Sonnets of sorrow and triumph

Methinks high forces were unloosed by God,
At your conception; and from star to star
The Unseen Helpers of the earth-race trod,
Bringing new light from regions fair and far.
So many human lives seem accident:
They do not speak of any purposed plan,
But yours—ah! yours was most divinely meant.
The Lords of Karma called to earth—a Man.

Not one to lead vast armies into war,
Not one intent on any large reform,

But one who makes each day worth living for
To those who walk with him in sun or storm.
Could this be said of all who come to birth,
How peaceful and how wonderful were earth!

FORECAST

THAT DAY

O Heart of mine, through all these perfect days
Whether of white Decembers or green Mays,
There glides a dark thought like a creeping snake,
Or like a black thread which by some mistake
Life has strung through the pearls of happy years—
A thought which borders all my joy with tears.

Some day, some day or you or I, alone,
Must look upon the scenes we two have known,
Must tread the self-same paths we two have trod,
And cry in vain to one who is with God,
To lean down from the silent realms and say,
“I love you,” in the old familiar way.

Some day, and each day, beauteous though it be,
Brings closer that dread hour to you or me.
Fleet-footed joy who hurries time along
Is yet a secret foe who does us wrong.
Speeding us swiftly, though he well doth know
Of yonder pathway where but one may go.

Ay, one will go. To go is sweet, I wis,
Yet God must needs invent some special bliss
To make his Paradise seem very dear
To one who goes, and leaves the other here.
To sever souls so bound by love and time
For any one but God, would be a crime.

Yet death will entertain his own, I think.
To one who stays, life gives the gall to drink.
To one who stays, or be it you or me,
There waits the Garden of Gethsemane.
Oh, dark, inevitable and awful day,
When one of us will go, and one must stay.

October 13th, 1898.

HOW WILL IT BE?

How will it be when one of us alone
Goes on that strange, last journey of the soul,
That voyage on which no comradeship is known?
Will our dear sea sing in the old sweet tone,
Though one sits stricken where its billows roll?
Will whisperings of love be backward blown?

When our united lives are wrenched apart,
And day no more means sweet companionship;
When fervent night, and lovely languorous dawn,
Are only memories to one sad heart,
And but in dreams fond kisses burn the lip,
Dear God, how can this same fair world move on?

February 14th, 1903.

THE LAND BETWEEN

Between the little Here and larger Yonder,
There is a realm (or so one day I read),
Where faithful spirits, love-enchained, may wander,
Till some remembering soul from earth has fled;
Then reunited, they go forth afar
From sphere to sphere, where wondrous angels are.

Not many spirits in that realm are waiting,
Not many pause upon its shores to rest;
For only Love, intense and unabating,
Can hold them from the longer higher quest.
And after grief has wept itself to sleep,
Few hearts on earth their vital memories keep.

Should I pass on across the mystic border,
Let thy love link me to that pallid land.

I would not seek the heavens of finer order
Until thy barque had left the coarser strand.
How desolate such journeyings would be
Though straight to Him, were they not shared by thee!

Wert thou first called (dear God, how could I bear it!)
I should enchain thee with my love, I know.
Not great enough am I, to free thy spirit
From all these olden ties, and bid thee go.
Nor would a soul unselfish as thine own
Forget so soon, and speed to Heaven alone.

On earth we find no joy in ways diverging;
How could we find it in the worlds unseen?
I know old memories in my bosom surging
Would keep thee waiting in that Land between,
Until, together, side by side we trod
A path of stars, in our great search for God.

July 5th, 1907.

INTERLUDE

The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer,
The headstones thicken along the way;
And life grows sadder but love grows stronger
For those who walk with us, day by day.

The tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower,
The courage is lesser to do and dare;
And the tide of joy in the heart runs lower,
And seldom covers the reefs of care.

But all true things in the world seem truer,
And the better things of the earth seem best;
And friends are dearer as friends are fewer,
And love is all as our sun dips west.

Then let us clasp hands as we walk together,
And let us speak softly, in love's sweet tone;
For no man knows, on the morrow, whether
We two pass by, or but one alone.

November, 1909.

SONNETS OF SORROW

1916

[I. Praying for light, and praying all in vain]

Praying for light, and praying all in vain,
Since not one lamp was shining in God's tower;
Praying for strength to bear consuming pain
Yet growing weaker with each passing hour;
Praying for hope the while relentless Fate
Marked out hope's grave, and dug it dark and deep,
My trembling lips at last could formulate
Only a prayer for sleep—forgetting sleep.

