Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: Stanwood Cobb, Poems to Live By, Washington, DC: Avalon Press, 1969, bahai-library.com. ────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── POEMS TO LIVE BY by Stanwood Cobb Avalon Press - Washington, D. C. 20015 ' . Copyright - 1969 By Stanwood Cobb Manufactured in the United States of America Other Books By Stanwood Cobb Th e- Jqde Necklace of Lin San Kwei - Verse What is Love? - Verse What is God? - Verse Sage of the Sacred Mountain What is Man? - Verse The Donkey and the Elephant - Verse Tomorrow and Tomorrow Syrnbo l s of America The Way of Lif e of Wu Ming Fu Cha.r a ct e r - A Sequence in Spiritual Psychology Patterns in Jade of Wu Ming Fu Security for a Failing World New Horizons for the Child Discovering the Genius Within You The Wisdom of Wu Ming Fu The New Leaven Simla - A Tale in Verse The Essential Mysticism Ayesha of the Bosphorus - A Romance The Real Turk The Meaning of Life The Destiny of America I slamic Contributions to Civilization Table of Contents Part 1 Poems of Youth Nature and Love Par t 11 Poems of the Spirit PARTI POEMSOFYOUTH, NATUREANDLOVE Out F'r orn an Examination Out from an examination pacing hot-headed, I percei ved the eternal r e al.i ti e s of natu r e: The glow of sunset in the western sky, The soft snow-lines upon the hi Il s , The sixth planet shining near the ho r i z on , And my soul found freedom again In the Infinite. Twofold Goal Enough, enough to me be gi ven A life both of the earth and hea ven; The one amidst the deeds of man, And one where only Faith may sean. L'Envoi A final word From one who take s alone the path That all must wa Ik , Let it be said That life is as you live i t, The sky now blue , now gray In mood to match The sunshine and the shadow of your soul. The Path For me there is no great nor les s, No failure or success; The path I follow as the vision leads. For time, I have eternity to r oarnj For spa ce , the universe my home, Content to go as Destiny me speeds. The Homeland Like a well known voice in a foreign land Comes a bit of music here; a poem; A song that bids me rise And go to my Father's home. Do I rest content with th e things that are here? I Ti s because I see no other; And voice s of the Pa st Are drowned in a saddened d r e arn , Why do I linger here when a world of wonder waits? A world where the purple hills look down On a people of might . - On a people who know their glorious God-gi ven powe r , It is there I be long , In the mystic homeland sweet. Why come ye s ourid s , strange melodies - To prick my heart till the yearning blood leaps forth! O why, you poems of unusual meter, That under the common meaning of your words Bear me aloft on billows Of inexplicable forgotten sound? O why, you pi ctu r e , lurks that subtl e smile Beneath the contour of the form and color Is pride? As who should hint "Do st s ta y, when the home-breeze whispers forth?" I dreamed the other night I stood upon hills three And saw a greater thing Than ever I have known - So great that half of it escapes my waking sight. But now I know what beauty m ean s , And at its call My struggling soul would restless burst away And fly back home where friends await its coming. Man and De stiny To strut like a rooster in the sun , To feel the joy oí every bird that sings, To thrill with life like yonder nodding flower s, This is existence. To open one1s arms to al.l one1s fellow be ing s , To read behind each face the person hidden there, To see beneath all evil the good that may become, This is benevolence. To feel oneself grow less and Ie s s , To reach the point where Self no more exists, To float in the fulness oí the cosmic whole, This is Eternity. Breath oí th e Summer Morn Breath oí the summer morn, Dew on the rose, Perfumes that are shed abroad With every breeze that blows: Seek ye, perhaps, sorne passer-by To stop and dream and sigh? Then here am I! Oh here am I! A Creed of Happiness I ama pagan, If making ha ppine s s an aim of lif e Is pagan. And I am a philosopher, If the belief one l s happiness must be created, And the consideration of the means of its creation Is phí Io sophy, And this is my discovery: The key to happiness Is a simple and appreciative hea r t, The Universe surrounds with many joys Which go unheeded by the comrnon man. We win to happiness By bringing open vision, Zest for enjoyment, And a thankful heart To all activities of life And every hour of living. Can one sa y more than this ? Perhaps. But the credo here set forth Can be proved better by experience Than by mere words. Pea ce Ending the dreary war-torn night Zion feels the watchman bringing The dawn of planetary peace - And all her heart is singing. My Prayer Give me the mind to know, The will to feel, And enough strength to carry out The Truth. Grant that the universe may open up her secrets to me. I ask not to know all, But to know rightly that which Ido know. To be not led astray; To see not falsely through prejudice, Pride, sloth or wilfullne s s; But to see thnough the clear light of reason And to feel with the heart of a little child! Despair When life the de epe st settles like a cloud Of storm upon me, such as thunders loud Its dim despair, and flashes forth in gleam Of lights that with satanic menace teem, Then know I most, that though the sunny day s , And joy, are God - He also rides the storm And gives His angels charge of all the ways Of waste and death that lead to life Is reform. And lo, this cloud strange mystic rays illume Into a shape of high superna! grace; And in the midst of despair's darkest gloom, Behold! I see my Maker face to fa.ce , Sacred Hours Thank God for hours vouchsafed to u s, Freed from Time Is moving stream - When cosmic life, in leaf and flower, Holds us entrancéd in dream. The Madman Is Story They told me that such effort would do har m, Too great excitement for a failing mind! A period so critica! should be . Bridged over by mind-easing calrn and r e st, Or else the slender threads of reason1s woof Would snap, unravel and be swept away By maddening wí.nds , And so they counseled rn e t- Carefree, to leave ambition for the wh~e; Cut loase the cables, drift untaught to sea And let my goal grow dim upon the du sk , Oh what a way to save a tottering mind! What? Sacrifice ambition and all pl an s , Abandoning the joyous course marked out Just when the harbar light sends cheery rays To guide the struggling vessel to its goal? Am I to let the world slip by, fo r sooth, When but to hail it were to call it mine! Or lea ve the ripe fruit hanging on the bough Wñen it were mine for the mere