivel up like night.
Oh, yea, the Sun in one subliming riseFrom Wisdom's infinite mind! This Reason knows.It has no set. There, Sense, with weals or woesFor beads, or fingers, count our shuts of eyes,Excluding Knowledge. What! God's joy to closeAnd all its goodness break and drift cloud-wise?
Oh, yea, the Sun in one subliming rise
From Wisdom's infinite mind! This Reason knows.
It has no set. There, Sense, with weals or woes
For beads, or fingers, count our shuts of eyes,
Excluding Knowledge. What! God's joy to close
And all its goodness break and drift cloud-wise?
There are two darknesses; one where the LordHides beauty—that by which men know His face.All, in that darkness, feel His fingers traceTheir features gently, and their hearts recordThe feeling, as of one, whose eyes, restored,Would see, but for the Father's close embrace.The other is the outer dark—a placeWhere hate turns black the light upon it poured.O God! the only darkness that I dread,Is where Thou art not—that where Hate's black fireSurmounts the heavens, to burst with thunder direAnd, in its fall forever, drag the deadOf heart and spirit—those whom Thy desireWould fain have made the halo round Thy head.
There are two darknesses; one where the LordHides beauty—that by which men know His face.All, in that darkness, feel His fingers traceTheir features gently, and their hearts recordThe feeling, as of one, whose eyes, restored,Would see, but for the Father's close embrace.The other is the outer dark—a placeWhere hate turns black the light upon it poured.
There are two darknesses; one where the Lord
Hides beauty—that by which men know His face.
All, in that darkness, feel His fingers trace
Their features gently, and their hearts record
The feeling, as of one, whose eyes, restored,
Would see, but for the Father's close embrace.
The other is the outer dark—a place
Where hate turns black the light upon it poured.
O God! the only darkness that I dread,Is where Thou art not—that where Hate's black fireSurmounts the heavens, to burst with thunder direAnd, in its fall forever, drag the deadOf heart and spirit—those whom Thy desireWould fain have made the halo round Thy head.
O God! the only darkness that I dread,
Is where Thou art not—that where Hate's black fire
Surmounts the heavens, to burst with thunder dire
And, in its fall forever, drag the dead
Of heart and spirit—those whom Thy desire
Would fain have made the halo round Thy head.
A spirit passed the Sun, the Moon and Star,And dwelled and dreamed in darkness all its own.The music of the spheres, though thither blown,As faint as fragrance from a flower afar,Disturbed this spirit's ear, attuned to jarOf orb with orb; for hate of light, truth known,Fashions hot worlds which, cooled to clay and stone,Clash, rising toward calm Heaven, which they would mar.Ah, if where love was not, he smiled elate,His smile at God returned, a lightening flashThat shattered him. He saw his planets clash,Burst and, then, by the downward law of hate,Sink and leave not a single spark, nor ash,For the new firmament he would create.
A spirit passed the Sun, the Moon and Star,And dwelled and dreamed in darkness all its own.The music of the spheres, though thither blown,As faint as fragrance from a flower afar,Disturbed this spirit's ear, attuned to jarOf orb with orb; for hate of light, truth known,Fashions hot worlds which, cooled to clay and stone,Clash, rising toward calm Heaven, which they would mar.
A spirit passed the Sun, the Moon and Star,
And dwelled and dreamed in darkness all its own.
The music of the spheres, though thither blown,
As faint as fragrance from a flower afar,
Disturbed this spirit's ear, attuned to jar
Of orb with orb; for hate of light, truth known,
Fashions hot worlds which, cooled to clay and stone,
Clash, rising toward calm Heaven, which they would mar.
Ah, if where love was not, he smiled elate,His smile at God returned, a lightening flashThat shattered him. He saw his planets clash,Burst and, then, by the downward law of hate,Sink and leave not a single spark, nor ash,For the new firmament he would create.
Ah, if where love was not, he smiled elate,
His smile at God returned, a lightening flash
That shattered him. He saw his planets clash,
Burst and, then, by the downward law of hate,
Sink and leave not a single spark, nor ash,
For the new firmament he would create.