That plea was answered. From her silent place
Sleep came and touched me with oblivion:
Yet was that touch robbed of all healing grace:
For when she rose up in the awful dawn
She left but this in answer to my prayer—
New strength to suffer with renewed despair.

[II. I know my heart has always been devout]

I know my heart has always been devout,
And faith burned in me like a clear white flame.
There was no room among my thoughts for doubt.
Though hopes were thwarted and though sorrows came,
God seemed a living Presence, kind and just,
And ever near. Yea, even in great grief
When parents, friends and offspring turned to dust
He stood beside me, refuge and relief.

But when one hideous night you went away
Deaf to my cry and to my pleadings dumb,
You took God with you. Now in vain I pray
And beg Him to return: He does not come:
Nor has He sent one Angel from his horde
To comfort me with some convincing word.

[III. You were so wonderful with quiet faith]

You were so wonderful with quiet faith;
Only the Saints and martyrs of the earth
Held such unalterable high thoughts of death,
As those which filled you from your hour of birth.
And when we were together, many a time,
We felt the Presences of Unseen Guests:
And you saw visions, mystical, sublime,
When forth your spirit went on astral quests.

Yet at the crucial hour when you were called
To leave me here, there was no sign—no sign!
God surely saw me stricken and appalled—
Surely He might have eased such woe as mine.
Oh! fling my failing faith some bit of fuel,
Lest God shall seem or impotent, or cruel!

[IV. My earthly friends, however occupied]

My earthly friends, however occupied,
With their own joys or troubles, came or sent
Some sympathetic message! Each one tried
To soothe the heart by sudden anguish rent.
But from that Higher Realm where you have flown
And from that God we worshipped well and long,
There comes no signal that my need is known—
No spirit whisper bidding me be strong.

God has so many angels, realm on realm
Of varying rank and knowledge and degree:
Could He not lend just one to take the helm
And guide through space a spirit-ship to me?
A thousand human hearts my grief has stirred:
My God, my Robert, why have you no word?

[V. You understood the woman side of me]

You understood the woman side of me;
My vanities you met with smiling lip;
The fabrics that I wore you first must see,
And pass upon them with wise censorship.
You loved things not too sombre or too bright,
But tender toned with colours softly blent;
Yet, when I leaned above you, draped like night,
You were unmindful and indifferent.

One sigh of mine, one tear upon my face
Wrenched your dear heart with sympathetic grief.
Yet, when I held you in that last embrace,
Torn with a torture which found no relief,
You lay and smiled with such a knowing air
Of mighty peace as if you did not care.

[VI. My love, my love, how often in old days]

My love, my love, how often in old days
I cried, “Oh, I would die for you, dear heart!”
But He who planned the parting of our ways
Appointed unto me the harder part.
He cares not greatly for my thanks, I wis,
But in your converse with Him (which must be,
Since that, and only that, accounts for this
Astounding silence between you and me),

Say that from out a life all bruised and broken
In grief too deep for tears to do their share,
My prayers of gratitude are hourly spoken
Because He saved you from the cross I bear.
Such grievous pain, such unrelenting woe—
You never could have borne it, dear, I know.

[VII. This thought I welcome only, of the train]

This thought I welcome only, of the train
That drove joy from its hive within my breast,
Turned honey into gall, turned peace to pain
And sent hope forth upon a bootless quest.
This thought alone brings comfort to my mind,
And so is bidden often to return,
And ease the hurts that hour by hour I find
In sounds that torture and in sights that burn.

Old airs, old scenes, old anniversaries
(Oh, life for us was Love's long carnival)
And I repeat, “I saved you this and this,”
As on each sword of memory I fall.
To save you sorrow was my prayer alway,
But oh, the price, the price I have to pay!

[VIII. At last a dream—at last a dream of you!]

At last a dream—at last a dream of you!
Against the blank black curtain of the night
I saw you stand. 'Twas but a dream, I knew,
And yet my hungry eyes fed on the sight,
My aching arms embraced you, and I cried,
“How good, how good God is to let you come
And bridge the chasm that has seemed so wide!”
You listened smiling, but your lips were dumb.

And then you vanished. All alone I stood
(As evermore I stand, alone, apart,)
Repeating softly, “God was good, so good,
To let me dream of you.” Oh, ravenous heart,
How pitiful, how pitiful it seems
To feed such hunger with but husks of dreams!