plucking of it! As well advise the sailor leave his r aft When rescue boats are bearing down upon hírn , As well advise a conquering army lea ve The field of its well-wrested victory. They think the minds I last glimmer Is flickering out! Bah, let them think! I s nap my fingers at them! They do not know what genius is! They see An old cracked bell and call it valueless! But reason, after ali, what is its worth? Has reason ever moved the world? Won battles, Established a religion or a school? Or wrested from blind Nature many truths? No, r ea son does not so! But genius doe s, And madness is but genius in disguise. If I arn mad, I revel in this gift. Let tie s be snapped, let earth be left behind; And soaring through star-spaces, borne aloft On roseate clouds of the imagination Let's find what reason has but dimly guessed, And the inferior clay has never dreamed. Look you at me in pity? In contempt? I know that faint disdainful smile The creeps around the face of everyone Who listens to my story. I'll tell no more. Please go away! Keep pity for yourself! All Hail! Hail to life' s bold explorers, Pioneers who lead the way To unknown regions of the soul; Scale boldest crags, And find there a foothold firm. Without them, we should falter at the first steep climb; Sould fear by pr ecípi ce and brink; Should rest contented with low levels won, Why? Why should we always hear the first wild notes Of symphonie s that droop with subtle sweet, Only to miss the melody divine That lingers half discovered, half too fleet? Why should our hearts soar skyward like the lark At sight of sorne seraphic, heaven-lit face - Only to beat its passion out in vain Against the prison ba r s of time and place? O melody that comes to plague us so, O love that clings and will not let us go, We pr ay for Er e edornj yet a dreamless peace We would not wish for, that I know, Let other s satisfy their hearts I desire, Let others have a soul that's not on fí r e , The sunshine glows more deeply after rain; The seer, in pe a.ce , comes to his own again. When the Evening Shadows Fall Composed in 1908 at Acca When the evening shadows fall And the darkness covers all - When the turquoise and the blue Of the sea dissolve from vi ew, And the orange of the sky Fades befare the watching eye When the sunset shadows fall Ma y God' s peace enfold us all. What is Love? What is true love? Can anyone define? Hardly, for Iove follows no one line. There is the ardent love of flesh for flesh, Such as the cha rrn s of body may enmesh. When to such earthly love is added soul, We have conjuga! blissfulness in wh ol e , There is attracti ve Lo ve of one' s own kind, A deep attachment for the kindred mind. The !ove of mother for her cherished child Of human Io ve this is most sweetly mild. But of all Iove s , this is the final test - Welfare of others must to us seem be st] An Interlude? Is happiness an interlude, Or is it natur e ' s constant mood? For human s , it is all too rare - It seldom serves as daily fare! To Soar Aloft O butterfly from flower to flower flitting, How is it that I who here am sitting Can also fly and spread my golden wings, And soar al.oft with every bird that sings? Transmigration of Souls The Sparrow (Devotee of the Mart) You have no voice to sing and charm the soul, Your days are spent in grubbing on the street; Nor have you zest to soar against the sky,- Enough for you to hustle and to e at, The Crow (Cynic) Where things are black, your plumage blackest fi t s , You like, aloft, to sean the nether fields; And then, arion , with raucous clamorings Assure the world that life no pleasure yields. The Nightingale (Forlorn Lover) When spring her utmost beauty spreads abroad And moonlight gilds the blossom- scented air, You pour your heart in r aptur ou s melody Invoking memories of sorne old despair. The Eagle (Seer) You soar aloft s height; and dar e the zenith I Your wings can vantage you against the gale; And when you rest, 1tis on sorne sky-born crag Where turmoil does not r ea ch, nor silence fa i I, Newton - A Poetic Appreciation O Newton, who thy charms can fitly tell! Thy shaded streets, thy fair homes love so well; Thy re sidential heights by a r t enhanced; Thy simpler spot s where Nature lies entranced; Thy ponds that bask beneath the summer heat And ring in winter from the skaters' feet; Thy river where the summer idly floats In gay canoe s and sober-colored boats - O place of pleasure noted far and wide, Where is thine equal, charming Riverside? So far has loving Nature done her share To make the Garden City passing fair That she has seemed to justly signify - "He r e in no busy factory wheels shall ply, No dust-blown mart this charming site shall hol.d, Its people be of no inferior mold. " And so the thirteen Newtons, charming all, Laid out and grown to plan symmetrical, Ha.ve come to be the home of those who take Culture for theirs and live for culture's s ake , O may no footprints of a ruder r a c e Her paths of plenty and of peace defa ce , Let others have their palaces and domes, May Newton stay the city of fair homes. Perfection I wonder if all life must make the quest For a Perfection that is never found , I wonder if that chord must be denied, -To gi ve earth-music a celestial sound. When Hope is Gone Life still asserts itself, when hope is gone, for life is more than thought; It is the sacred Essence ba ck of time from which all things are wr ought, Then Iea r n, when hope grows dírn, to roerse yourself within this Cosmic Ocean - V:.'4ich can bring calm, or rouse the tired soul again to zestful motion. Knowe st Thou, O Soul? The shadows lengthen And we are far from home. Knowest thou the r oad, O Soul? Canst see amidst the gloam? "Though the road be lengthy, Though the goal be far - Never need we go astray With eyes on yon bright star!" But the way is r ough, O Soul; The night is hard to meet. How can mortals safely tread The path with stumbling feet? "Though the darkness deepens Though dusk obscures the sight - Never need we stumble here While at our feet this Light. 