There are two Gods—one, Good, the other, Ill.They clash in Nature—so the Persian taught,And long a sect in Europe spread the thought.Why there is evil is a problem stillTo many, who see not in Human Will,A being that with beauty could have caughtUp to his Maker, had he gladly wroughtWith light and warmth, instead of dark and chill.God said, "Let there be Light," and light was made.God made not darkness—that is light's exclusion,Forming a region where, in wild confusion,Men, Nations, each a ferret, blood-eyed shade,Worry each other, till, with disillusionFor lamp, comes conscience, crying, "God Betrayed!"
There are two Gods—one, Good, the other, Ill.They clash in Nature—so the Persian taught,And long a sect in Europe spread the thought.Why there is evil is a problem stillTo many, who see not in Human Will,A being that with beauty could have caughtUp to his Maker, had he gladly wroughtWith light and warmth, instead of dark and chill.
There are two Gods—one, Good, the other, Ill.
They clash in Nature—so the Persian taught,
And long a sect in Europe spread the thought.
Why there is evil is a problem still
To many, who see not in Human Will,
A being that with beauty could have caught
Up to his Maker, had he gladly wrought
With light and warmth, instead of dark and chill.
God said, "Let there be Light," and light was made.God made not darkness—that is light's exclusion,Forming a region where, in wild confusion,Men, Nations, each a ferret, blood-eyed shade,Worry each other, till, with disillusionFor lamp, comes conscience, crying, "God Betrayed!"
God said, "Let there be Light," and light was made.
God made not darkness—that is light's exclusion,
Forming a region where, in wild confusion,
Men, Nations, each a ferret, blood-eyed shade,
Worry each other, till, with disillusion
For lamp, comes conscience, crying, "God Betrayed!"
Ah, in the angel-fall from Heaven, is hope?The wing-whir discord of the legion's fallFrom God forever, mocks my heart's loud call.Empty of beauty from its base to cope,The Earth is hollow. Where, then, can I gropeAnd not be met by echoes that appal?What! shouts my mind, in wonder that I crawlAnd, having skyey wings, in hollows mope.Does scent from bloom, or warble from the wood,Not atmosphere the un-aerial voidTwixt thee and beauty, which thy youth enjoyed?Fly back to earth, by memory renewed;She fills the hollow, echoing hosts destroyed,—With Spring, reflecting Heaven's Triumphant Good.
Ah, in the angel-fall from Heaven, is hope?The wing-whir discord of the legion's fallFrom God forever, mocks my heart's loud call.Empty of beauty from its base to cope,The Earth is hollow. Where, then, can I gropeAnd not be met by echoes that appal?What! shouts my mind, in wonder that I crawlAnd, having skyey wings, in hollows mope.
Ah, in the angel-fall from Heaven, is hope?
The wing-whir discord of the legion's fall
From God forever, mocks my heart's loud call.
Empty of beauty from its base to cope,
The Earth is hollow. Where, then, can I grope
And not be met by echoes that appal?
What! shouts my mind, in wonder that I crawl
And, having skyey wings, in hollows mope.
Does scent from bloom, or warble from the wood,Not atmosphere the un-aerial voidTwixt thee and beauty, which thy youth enjoyed?Fly back to earth, by memory renewed;She fills the hollow, echoing hosts destroyed,—With Spring, reflecting Heaven's Triumphant Good.
Does scent from bloom, or warble from the wood,
Not atmosphere the un-aerial void
Twixt thee and beauty, which thy youth enjoyed?
Fly back to earth, by memory renewed;
She fills the hollow, echoing hosts destroyed,—
With Spring, reflecting Heaven's Triumphant Good.
O beauty! in the dimple of thy cheek,My love could live forever and be blest.There, with the sun, a rose-bud on thy breast,How thou rejoicest, hastening to speakTo thy fond Father! Oh, how vain to seekA sweeter refuge for the Spirit's rest,Than mid thy blushes, when thou marvelestAt His great love, for, oh! thy heart is meek.Oh beauty! in thy Father's arms, thou art.Enclose me in thy dimple; for, though thisWere but a bud, or molded seed, what blissTo watch bloom gather scent, or new life start,And hear our Father, bending for a kiss,Whisper to thee, the secrets of His heart!
