THE MEETING OF THE CENTURIESA curious vision on mine eyes unfurledIn the deep night. I saw, or seemed to see,Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-à-visAcross the great round table of the world:One with suggested sorrows in his mien,And on his brow the furrowed lines of thought;And one whose glad expectant presence broughtA glow and radiance from the realms unseen.Hand clasped with hand, in silence for a spaceThe Centuries sat; the sad old eyes of one(As grave paternal eyes regard a son)Gazing upon that other eager face.And then a voice, as cadenceless and grayAs the sea’s monody in winter time,Mingled with tones melodious, as the chimeOf bird choirs, singing in the dawns of May.The Old Century SpeaksBy you, Hope stands. With me, Experience walks.Like a fair jewel in a faded box,In my tear-rusted heart, sweet Pity lies.For all the dreams that look forth from your eyes,And those bright-hued ambitions, which I knowMust fall like leaves and perish, in Time’s snow,(Even as my soul’s garden stands bereft,)I give you pity! ’tis the one gift left.The New CenturyNay, nay, good friend! not pity, but Godspeed,Here in the morning of my life I need.Counsel, and not condolence; smiles, not tears,To guide me through the channels of the years.Oh, I am blinded by the blaze of lightThat shines upon me from the Infinite.Blurred is my vision by the close approachTo unseen shores, whereon the times encroach.The Old CenturyIllusion, all illusion. List and hearThe Godless cannons, booming far and near.Flaunting the flag of Unbelief, with GreedFor pilot, lo! the pirate age in speedBears on to ruin. War’s most hideous crimesBesmirch the record of these modern times.Degenerate is the world I leave to you,—My happiest speech to earth will be—adieu.The New CenturyYou speak as one too weary to be just.I hear the guns—I see the greed and lust.The death throes of a giant evil fillThe air with riot and confusion. IllOfttimes makes fallow ground for Good; and WrongBuilds Right’s foundation, when it grows too strong.Pregnant with promise is the hour, and grandThe trust you leave in my all-willing hand.The Old CenturyAs one who throws a flickering taper’s rayTo light departing feet, my shadowed wayYou brighten with your faith. Faith makes the manAlas, that my poor foolish age outranIts early trust in God! The death of artAnd progress follows, when the world’s hard heartCasts out religion. ’Tis the human brainMen worship now, and heaven, to them, means—gain.The New CenturyFaith is not dead, tho’ priest and creed may pass,For thought has leavened the whole unthinking mass,And man looks now to find the God within.We shall talk more of love, and less of sin,In this new era. We are drawing nearUnatlassed boundaries of a larger sphere.With awe, I wait, till Science leads us on,Into the full effulgence of its dawn.
A curious vision on mine eyes unfurledIn the deep night. I saw, or seemed to see,Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-à-visAcross the great round table of the world:One with suggested sorrows in his mien,And on his brow the furrowed lines of thought;And one whose glad expectant presence broughtA glow and radiance from the realms unseen.
Hand clasped with hand, in silence for a spaceThe Centuries sat; the sad old eyes of one(As grave paternal eyes regard a son)Gazing upon that other eager face.And then a voice, as cadenceless and grayAs the sea’s monody in winter time,Mingled with tones melodious, as the chimeOf bird choirs, singing in the dawns of May.
The Old Century Speaks
By you, Hope stands. With me, Experience walks.Like a fair jewel in a faded box,In my tear-rusted heart, sweet Pity lies.For all the dreams that look forth from your eyes,And those bright-hued ambitions, which I knowMust fall like leaves and perish, in Time’s snow,(Even as my soul’s garden stands bereft,)I give you pity! ’tis the one gift left.
The New Century
Nay, nay, good friend! not pity, but Godspeed,Here in the morning of my life I need.Counsel, and not condolence; smiles, not tears,To guide me through the channels of the years.Oh, I am blinded by the blaze of lightThat shines upon me from the Infinite.Blurred is my vision by the close approachTo unseen shores, whereon the times encroach.
The Old Century
Illusion, all illusion. List and hearThe Godless cannons, booming far and near.Flaunting the flag of Unbelief, with GreedFor pilot, lo! the pirate age in speedBears on to ruin. War’s most hideous crimesBesmirch the record of these modern times.Degenerate is the world I leave to you,—My happiest speech to earth will be—adieu.
The New Century
You speak as one too weary to be just.I hear the guns—I see the greed and lust.The death throes of a giant evil fillThe air with riot and confusion. IllOfttimes makes fallow ground for Good; and WrongBuilds Right’s foundation, when it grows too strong.Pregnant with promise is the hour, and grandThe trust you leave in my all-willing hand.
The Old Century
As one who throws a flickering taper’s rayTo light departing feet, my shadowed wayYou brighten with your faith. Faith makes the manAlas, that my poor foolish age outranIts early trust in God! The death of artAnd progress follows, when the world’s hard heartCasts out religion. ’Tis the human brainMen worship now, and heaven, to them, means—gain.
The New Century
Faith is not dead, tho’ priest and creed may pass,For thought has leavened the whole unthinking mass,And man looks now to find the God within.We shall talk more of love, and less of sin,In this new era. We are drawing nearUnatlassed boundaries of a larger sphere.With awe, I wait, till Science leads us on,Into the full effulgence of its dawn.