1' Toda y I arn so happy toda y, And I cannot tell why. Perhaps it1s the light in the ai r , Perhaps it1 s th e blue in the sky. Ido not ca r e what may come Or what tomorrow ma y bring; Today I'm in Io ve with Ii fe , Today I can only sing. Walking With My Lave Walking with my true lave The sun shines brighter s ti Il , The sky is b lu e r , and a glow Transcends the tree-clad hill. The river flows in pearly hue s , Framed in its sedge-brown fringe; And out acress the gray-blue flood Far shores show misty tinge. The earth is always filled with joy And beauty reigns superb above , When comradely a nd arm in arm I walk the meadows with my Iove , Creatori Lords of the Inner World, we, Land of the unbeknown - Where visions have exi.sted And high ideas have flown. Not ours the truckling market, Nor throne-rooms lined with g old, We dwell in faery castles And spirit scepter s h ol.d, We rule the elementals. Ours the creative fire That shapes a constellation, That solves a heart's de s i r e , Our love is pristine beauty; Our life is pa s s ed in d r e arn s , For usj pa r t s the mystic curtain And the light of knowledge beams. Today let us sow, theri, in gladness That tomorrow may reap what is sown. Our s not the car e for Earth Is wage s - Lords of the Unbe known, Exploring Truth May I see Truth, as from a mountain top Scouts see a vast terrain spread out before them Waiting to be explored, beckoning to adventure, Enticing with the promise of hid treasures; Luring one on in an eternal quest To goals not seen, but only gue s s ed, Above the Rainbow At the end of the r a inbow, So we are told, Lies bright buried treasure, A pot of pure gold; But this so elusi ve Escaping our hold. Above that same rainbow Lies wealth more kind; More valuable treasures, Within our strength to find - Treasures of the spirit, Treasure s of the mind. Song of the Jubilant Throat Why this life' s dullnes s? Where is the wrong That the h e a r t ' s fullne·ss Bur st into song? Song of the jubilant throat - Pricked with the yearning That through Spring' s caress Sets hearts aburning. Chant of the blood- red dawn, Hint of Hope' s morrow - Shall not today's bright sun Outshine all sorrow? Sacred Lyre I tune my sacred lyre To sorne celestial fire; Its strains mount sweet, mount higher, Like glorious chant from sorne exalted crag. Oh, may this inspiration never flag, These fingers never tire! To a Naiad Come and sit here - Sit by my side Abo ve the wa ves and ti d e , Are you sorne naiad Out of the deep? • 1 Have you love- strayed F'r orn one who would keep You bod y and h e a r t , Ne ver to part? Do you mourn For what is pa s t ? Have the Fates borne You here at last, To rest in pe a e e Here at my side - With no release, Whate'er betide? The Piscataqua I recline in the shade of the trees, The tidal river below; Not too much chill in the breeze, Only an ambient glow. It+s hot in the city, they say - Yes, it is stiffling hot. But here an entrancing day Gilds this sequestered spot , Yes! It is easy-to feel Close to God' s spirit her e• No church designed of brick or steel Brings Him so subtly near! A Perfect Day The birds are singing; And the sunlight gay Makes on the water A morn-magic ray. The air is fresh; And every leaf and flower Make s for loveline s s An enchanted hour , Here is a perfect day; Nature has done her best To fil! my heartwith joy To soothe my soul to re st , Fairies There is a woodland glade Where fairies dance Wrapt in the forest silence, Free from human glance. From a mos sy bank The music comes; Crickets piping shrill All the woodland fill; And the locusts' wings Furnish drums. What have they for light? The fire-fly' s torch. And the glow-worms give Lamps that do not scorch. See the green-bossed elves, Perched on flowers, Come to see the fun From their hidden bowers. They'll not dance tonight - Only fairies Sha r e this pure delight. Round and round they go, Bend and courtsey low. On the tiniest little feet They trip - and their toes Scarce with the dew drops meet That glitter on the rno s s , In the East light spa.r kl e s , And the stars grow dí.rn, What, must the fairies stop Just in the be st of trim? Yes, the music cease~, and the fairies gay Each with a fire-fly escort Haste away, At the stroke of three All must silent be - For fairies flee the appr oa ch of day. The Goal O Love, I turn to thee To guide me over life r s strange mystic sea. The thinker thinks his intellect the goal, But we know better, you and I, my soul. Love is the clue arid Love the guiding, too. Without it none may pass the spirit' s portals through. And so to that great Splendour of Desire far away, Love be my company, and Love my stay. The Flame This earth of our s , so gay, so bright, And you dar e say that life is without light? Go! In the darkness of your soul enquire For that one Flame that sets the worlds on fire. Evening Prayer for a Child God give thee pea ce , May angels kis s thee in thy sleep, And round about thy head so dear The wingéd seraphs vigil keep. God give thee joy, That thou mayest see His face - The whilst all troubles of the day Dissolve with Time and Spa ce , God give thee power - That thou maye st learn to bring Back with thee when thou com I st to earth The songs the angels sing. Thoughts The woods are full of last year1s chestnut-burs And dead leaves dance with every wind that stirs; Come, who would wish these back upon the tree Which toda y' s new life decks out so gloriously! Why blind the eyes with grieving for the past So that thou canst not see the joys thou hast? Wipe yesterday's unavailing tears away And greet the glorious sunshine of toda y. The future beckons with a golden smile And offers gifts which every heart beguile. But he who grasps the present moment's mead Has that whose worth all other worths exceed. Appearance and Reality From the ocean of Eternal Love Two waves carne breaking on the shor e , That travelled twain until their spray Was joined to separate no more. So from the Formless, issues form; From the Abs tr act, life' s joys are won, Ali that now moves as multiple, E'ternally is seen as one , Youth O youth, blossoming at our Or whence your innate wisdom fl ows , Cupid and Apollo Lave was sipping nectared bliss Brewed from honey of a kí s s , Cupid beside her, amorous boy, Was thinking whom he might annoy With his potent bow and arrows, Bored with shooting only spa r r ows , Apollo, music Is god, happed by As Cupid ventured toward Iove Is sky, Apollo smiled at Cupid Is sport, And gave advice in discourse short. "When you speed the heavens through, Shoot darts dipped in magic brew Distilled from music sweet and low - A yeast to make !ove quickly grow. Try thí s , and these words you'll prove: Men and music rna ke for Iove , 11 Nature and God Na.tur e ' s prolific. A single living cell, Left free to multiply without one death, Would in five years outweigh the earth itself! And myriad microbes crowd our every br ea th, Is God so generous to the lowest life That thrives below ea i-ths surface o r above, And yet be limited in spiritual goods, Or fail in His abundant gift of Love? And still, with all its teeming vital wealth, Matter is limited in its