O beauty! in the dimple of thy cheek,My love could live forever and be blest.There, with the sun, a rose-bud on thy breast,How thou rejoicest, hastening to speakTo thy fond Father! Oh, how vain to seekA sweeter refuge for the Spirit's rest,Than mid thy blushes, when thou marvelestAt His great love, for, oh! thy heart is meek.
O beauty! in the dimple of thy cheek,
My love could live forever and be blest.
There, with the sun, a rose-bud on thy breast,
How thou rejoicest, hastening to speak
To thy fond Father! Oh, how vain to seek
A sweeter refuge for the Spirit's rest,
Than mid thy blushes, when thou marvelest
At His great love, for, oh! thy heart is meek.
Oh beauty! in thy Father's arms, thou art.Enclose me in thy dimple; for, though thisWere but a bud, or molded seed, what blissTo watch bloom gather scent, or new life start,And hear our Father, bending for a kiss,Whisper to thee, the secrets of His heart!
Oh beauty! in thy Father's arms, thou art.
Enclose me in thy dimple; for, though this
Were but a bud, or molded seed, what bliss
To watch bloom gather scent, or new life start,
And hear our Father, bending for a kiss,
Whisper to thee, the secrets of His heart!
Beauty is love and, hence is heightening fire,Consuming Nature. All the dark can bringTo quench it, feeds it. Look! how everythingIs caught in the blaze, which mounts up high and higher!Oh! truly, 'tis a vision to inspireThe soul with transport, more than joy can sing;For, if not for the blaze, what cold would stingPoor mortals, who crowd round it, nigh and nigher!Is beauty not the camp-fire, which one hostLeaves burning for another, close behind?Yea, yea, the Powers Divine, O Human Kind!Have left their camp-fire burning on the coast,Where they embarked from glimpse of Human mind,To give you warmth and light to hold your post.
Beauty is love and, hence is heightening fire,Consuming Nature. All the dark can bringTo quench it, feeds it. Look! how everythingIs caught in the blaze, which mounts up high and higher!Oh! truly, 'tis a vision to inspireThe soul with transport, more than joy can sing;For, if not for the blaze, what cold would stingPoor mortals, who crowd round it, nigh and nigher!
Beauty is love and, hence is heightening fire,
Consuming Nature. All the dark can bring
To quench it, feeds it. Look! how everything
Is caught in the blaze, which mounts up high and higher!
Oh! truly, 'tis a vision to inspire
The soul with transport, more than joy can sing;
For, if not for the blaze, what cold would sting
Poor mortals, who crowd round it, nigh and nigher!
Is beauty not the camp-fire, which one hostLeaves burning for another, close behind?Yea, yea, the Powers Divine, O Human Kind!Have left their camp-fire burning on the coast,Where they embarked from glimpse of Human mind,To give you warmth and light to hold your post.
Is beauty not the camp-fire, which one host
Leaves burning for another, close behind?
Yea, yea, the Powers Divine, O Human Kind!
Have left their camp-fire burning on the coast,
Where they embarked from glimpse of Human mind,
To give you warmth and light to hold your post.
All beings, legioning celestial light,Moved in procession toward a vacant throne.Their chant was faith and hope, as, now, our own.At last, it came to pass, their faith grew sight.They saw One Star in night's down-fall, stay whiteAnd, by the Holy Spirit brighter blown,Ascend in Heaven, till there, as high and lone,As over Nature's marveling zenith height.Reaching the throne, its queen, this star became.Awed by the Triune's Honor as her crown,The legions, circling, soared with eyes cast down;But, when their wonder heard the strange, new nameIn Heaven, from Christ's lips, "Mother," how they shone,Reflecting Christ's child-eyes, with love aflame!