[IX. From land to land, from coast to bloody coast]

From land to land, from coast to bloody coast,
Our planet trembles with loud sounds of strife.
The seas are ravaged by a warring host,
The air is filled with menaces to life.
Men talk of nothing but the news of war;
And with the coming of each crimson dawn
Come new calamities and horrors, for
Events are shaped by what minds feed upon.

As in a nightmare, we unheeding hear
That which awake would fill us with affright.
The woes of earth fall dully on mine ear,
Nor am I moved by its appalling plight.
For all these things seem trivial beside
This monstrous fact—one night in May you died.

[X. My sick and suffering heart is newly stricken]

My sick and suffering heart is newly stricken
When Night departs and Dawn adjusts its robe.
As some poor wounded wretch might sink and sicken
Seeing the surgeon bare his shining probe.
The sun was loth this morning to awaken;
It held its radiance back and seemed to wait
As if it knew my joy had all been taken
And one long day would fain abbreviate.

Then in that little pause as if from heaven
This message flashed authoritative, brief:
“What boundless wealth of love to you was given—
How vast the joy whose loss could mean such grief!”
All through the day with lifted brow I went
A pauper now, who once was opulent!

[XI. “What boundless wealth of love!”—the sentence stays]

“What boundless wealth of love!”—the sentence stays
And lends wan lustre to each leaden hour.
I am as one who in bleak autumn days
Recalls the beauty of his rose-wreathed bower.
I am as one who in the desert sands
Must slake his thirst on thoughts of running streams.
Or 'mid the ruins of his palace stands
And reconstructs it with the stuff of dreams.

That boundless wealth of ours! My own, my own,
It could not vanish into nothingness.
God must have made a strong-box of His throne,
And stored it there, our future lives to bless.
Oh, my first words, when death has set me free,
Will be this cry, “The key, dear God, the key!”

[XII. If, till we met, no Maker had existed]

If, till we met, no Maker had existed,
If life was finite and man but a clod,
This flaming love of ours has so persisted
Its very glory would have made a God.
It was too vast for love of man and woman,
Too high for earth, too mighty for the tomb;
It grew up over and beyond ways human,
And sought a garden of perpetual bloom.

Long, long ago, we sensed that garden's beauty,
And talked together of its pure delight.
How is it now you feel no urge of duty,
To help my straining vision gain its sight?
How is it that, although I gaze and hark,
I find but deathly silence—and the dark?

[XIII. We scaled all heights, we probed all depths of passion]

We scaled all heights, we probed all depths of passion;
Soul spoke to soul and flesh thrilled unto flesh.
Our love rose from the senses, lotus fashion,
And bloomed in sun-kissed air and waters fresh.
We sailed our ship through many a stormy ocean,
But came to anchor in a Bay Serene
Where in an exaltation of devotion
We grasped the fullness of what love may mean.

Oh! Was it that we two, again united
Debt free, throughout eternity might go,
That my crushed heart by separation blighted
Was forced the final sacrifice to know?
God needs must make new ecstasies in heaven
To pay for this last anguish He has given!

[XIV. Full many a roadway that we trod was rough]

Full many a roadway that we trod was rough,
And we met foul as well as sunny weather;
Yet not one day did we find long enough
Though three decades we journeyed on together.
Even when shadows on our path were cast
And when with care or grief we were sad-hearted,
Too soon each sunset came, time fled too fast,
And the dear nights of sleep too soon departed.

Now all the moments move with leaden feet,
The hours are weighted with their load of sorrow;
And the once tender nights that were so fleet
Stare through the dark, and dread the coming morrow.
And at each laggard sunset now I say,
“Nearer Death's gate, thank God, by one more day!”

[XV. Loving you so I loved the world entire]

Loving you so I loved the world entire,
Your friends, your kin, yea, all created life,
My heart seemed glowing with a holy fire
And every thought with tenderness was rife.
I sought to lighten sorrows and to teach
The ecstasy of life to every being;
And prayed for greater usefulness to reach
And share my insight with each soul unseeing.

But since you went away from earth with Death
I seem to have no feeling left to give,
Save sharp surprise toward all things that have breath
Which cries in wonderment, “You live! You live!”
Ignoble satisfaction adds this cry,
“To all, to all shall Death come by and by.”

[XVI. Oh, to wake once again with that old joy]

Oh, to wake once again with that old joy,
That consciousness of angels hovering near!
Oh, for a shaft of light that would destroy
This dark despondency, this nameless fear!
My radiant thoughts had never given form
Or substance to those two unbidden things;
Yet in that night of devastating storm,
Bat-like they came on black and brooding wings.