supply. Love only, through the Cosmos, knows no fail - Its boundaries as infinite as the sky , And Love has miracles that nature lacks; The more of it that's used, the more it grows. And who gives most of love to other men Will find that love, to him, more richly flows. What is Desire? What is desire? A slumbering fire That smoulders for days, Then bur sts into blaze - De stroying all in i ts path Like the ragings of wrath. When peace follows pain, Desire smoulders again. Love is the Light of Home The Universe is vast, It terrifie s the soul! Man as a fragment Is lost in the Whole. Lave is Life's Anchor, The focus of Being; Here man is All, As sight is all of seeing. No longer wandering, Not aimless to r oarn , Not lost in the cosmos, Lave is the light oí home. Hope Hope is the sunshine oí tomorrow- The truth that all things deítly move Serene to gladness out of sorrow, That Faith her steadfast pledge may prove. A Little While Descending from sorne heaven oí delight You carne to dwell on earth a little while - Bearing celestial joy within your heart, Wearing delight as an eternal srní.Ie , The Morning After the Strife Alone, alone with the cold, cold dead, And the sea breaking clase at hand, The beach is strewn with the harvest of war, And the ocean frowns on the Iand, Ali gone, all gone is the noise of the strife, And the dead are an ashen gray. One man alone has lived through the night, Will he die at the break of day? Slowly, slowly he raises him up, For his limbs are frozen and stiff. Slowly he looks on his comrades the dead As they lie at the foot of the cliff. "My comrades, why have you left me here, Alone with the sea and the sky? Shall I alone live to tell the tale, How I have seen you die? "No, oh no! May the dear Lord forbid! " In a pitiful voice he cried. And God on high gave heed to his cry - For he passed at the turn of the tide. Roll on, O sea, to the foot of the cliff, And cover the bodies gray. Tosa, toss the limbs in the dim light of dawn - They will never see the day! A Year of Travel A year of travel - how the words entice! Italy, from south to north, Venice, the Alps; Germany's southl.and, the Rhine, Hol.Iand, Belgium and France, Pa.r i s , the city of the gay and beautiful; A week of touring in Touraine; Then London for three weeks, Cornwall, and home at Ia st, The plan is perfect, so you say (on reading i t}, A varied feast of a r t, and music, and street s ce ne s , Of classic ruins, chur ch e s , palaces and parks; Interspiced with country j aunt s , fresh aí r , the sea and mountains. And so we started, setting sail from that great por t, Bidding farewell to friends and relati ves; Hearts filled, half with th e thoughts of home, Half with anticipations of delight a c r o s s the sea. A merry company aboa r d, cong ení al , friendly, So grown together thr o ' the long three weeks of cruise That when the parting carne there were many sad farewells. Italy at Ia st, and the dirty streets of Napl e s , Cap r i , that glorious isle, sea-girt,with beauties that entice the traveller to s tr ol.lj Lingering ca r e s s ing l y along her shores Come next Sorrento, Amalfi and Ravello - Nam e s that linger in the memory like sunset hue s , The Belvedere with its many magic views, Ravello Is mountain-climbs and chestnut graves, Its sturdy natural peasants, swift to song; Its old remains and gardens, its qui et hour s of thought. Then Cava and Pompei - first glimpse of Roman life; In ashes tho ' it lay, still charming, still hinting of the beauty of its prime, Revealing inner secrets of the Roman home. One forro still lingers in my mind, indelibly impressed - One frozen feminine forro baring its lines of beauty to the world - A Roman maiden who found immortality in death. O, Rome! once mistress of the world, now of my h ea r t, What words can tell thy clas sic charro? The inspiration of thy potency Moulded by the hand of man in forros of beauty that no year s can dull; Thy ancient ruins, thy rn e di ee va.I streets; Thy sculptures so expressive of the past; Thy Sistine Chapel that can still amaze a world; Thy vistas, dissolving one upon the other like swiítly moving films. My mind' s eye now sees the sunset glories from thy Pinchon hill; Now proudly mounts thy Sparii sh Steps and ba ckwa r d glances o1er the moonlit rooís; Now strolls amidst the verdure of Bor ghé s e grounds, Watching the sunshine sparkle on th e grass. And scanning every passer-by, Now dimly threads the leafy labyrinth of the Doria park With a fair friend, under a fair sunset sky. Thy narrie shall ever call up memories of joy; Oí social calls, new charming faces; Pleasure of the opera and dance; Thy meeting, Vedder, and the joy oí it; New friendships, new !oves íormed (For to me all friends are lovers); Those wa lk s , exchange of thoµghts; ·communion made inspiring by thy great destiny, O, Rome! Florence - hill girt, eloquent of the Quatro Cento art - Thy charms half failed us in those dreary weeks of early spring, As a fair woman1s face is rendered ashy gray by cold. Would that I could see thee once again in the Spring Is prime - Could stroll about thy hills; Could linger on Fiesole, deep-drinking of her glorious view; Could steep myself in sunshine of Italian skies. Yet there is one "Sp r i ng " I never shall forget - Boticelli Is - for in him I found a fr end,í A mystic friend who speaks to me of joys half-hid, Of beauties tremulous to the wistful gaze. Venice! I review thy waterways And greet with joy again St. Ma r ks , The Doge1s Palace, the Canal With all its fairy forms of art domestic. I see again thy paintings after a lustrum 1s lapse; And admire, as of old, sorne canva s e s , Lose interest in other s , and find in exchange New beauties in artists unappreciated then. At last Italy abandoned, cities left b ehí.nd, Comes the simple grandeur of the earth snow-clad; Of mountain tops outlined against a dazzling sky; Joy of winter sports, snow-skiing, coa s ti ng , walking under white-capped fir s Along the mountain- s ide , That was a pleasant week, Ma r r e d slightly by the strain of too much exercise - (Lessons still to learn in self-restraint, in patience). But, on the whole, a pleasant week of mingled work and play, of bracing aí r , of snow-lined sunsets and of mountain peaks. O Muní ch , City of famed beer-halls Where German families enjoy at slight expense Nights of good cheer and rnu s i c , Nowhere in the world are "gemutlicheit" and "music" so enjoyed together In one long evening around a social table. The Germans invented b e e r , And they know how to drink it Slowly for good fellowship. They also ga ve great mu