All beings, legioning celestial light,Moved in procession toward a vacant throne.Their chant was faith and hope, as, now, our own.At last, it came to pass, their faith grew sight.They saw One Star in night's down-fall, stay whiteAnd, by the Holy Spirit brighter blown,Ascend in Heaven, till there, as high and lone,As over Nature's marveling zenith height.
All beings, legioning celestial light,
Moved in procession toward a vacant throne.
Their chant was faith and hope, as, now, our own.
At last, it came to pass, their faith grew sight.
They saw One Star in night's down-fall, stay white
And, by the Holy Spirit brighter blown,
Ascend in Heaven, till there, as high and lone,
As over Nature's marveling zenith height.
Reaching the throne, its queen, this star became.Awed by the Triune's Honor as her crown,The legions, circling, soared with eyes cast down;But, when their wonder heard the strange, new nameIn Heaven, from Christ's lips, "Mother," how they shone,Reflecting Christ's child-eyes, with love aflame!
Reaching the throne, its queen, this star became.
Awed by the Triune's Honor as her crown,
The legions, circling, soared with eyes cast down;
But, when their wonder heard the strange, new name
In Heaven, from Christ's lips, "Mother," how they shone,
Reflecting Christ's child-eyes, with love aflame!
Lo! God lets drop blue doves which ground the mindLike clover; then, with drawing to the skies,His pleasure is to watch the flocks arise.Here, there, they mount; they show no cloud, no wind,Can hinder homing; and the angels findNo transport, like the sight, for, to their eyes,'Tis more souls for the joy, which glorifiesThe Father, traced to love by pigeon-kind.Oh, to his love, how great our spirit's worth!Each is as all. In heaven, no heart still heaves.The sun sinks with its last of lingering eves,And, then, if dearest doves of azure birth,Wife, parent, child, be missed, off mercy leavesWith stars for eyes, to search the darks of earth.
Lo! God lets drop blue doves which ground the mindLike clover; then, with drawing to the skies,His pleasure is to watch the flocks arise.Here, there, they mount; they show no cloud, no wind,Can hinder homing; and the angels findNo transport, like the sight, for, to their eyes,'Tis more souls for the joy, which glorifiesThe Father, traced to love by pigeon-kind.
Lo! God lets drop blue doves which ground the mind
Like clover; then, with drawing to the skies,
His pleasure is to watch the flocks arise.
Here, there, they mount; they show no cloud, no wind,
Can hinder homing; and the angels find
No transport, like the sight, for, to their eyes,
'Tis more souls for the joy, which glorifies
The Father, traced to love by pigeon-kind.
Oh, to his love, how great our spirit's worth!Each is as all. In heaven, no heart still heaves.The sun sinks with its last of lingering eves,And, then, if dearest doves of azure birth,Wife, parent, child, be missed, off mercy leavesWith stars for eyes, to search the darks of earth.
Oh, to his love, how great our spirit's worth!
Each is as all. In heaven, no heart still heaves.
The sun sinks with its last of lingering eves,
And, then, if dearest doves of azure birth,
Wife, parent, child, be missed, off mercy leaves
With stars for eyes, to search the darks of earth.
This temple is soul-startling. 'Tis to meA thunder storm in stone, with Sinai flareAcross the Ages. 'Tis the Fiend's despairAnd the Arch-angel's Triumph. It sets freeThe mind and soul with certitude, Christ's keyWhich, like the Sun, opes Heaven—the Good and Fair.Still, oft, what darkness drowns the sun's noon glareWithin the Temple! 'Tis from Calvary.Oh, 'tis from Calvary's grief. 'Tis Christ's emotion,On from the Cross, that from His glory known,The German should have fled and, frantic, thrownAway his soul to Strauss or Kant's vague notion,Unhumaning, till, in the Kaiser, grownA Neitche whirl-wind in a crimson ocean.
This temple is soul-startling. 'Tis to meA thunder storm in stone, with Sinai flareAcross the Ages. 'Tis the Fiend's despairAnd the Arch-angel's Triumph. It sets freeThe mind and soul with certitude, Christ's keyWhich, like the Sun, opes Heaven—the Good and Fair.Still, oft, what darkness drowns the sun's noon glareWithin the Temple! 'Tis from Calvary.
This temple is soul-startling. 'Tis to me
A thunder storm in stone, with Sinai flare
Across the Ages. 'Tis the Fiend's despair
And the Arch-angel's Triumph. It sets free
The mind and soul with certitude, Christ's key
Which, like the Sun, opes Heaven—the Good and Fair.
Still, oft, what darkness drowns the sun's noon glare
Within the Temple! 'Tis from Calvary.
Oh, 'tis from Calvary's grief. 'Tis Christ's emotion,On from the Cross, that from His glory known,The German should have fled and, frantic, thrownAway his soul to Strauss or Kant's vague notion,Unhumaning, till, in the Kaiser, grownA Neitche whirl-wind in a crimson ocean.
Oh, 'tis from Calvary's grief. 'Tis Christ's emotion,
On from the Cross, that from His glory known,
The German should have fled and, frantic, thrown
Away his soul to Strauss or Kant's vague notion,
Unhumaning, till, in the Kaiser, grown
A Neitche whirl-wind in a crimson ocean.
With heart pain and with quiver of the lip,I bid my boy "good bye," with words of cheer.I hug him to my heart to hide a tear,And hold him close so long, that no tongue-slipCould more betray my bodings for his ship,Or troop, when landed. It is when I hearMy daughters' voices, that I shame off fearAnd take my boy's both hands with firmest grip.Go, son, and, though with thy young life 'tis blown,Blare thou the Bugle, rousing man to sweepThe monsters back to Hell's profoundest deep,Where, mocking Spring and Sun-rise, they have grownOn longings for the sea, the world must weepWhen, from its heart, the hope of Peace has flown.
With heart pain and with quiver of the lip,I bid my boy "good bye," with words of cheer.I hug him to my heart to hide a tear,And hold him close so long, that no tongue-slipCould more betray my bodings for his ship,Or troop, when landed. It is when I hearMy daughters' voices, that I shame off fearAnd take my boy's both hands with firmest grip.
With heart pain and with quiver of the lip,
I bid my boy "good bye," with words of cheer.
I hug him to my heart to hide a tear,
And hold him close so long, that no tongue-slip
Could more betray my bodings for his ship,
Or troop, when landed. It is when I hear
My daughters' voices, that I shame off fear
And take my boy's both hands with firmest grip.
Go, son, and, though with thy young life 'tis blown,Blare thou the Bugle, rousing man to sweepThe monsters back to Hell's profoundest deep,Where, mocking Spring and Sun-rise, they have grownOn longings for the sea, the world must weepWhen, from its heart, the hope of Peace has flown.
Go, son, and, though with thy young life 'tis blown,
Blare thou the Bugle, rousing man to sweep
The monsters back to Hell's profoundest deep,
Where, mocking Spring and Sun-rise, they have grown
On longings for the sea, the world must weep
When, from its heart, the hope of Peace has flown.
Dost thou, mad Kaiser, for historic name,Set fire to Europe? Is it joy to gazeAt blacker smoke than Etna's, and a blazeThat wakes up Chaos, wild to come and claimThe World, since Light, God-bidden though it came,Has failed to dawn upon our human ways?O Twin of Chaos! peer thou through the haze!'Tis Human Beings feed the crackling flame.Beware, the smoke, like Etna's, is the curseOf widows on thy people-dooming throne,And in no country, more than in thine own,Cry out all mothers: "Wherefore bear and nurse?To feed war with our sons, our flesh and bone,That chaos may reclaim the Universe?"
Dost thou, mad Kaiser, for historic name,Set fire to Europe? Is it joy to gazeAt blacker smoke than Etna's, and a blazeThat wakes up Chaos, wild to come and claimThe World, since Light, God-bidden though it came,Has failed to dawn upon our human ways?O Twin of Chaos! peer thou through the haze!'Tis Human Beings feed the crackling flame.