sic to the world. And here under one roof "Culrnba che r " and "Beethoven" flow together. Her e , too, in Munich science reigns, Set forth in the wo r Id l s first industrial museum. Think not that I forget thy a r t, O Munich, Or thy Wagnerian joys; thy museums and thy civic splendour s; Thy perfect cleanliness and simple elegance; Nor do I forget thy social joys, The sight of happy radiant faces, the play of comradeship, Of the ideal friendship that subsists Where Freedom Is youths and maidens hold converse. And so good-bye to Germany, with her pleasant homes, Her men and women who know how to li ve, How to. extract from simple thing s their jo y s , Amsterdam next - arioth e r German r a c e , but different, better dressed; Joining the vigour of th e Teuton with the Pa r i s g r a ce , Thy women, Hol.l.and, are as fair arid charming As thy smiling meadows and thy subdued sea. Belgium, with her aping air s of Par is And her softer r a c e carinot win our hearts as Holland Which helped to give our freedom birth. Nor can her a r t compare to Hol.Iand ' s In simplicity, in restraint or human touch. París, city of the Muses' sway, Robed in thy beauty oí th e courtesan That pleads for pleasure and invites to joy; I lave thee, yet confess, to live too long within thy atmosphere Were to forget all effort and accomplishment. I love th y boul e va r d s , far- stretching to the e ye , Fair-lined with trees, broad and luxurious, tempting the loiterer on and on, Where in this world could one stroll on city streets With half the joy as her e, sa ve in our own fair capital? Thy pa r k s , thy quainter spot s Where streets wind in and out amid old buildings; Thy eager throng on pleasure bent, Overflowing every boulevard and park. A scene I never shall forget; to stand At clase oí day, amid the city dusk - Her purple lights on every side - upon Champs Elysées And looking up and down, behold the line of swiftly moving vehicles; And in the distance, proudly limned against the sky , Thy Arch of Triumph in an aureole of mist. Beauty, beauty, beauty! Oh my heart - That faster beats in dreams of thee - Here is thy shrine, here is thy home, here thy decay; And in the land a eros s the sea, thy resurrection. And thanks again to th e e , O Paris, For old friends and new ones; For pleasant social life, for intimate joys of lofty conversation. Thanks for new literary plans. And mostly thanks for th i s , That thou hast brought me into comradeship again For three short weeks With that true friend and brother of the East, Hussein. Touraine, the Loí r e , chateaux - How these words charm! Long sunny r de s , fresh ai r , swift passing scenery í - With sorne goal each day of beauty and of worth; Sorne cha.teau rich with history and art, Embellished with fond hands of many a king and courtier - Or, perhaps, the residence of love! Blush not, oh towers, at what transpired underneath your roofs! What a wealth of names - Charnbo r d, Azzy, Chinon, Loches, Chaumont, Chenonceau and Blois - How can one choose a favourite? For me Chaumont will ever stand on its fair site Enticing, beckoning, tempting me to linger o'er its sunset glory. Alas, the pen must lea ve these beauties and proceed To Albion Is shore - mi stress of the seas; To London, hugest city of the world. There is an inspiration just in this immensity, And to travel day by day ba ckwa r d and forward, miles apar t, And never yet see limits to thy pale - This is impres si ve. Then joy, O London, joy of friends, new-found And ol d; joy of swift comrnuní on, Of thoughts that balance thoughts And sympathy that makes this old dr ab earth a song. Joy of thy suburbs, of thy social life, The solid pleasures of thy English heart. But sorrow, London, sorrow and great sharn e For poverty that stalks thy streets; For privilege that lies entrenched behind a hundred barriers of wrong. Shame for thy stiff-necked pride That plays the miser to thy woman's need, And dost withhold the social justice of the ag e , Strange obdurate r a ce , Unyielding to the challenge of the times! Who shall say thy part is played? But count me as one who , lover of the world, Loves still his British brother most. And so we end the trip - Bringing home with us a treasure-trove Of art; memories of a thousand scenes of beauty; Clearer understanding of the European life and pr og r e s s , New insight into human nature. Thanks to th e e , dear friend, Whose genius has made possible this trip; Whose capacity for work has taught me new content; Whose insight into life Has lifted many veils for me. Autumn Trails Have you walked with the autumn wi nd s When the air breaths a blessing of health; Have you trod the forests grown old In hoarding their Le af - blown wealth? In the glow of the sunset red When the day1s harsh sounds have fl e d , And over the earth The sky gi ves birth To its radiance nightly shed? She Walked with Me O Lo ve , she walked alone wi th me Upon the borders oí the sea; Foam-crested waves were running hi gh, And scudding clouds obscured the sky. With lambert eyes she made the plea Will you be ever true to me? 11 And I, with consummate conceit Said: 11Yes! My ardor will complete. With the íull force oí the wild wa ve , And every quaint adventure brave. And like those clouds that skim the sky, My love shall greatly qualiíy." Beaut y is Immortal Schubert sold his inspired song s For a mere pittance, And died a saddened and discouraged man. Little did he dream that through modern miracles oí sound His melodies would reach and bring delight To audiences oí millions. He who creates true beauty - Whether in song or paint, or in fair words - Becomes thus one of the Irnmortals. Laila "What is the s e c r e t, my Laila That makes you smile so deep? 11 11 It is an angel's whisper That only the heart can ke ep, 11 What is the light from heaven That shines through your amethyst eyes? 11 It is a bit of star-glint That sh on e first in Paradise. 11 What is the magic potion That makes your charm divine? 11 1 have tasted life's sweetest nectar - Love lends me joy of her wirie , 11 Today I Can Only Sing I am so happy today And I cannot tell why; Perhaps it's the light in the air, Perhaps it's the blue in the sky , I do not car e what ma y come Or what tomorrow may bring; Today I'm in love with life, Toda y I can onl y sing. A Great Love Come in,John, It's good to see you. Elizabeth has been upon the very verge of death. They would not let me stay there longer at her side - I needed rest, they s aí d, and sent me home. But I cannot r e st, I cannot bear to be alone, And so I phoned for you. 