Dost thou, mad Kaiser, for historic name,
Set fire to Europe? Is it joy to gaze
At blacker smoke than Etna's, and a blaze
That wakes up Chaos, wild to come and claim
The World, since Light, God-bidden though it came,
Has failed to dawn upon our human ways?
O Twin of Chaos! peer thou through the haze!
'Tis Human Beings feed the crackling flame.
Beware, the smoke, like Etna's, is the curseOf widows on thy people-dooming throne,And in no country, more than in thine own,Cry out all mothers: "Wherefore bear and nurse?To feed war with our sons, our flesh and bone,That chaos may reclaim the Universe?"
Beware, the smoke, like Etna's, is the curse
Of widows on thy people-dooming throne,
And in no country, more than in thine own,
Cry out all mothers: "Wherefore bear and nurse?
To feed war with our sons, our flesh and bone,
That chaos may reclaim the Universe?"
The German mother has too long been whatA Chancellor once called the "Kingdom's Cow."Ah, as she bears the droves for slaughter, howHer dumb-beast eyes crave pity for her lot!See, there she smiles, like loving God forgot—All His supernal patience on her brow.How long must her grand arch of brain, as now,Bear up a universe "of what should not"?There, lies she, crushed by troops in hot pursuitOf mocking shadows; for be Gain complete,What is it but twin brother to defeat?Stand up the dead on any bloody route.Stoop for no kiss from orphans, at thy feet,O Triumph! for ash-cord is all thy fruit.
The German mother has too long been whatA Chancellor once called the "Kingdom's Cow."Ah, as she bears the droves for slaughter, howHer dumb-beast eyes crave pity for her lot!See, there she smiles, like loving God forgot—All His supernal patience on her brow.How long must her grand arch of brain, as now,Bear up a universe "of what should not"?
The German mother has too long been what
A Chancellor once called the "Kingdom's Cow."
Ah, as she bears the droves for slaughter, how
Her dumb-beast eyes crave pity for her lot!
See, there she smiles, like loving God forgot—
All His supernal patience on her brow.
How long must her grand arch of brain, as now,
Bear up a universe "of what should not"?
There, lies she, crushed by troops in hot pursuitOf mocking shadows; for be Gain complete,What is it but twin brother to defeat?Stand up the dead on any bloody route.Stoop for no kiss from orphans, at thy feet,O Triumph! for ash-cord is all thy fruit.
There, lies she, crushed by troops in hot pursuit
Of mocking shadows; for be Gain complete,
What is it but twin brother to defeat?
Stand up the dead on any bloody route.
Stoop for no kiss from orphans, at thy feet,
O Triumph! for ash-cord is all thy fruit.
O fair, full moon! I look close at thy face.Thou must be happy, being in the skys;And, yet, thy flush grows pallor to mine eyes.Thou art as one, who breathless after chase,Would rest, but dreads to check her onward pace.O fugitive from where no fledgling flies,No bee finds bud, and where red billows rise,Engulfing down dark years, the Human Race!O thou pale moon, who hast companioned ManThrough every darkness since the night's first fall!Hast thou, along thy foot-worn, azure wall,Ever seen seas so hard for hope to span,As this red surge, that in a spring so small,A bird could beak it up, its flood began?
O fair, full moon! I look close at thy face.Thou must be happy, being in the skys;And, yet, thy flush grows pallor to mine eyes.Thou art as one, who breathless after chase,Would rest, but dreads to check her onward pace.O fugitive from where no fledgling flies,No bee finds bud, and where red billows rise,Engulfing down dark years, the Human Race!
O fair, full moon! I look close at thy face.
Thou must be happy, being in the skys;
And, yet, thy flush grows pallor to mine eyes.
Thou art as one, who breathless after chase,
Would rest, but dreads to check her onward pace.
O fugitive from where no fledgling flies,
No bee finds bud, and where red billows rise,
Engulfing down dark years, the Human Race!
O thou pale moon, who hast companioned ManThrough every darkness since the night's first fall!Hast thou, along thy foot-worn, azure wall,Ever seen seas so hard for hope to span,As this red surge, that in a spring so small,A bird could beak it up, its flood began?