'I'ha.nk.s, J'ohn, for coming. Sit down. He r e ' s sherry - tha.t ' s your favorite drink, As I recall. And he r e+s sorne cigarettes. Me? No, I'll neither drink no r smoke with you, But only talk - speak out sad thoughts that burn within. Such sharing of my heart with you tonight, Dear friend, will be the best of ariod yn e s , Ours has been a great Io ve l You understand! And yet You cannot grasp my full significance When I say - "Great." And if you ask - "How great? 11 I might say - "Greater than words, higher than the sta r s , Ample as life itself, and universal Like the air we breathe, yet warm like sun shí ne , 11 But when I say all thi s , what can it mean To you, unless your heart, like mine, has known Those ecstasies but rarely granted mortals? When I look back, I marvel that I failed To realize what a paradise was mine! She loved me, gave me all her heart and mind, All her fair body; and yet more - her soul , A love so ardent, so all-possessing and po s s e s s ed , So warm, so sweetly gentle, yet so potent When the flood-tides flowed! How often she declared She loved my voice, my springing gait, my poí s e , My eyes, my Ií.ps , my smile of Lo ve , In fact She loved, she s ai d, naught less than all of me. And I, needless to say, loved all of her - Adored her smile, the glory of her eyes, Her buoyancy arid spring-like energy of youth. She knew her love for me before I knew My love for her. In fa ct , she broached it fir st, Or else perhaps we never would have mated. For I could not , I'm sure, have brought myself To propose that such disparity of age Should join in wedded bliss. It would have been Too selfish of me to have asked her youthfulness To find the consummation of her life In me - the warmth of June mated to Novernb e r , But so it was! We loved, and joined our lives! I guess that it was meant to be; so she declares, At any rate. A marriage made in heaven. This I know, it ha.s brought a heaven-on-earth to me! I ask her sometimes if she doesn't regret Not marrying a younger man. No, she says - After meeting me she couldn 't endure Men of her age or there-abouts. What could They talk about compared with me? I don 't mean To vaunt myself. For it was she declared Our talk together ranged the universe, Plumbed depths of knowledge, soared on wings Oí ecstasy in sharing side by side Beauties oí nature, oí music and oí poe sy, Toward everything we felt the same reaction. Twin soul s , you say? She made it simpler. ''We are the same! 11 she used to say, referring To a stirring love-theme she had seen portrayed Upan the screen, oí simple mountain maid and man. 11We are the same! 11 she oíten s aí d, 11For see How we respond the same to everything! 11 And it wa s true, we dí d, In very fact, It was amazing how we shared each oth e r ' s thoughts And feeling s. I wonder ií two souls can join Their roots together so the fruitage stems From both? In truth, it seemed that way with u s , I could say oí her, as Poe said oí "Annabe l Lee'', That she had no thought than to lave and be loved by me. And such Io ve is r a r e these days - with women's rights, . And woman1s conílicts between love arid self-expression. But truly, what is self-expression in a woman? Who knows? Perhaps it finds its best íulfillment In wifely devotion to a mate, a home, And happy children; in joy at her husband Is skill And ca r e e r - progress, That! s what Elizabeth thinks, At any rate. She says, "That' s the kind oí self- expression That suits me - to li ve in you and in your work. 11 One might go further into this philosophy oí sex - A subject deep as life itself. The yin and yang That so intrigued philosophers in China From long ago - the Active and the Passive; The male,creative .. and the mate r e c eptí ve , Isn't that how life ftself is made? Doe s the same Relationship exist on mental planes? The male being typically the creator; And the female, silent par tne r , furnishing Occultly psychic and spiritual support .,- Joining her soul-stuff to his so that the fruit That i s sue s, the creation, is of them both, Yet both to function in their ówn--sex wa y. Well, that is what she thinks; and far from me To disagree, seeing my real success is dueto he r a- Due to her spiritual and selfless love; Her buoying up of all my psychic strength; Her fructifying ardor laid upon the altar Of my creative urge, both light and warmth To me. The resulting gains are palpable To all who read and praise my latest works. And now, am I to lose this light of life? It's fifty-fifty whether she live or die. There Is sorne hope left, thank. God, but not too much! Why did we risk it! The doctors warned us childbirth Might be dangerous. But she, in her sweet way, persisted. She craved a child by me, pledge of our love: A tiny replica to repeat the traits she loved In me - blue eyes, kind mouth, and all the rest - A bundle of love, to live upon her breast, Grow strong within her arms, and gladden her (She dreaded to speak of this) when I am gorie, And so we risked it - and I ha ve a son, But in the doing may have lost a wife! I shame to say, this is no recompense! (paces up and down in silence) Yes, I should be silent after such a speech - Should be a shamed, But we're not masters of Our will. Rather, our emotions master us, And so you see me in this mood tonight - And I am at this moment torn in two Between desire to know the wor st, and fear To ascertain it. "Why not try, " you say? "The news may be goodv " Well, why not? Here goes - What? - There1s more than fifty-fifty chance? Good hope? Thank God for that! Now I can sleep. Well, John, you1re here to see the curtain fall On happier ending to Act Two than I Had dared to hope for. Act One was deep despair. Pray God Act Three may yet still better fare, And bring the drama to a joyous end, "Amen! Amen!" you say? Thank you, dear friend! I need not keep you longer. You may go, Your kindly visit has relieved my woe. Now I can sleep. Thank God - I say again! Whennext I see you, pray there be no pain! Irnmanence Down the long puzzled corridor s of Time Eternity slips by with veiléd face; Nor realize we its hourly immanence, Or that Infinity inhabits present space, Sunset Publ.í sh ed , 1902, Dartmouth Literary Magazine Slowly the dying day is waning in the west; Slowly the sun is sinking to its re st; Slowly the crimson changes to a gentler hu e; Slowly the pink gives place to night1s majestic blue; The day is done. Dusk in a City In the dusk there is something att r a ct s me, In the dusk of a lar ge city. I love to feel the coming on of ni ght, To know the luminous sta r s will soon appe a r , I love the golden lamps of city streets, And the afterglow in the sky. I stand in the midst of a street And wat ch its dirn perspective vanish In a purple mist. I stand on a street corner And watch the passers-by intent on th ei r home-going.,. I stand and look in a shop window golden with light. The moments swiftly pass. I turn - The sky is ví.olet, and the night has come. Absence I send my dearest love to you And waft it with a ki s s , Even absence can be bliss When it preves love to be so distant-true. Would that our arms could intertwine. That still I could embrace you With ardent aspect face you And feel your warm heart nestle against mine. But spirit can with magic power Defy the laws of spa ce; Make Time yield up its grace To shrink Eternity to one glad hour , This hour, th en , I spend with you In thoughts of happy da ys In memory of gracious ways Which erstwhile preved your love so warmly true. Retreat Sweet is the path of dalliance, when The west wind blows; And sunshine spreads felicity And joy abounding flows. But ha r d, oh ha r d , th e bitter steps Retracing such a path; Striving, struggling on against The north wind Is blast! The Saint The Saint is one whom light shines through, they say. His vision of the truth can far outspan Earthly horizons, for by Cosmic Ray He glimpses regions beyond human ken, Reality transcendent and sublime Along can motivate his lonely soul. His s cope no space can limit, nor can time. The Universa.! is his que st and goal. He breaks the fabric of Society With forces uncondítioned and unborn Oí men. It is his airo to boldly free Humans from all that renders life forlorn. He makes for progress, for deliverance. He sets th e captive free, raises th e de ad, And fills the barren soil with serní nanc e , And where the sheep are hungry, sees them fed , God ' s Bestowal Why do you fear, faint heart? The trees are budding bliss, The shrubs in flower, And nature grows more beautiful each hou r , Can you perceive all this, And not with joy claim your own par t Of that which God bestows as radíant power? With Dante Eye hath not seen, ea r hath not heard Those things for which men Is hearts are fain - Strange joys and loveliness in store Beyond this meagre earth-bound pla ne , But we, with Dante, have been blessed To soar aloft and receive sight And touch of Love Superna!; to swoon Almost, before Its dazzling light. A Toast to Love Love is life's central law And hath not any flaw. Love travels ne a r and travels far, It move s the atom and the sta r , And median in this Cosmic s pari, Love plays the tyrant over man. Benevolent tyrant, we must grant, It satisfies our every want. To such a ruler we give toast - Love , ever be our benign ho st , Harvests Love, make fertile the soil of my heart And deeper plow this Iand, to bear Flowers of poesy more fair And harvests rich for Beauty's rna r t, If Dreams were True If dreams were true I'd be with you Tonight, dear one - If dreams were only true! The shades of evening falling, Then would I sink to sleep And send my soul thineward Over the mystic deep - Somewhere to meet under the stars; Sorn ewher e the soul Is tryst to ke ep, In dreamland where no distance ba r s , Did I not dream befare, dear one, That thou wert near? That thy soul' s fragrance beat in space? That thou wert with me fa ce to face, And I forgot to fear? Did I not feel thy strength as mine When morning light did beam? Did I not bear a song away And sing i t all the li ve long da y - From that sweet holy dream? If dreams are true, then I shall be with you Tonight. Let space be as it may, Let time refuse to stay, If dreams are true, then I shall be with you, Picnic in January It has come Saturday, so let us play - Our stage the river-bank, our time, a day That's bright with sunshine andas warmly rare As if June mixed her warmth with winter ai r , Here let us spend our hour s, let Nature steep Our very souls with her elixir deep Of joy. And when eyes have had their fill, Then taste the nectar poetry can distill. Woo Browning's histrionic vivid power; Let Shelley' s beauty spell a trancéd hour Under blue skies where he so liked to r ove , Conceive his poems, meditate his Lo ve , But Iook, how cloud-wisps fill the pastel sky Presenting its own poetry to the eye; Upan the river silver moonlight glows; The water rippling as the soft breeze blows. Now r adí ant has come the sunset time. And we can leave all artificial rhyme For the r apt poesy that Nature gives To every heart that burns where Beauty thrives. Twin cedars dark against a luminous west, The eastern sky in softer colors dr e s s edy-. All this mild beauty so intrigues the heart, We're fain to stay and helpless to depart. And now more luminous grows the sil ver moon Riding a pink and azure sky in tune With sorne faint mystic meaning, as if to say 11! bring new joys with the departing day. 11 Pack up the lunch thi ng s , Put each precious book Safe in the satchel. Take one lingering look At Nature Is wide drcumference of beauty - Then, ba ck to ci vilization and to duty. Forget, Forgi ve Forget, forgive! We have but once to Ii ve , Why clutter up the years With obstacles arid fears? Let us not hold so fast To troubles that have pa s s ed , There come new suns As each year runs - And pe a ce will dawn at last. Love An ounce of the attar of Lov e Outweighs mere gol d, Outshines the fairest gems, Thrills more than story ever told, Outvalues pa.Lac e s and pomp And all the clas sic beauty Oí a world grown old. Elyseum Elyseum is where you are, Mavou rn ee n! Contentment is the land in which you dwell. And where the sunshine gilds those Deathless Fields, You walk amidst the flowers of asphodel. Joy Joy, from her own high cour t, Wandered one day to Earth. She found it a disheveled place, Where wastrel mirth Too much debased. Where grace Of a true happine s s was naught, Then filled with quick dismay She turned to haste away - But the Creator laid a staying hand Upan her spi r it, with the soft command: "Sta y here! No accident Caused your abrupt d e sc ent, 'Twas as We planned. Your presence here is meant To change the pulse of Earth; To replace sin and sadness With sanctity and worth, And to establish gladnes s. You are the envoy of my Love. That life is good, it is your task to preve. 