O thou pale moon, who hast companioned Man
Through every darkness since the night's first fall!
Hast thou, along thy foot-worn, azure wall,
Ever seen seas so hard for hope to span,
As this red surge, that in a spring so small,
A bird could beak it up, its flood began?
How glares the tiger in his desert lair—Now half the world! Beholding with dismayThat Human Freedom is the tiger's prey,A giant, down whose shoulders, broad and bare,The long, thick, crimson flow is Sampson's hair,Makes haste to clutch the beast.Oh, how the clay beneath their struggle, reddens, night and day,Till lies the beast, a shapeless carcass there!Oh! never from the long, thick crimson flowA down thy shoulders from thy noble brow,America, came such God's-strength as now,Comes to thine arm against the world's grim foe—The beast that, sighting man, devours him, howThe world may end, a wilderness of woe.
How glares the tiger in his desert lair—Now half the world! Beholding with dismayThat Human Freedom is the tiger's prey,A giant, down whose shoulders, broad and bare,The long, thick, crimson flow is Sampson's hair,Makes haste to clutch the beast.Oh, how the clay beneath their struggle, reddens, night and day,Till lies the beast, a shapeless carcass there!
How glares the tiger in his desert lair—
Now half the world! Beholding with dismay
That Human Freedom is the tiger's prey,
A giant, down whose shoulders, broad and bare,
The long, thick, crimson flow is Sampson's hair,
Makes haste to clutch the beast.
Oh, how the clay beneath their struggle, reddens, night and day,
Till lies the beast, a shapeless carcass there!
Oh! never from the long, thick crimson flowA down thy shoulders from thy noble brow,America, came such God's-strength as now,Comes to thine arm against the world's grim foe—The beast that, sighting man, devours him, howThe world may end, a wilderness of woe.
Oh! never from the long, thick crimson flow
A down thy shoulders from thy noble brow,
America, came such God's-strength as now,
Comes to thine arm against the world's grim foe—
The beast that, sighting man, devours him, how
The world may end, a wilderness of woe.
Where flies our flag is Freedom's holy ground;There, it unfurls all benisons to Man.The twin of Spring, its spread unfolds God's planOf human happiness, by setting boundTo greed, lust, powers,—all colds,—that Right be crowned.Lo! where it leads, ye youth form valor's van,Mirrored and echoed by the azure's spanFor ages, for Man's gain in yours is wound.Oh, justice's Hot Gulf Stream are ye, who openThe sea, which fiendish craft has frozen hard!Oh, may your warmth for righteousness transformThe tyrant's artic region, with no hope in,To Freedom's Temperate Zone, which they, who guardThe planets, save from wreck by quake or storm.
Where flies our flag is Freedom's holy ground;There, it unfurls all benisons to Man.The twin of Spring, its spread unfolds God's planOf human happiness, by setting boundTo greed, lust, powers,—all colds,—that Right be crowned.Lo! where it leads, ye youth form valor's van,Mirrored and echoed by the azure's spanFor ages, for Man's gain in yours is wound.
Where flies our flag is Freedom's holy ground;
There, it unfurls all benisons to Man.
The twin of Spring, its spread unfolds God's plan
Of human happiness, by setting bound
To greed, lust, powers,—all colds,—that Right be crowned.
Lo! where it leads, ye youth form valor's van,
Mirrored and echoed by the azure's span
For ages, for Man's gain in yours is wound.
Oh, justice's Hot Gulf Stream are ye, who openThe sea, which fiendish craft has frozen hard!Oh, may your warmth for righteousness transformThe tyrant's artic region, with no hope in,To Freedom's Temperate Zone, which they, who guardThe planets, save from wreck by quake or storm.
Oh, justice's Hot Gulf Stream are ye, who open
The sea, which fiendish craft has frozen hard!
Oh, may your warmth for righteousness transform
The tyrant's artic region, with no hope in,
To Freedom's Temperate Zone, which they, who guard
The planets, save from wreck by quake or storm.