11 Cupid Recks Not Among earth1s fair ones we pick and choo s e , This one for intellect, that for wit - But Love does not enquire whom his arrows hit, Nor upon whom to ca st his noose! To Irene - Aged Six Irene, you bring from sunny Greece A nature all inclined to "pe a ce 1¡ Just as your narne implies. Beauty dwells upon your fa ce , You move with vibrant strength and gr a ce , And wisdom lights your e ye s , Whence is deri ved that extra sen se, That quick and sure intelligence Which colors all you do? Your roots reach long into the pa st - Do racial qualities still last? Is the Greek genius true? Imagination still can trace, In classic features of your fa c e , The beauty that was Greece. In all things to be moderate Is in you such a ruling trait As Plato could r el ea s e , To aid you in your upward way Is but a rightful debt to pay, Which the world owes To the Greek mind, which ever sought, And found by concentrated thought , Light where the spirit glows. Poetry Greatness inhabits poetry, so it s e ern s , Not by strange meter s or enraptured d r earn s , But lending luminosity to simple themes. O Come to Me, My Love The wind is sighing: "0 come to me, my love, While in the west the day is dying And clouds are lit with gold above l " The twilight birds are calling And laughs the distant Ioon, And now refreshing dew is falling In the shadow of the rrioon, O come to me, my Iove] For the night is not complete Save as thy beauty With the beauty of the stars doth meet. Joy Versus Happiness Like dawn and sunset colors Happiness is transitory - But joy is as abiding as the air we breathe. Happiness is ephemeral; It is like the morning dew, Which when dissapated by the glare of day Is as if it had never been. But joy is as constant as Nature1s rythmic pulse. Happiness is a gift at times bestowed By the benevolence of God . But joy is our own victory over life. To the Sanbo rris , (Proprietors of Mountain View House, North Woodstock, N. H.) Yea r s, treat them gently as they treat their guest. Life is a car avans e r aí , at best - A Golden Inn where friend encounters friend, And celebra tes that tie to journey' s erid, The First Letter Your letter charged with radiant love is here, The first received since we were forced to part. Its very penstrokes fill my soul with ch e e r , Its words electrify my yearning h e a r t, A joy so great could not in normal peace Be ruminated, as one tastes content, Sorne action must the tensing nerves release. And so along th e terraced walk I went. The river pines in the soft summer ní ght, The eres cent moon and the undying stars Whispered to me sorne Island of Delight, Where time and trouble set no irking bar s. And now this view, that with such beauty teems, Dissolves into strange distances that lead Beyond this world, into a land of dreams, Where souls on love' s ambrosia ever feed. You are My Audience You are my audience - You can understand My r aptur e s , my creative dreams. You hold my hand While r ag e s the daemonic force That brings fruition where abundance teems. The world as yet is little keen To listen to my songs. It goes its somber ways And gives to Ca e s a r what to him belongs. It has no time to pause and j oy In scent a nd hue of roses at my gate. Its pre ssing duties sweep it swift along - And I am only still an oth e r one Amidst the busy pulsing throng. I am only one, to many - But to thee, belové'd, all. This is my joy and inspiration. This is the hopeful call Of Destiny to me, bidding me strive Creatively While faith is still a.Iive , Love K.nows no Limit Lave never can be limited in scope. As sight is nothing if not constant seeing - So lave is nothing if it does not reach To every nook and cranny of our being. Beauty One thing I see quite cl.ea r - That life' s transcendent beauty God holds supremely d ea r , But what can we sa y of duty? The one has eminent dorn aí.n, . Is the other an intrusion? And if we can not both r etaíri, Which wins in the confusion? It well may be the cosmic plan To unite one with the other; And only in the mind of man Is duty any bother. On a Sunset Hill Life struggles, forges ahead somehow. Earth is sore-furrowed with the plough; Harvests are yielded only to delve and toil; What we would gain, we scatter all to wi n] We strive, we sweat in daily work and moil, And when we seek to bring our harvests in, The joy they give is never sweet enow. But in a mom ent, on a sunset hill By a thrush- choraled thicket crowned, Life discovers how it can stand still - All cares, all sorrows drowned; While Earth and Heaven the charmed senses fi Il , And Eternity stands close a r ound , Discarnate Lave Shelley, in a letter to his friend Gisborne, wrote: 11! think one is always in lave with something or other; th e error - and I confess it is not easy far spirits cased in flesh and blood to avoid it - consists in seek- ing in a mortal image the likeness of what is perhaps eternal. 11 It is no t earthly lave the poet seek.s, But a brief foretaste of the lave divine - That tender passion that invites and heals Hearts that in bitter loneliness repine. Where such compassion flows in human f r arn e , Th e poet hastens to absorb and give That ecstasy which union can impart To all that breathe and warmly move and live. It is this Spirit that encompasses The planet, far its paradisal good, To move each being into ha rrnony With the celestial, universal mood. The poet brings to all this human love Intuitive power of sight And seeing far beyond the multitude Discovers Love's more deeply hid delight. Love Flew with Ti red Wing s Young lave, she flew with tired wings Burdened with pas sions Is weight; Till wearily she let passion fall - Oh! Then she rose to heaven1s gate , Young Love Our love was born amidst the April bud s , And grew like them to flower Beneath the aun, Ah, radiant days! When all the earth burned with the spring's caress, And beauty reigned on every heath and hí Il , So faí'nt at fir st the life That trembled on ea ch bush and tree, Scarcely could Hope itself foresee The glorious growth of leaf and blossom. And love, beneath the guise of friendship, Grew likewise swiftly to its flower of faith And made an Eden where our hearts could dwell. The first smile that trembled on your lips Was like the stir oí Nature in her spring. And the first look, full orbed, That flashed from soul to soul - Was like the blue oí April skies, Giving a hint oí Summer's pa r adí s e , Only a Spring-time idyll? Ah, then bid Spring forever stay! That you may still smile on , And I may dr e arn , Until life's fateful final day, Why Wake I with Such Joy? Why wake I with such joy? Thy heart indeed to my heart must have spoken; And in the silence of the night Exchanged love' s token. Daylight is d e ce i ví ng , But in the Spirit world All secrets are unveí.Ied , All mysteries unfurled. Look in my eyes and say again The words you said beneath the stars! Tell me again th e spirit cannot stay A prisoner behind its earthly bar s. I Drink I