My mind has lost its optimistic course
And sunk in quicksands of despair and gloom,
Nor have my wildest prayers the drawing force
To lift me back to sunlight and to bloom.
Oh, Everlasting Arms, reach out, reach out,
Before I sink in madness, or in doubt!

[XVII. I who have sung so loud of God's great power]

I who have sung so loud of God's great power,
I who have loved Him with unswerving love,
Cry vainly now, hour after torturing hour,
And no response comes from those planes above.
I deemed myself a joyous instrument
Finite in form but infinite in scope;
In life's grand orchestra my tones were blent
Ever in strains of gratitude and hope.

Now as a harp all broken and unstrung
Of which the Heavenly Players have grown weary
And carelessly upon the highway flung
Where vagrant winds may sing a miserere,
I lie with all the music in me dumb, ...
Oh, great Repairer and Attuner, come!

[XVIII. The wise ones tell me that my heart's wild clamour]

The wise ones tell me that my heart's wild clamour
Must change to calm before I feel you near.
While Pain beats on it with its hob-nailed hammer,
How can I find the way to quiet, dear?
I sit down in the silence praying, praying,
“God's Will be done, but give me help at length.”
I wait, but Pain, that mighty hammer swaying,
Deprives the silence of all healing strength.

Then when I turn to action, swift and cruel
Leaps Memory in my path and bids me stand,
And challenges my bleeding heart to duel,
Knowing how I must suffer at its hand.
Oh, my Belovèd, let this conflict cease
And show me how to find the path to peace.

[XIX. Full sixteen thousand million souls are here]

Full sixteen thousand million souls are here
Upon the earth, and yet not one or all
Can rouse my old-time pleasure in this sphere
Or from my shrouded heart remove the pall.
But could I see your face or hear your voice
For one brief moment, dear, or touch your hand
Then would I wake to rapture and rejoice
Though death and devastation filled the land.

I knew I loved you; but life made not plain
How utterly you were my world entire
Until I stood alone and tried in vain
To find diversion, interest, or desire.
Bereft of you, I am of all bereft,
While sixteen thousand million souls are left.

[XX. There always was a longing in your heart]

There always was a longing in your heart
For some large labour that should aid mankind.
Dear, listen to me, let me do my part
And help you now that wondrous work to find.
There is but one great need for all the race—
The need of knowledge to uphold its faith.
Then come, or send some message on through space
That shall convince the world there is no death.

In all God's universe there could not be
A holier task, methinks, for any soul.
Oh, not alone to ease the heart of me,
But to give consolation to the whole
Sick, suffering hordes of earth, stand not aloof
But cleave the silence with the proof—the proof!

[XXI. So many mansions in our Father's house]

So many mansions in our Father's house,
So many paths that lead out onward There,
Perchance when first from slumber we arouse
We must for longer journeyings prepare.
I do recall a time you went before
To build a home on earth for me one day;
And when you passed out through the open door
I did not try to hinder or delay.

But I remember how your messages
Sped over space and made the dull hours glow.
Is there no way to solace me in this
Increasing loneliness that hurts me so—
This silence utter, awful, and profound
Which bruises more than any crash of sound?

[XXII. Wild sorrow in my bosom has been raging]

Wild sorrow in my bosom has been raging—
Wild war has torn the earth and stained the water.
From homes of peace have men gone forth engaging
In bitter conflict and in bloody slaughter.
Women have sent their loved ones out, believing
The way was shown them by God's pointing finger;
They smiled farewell and hid all signs of grieving,
And sped the footsteps that were fain to linger.

For you, belovèd, to whom God has beckoned,
What have I done to help you find the road?
With my own anguish only have I reckoned—
On your dear spirit have I placed my load.
Now will I lift and bear it to the end—
Unto your Father's place ascend, ascend.

RETROSPECTION

UNDERSTANDING

1917

The snowdrops and the crocuses
Bloomed in the olden way:
The stately tulips followed on—
The pansies had their day;
The roses came—and yet the year
Brought neither June nor May.
And now the tiger lilies lift
Their freckled faces high;
And now the sun is blazing down
From out a cloudless sky—
And yet it is not Summertime,
Though Summer days drag by.

His dog looks up the lonely lane—
He knows the reason why.

TIME AND I

Time and I were friends long gone;
Though he was my master
I would say to him each dawn
“Faster, faster, faster!
Somewhere farther down the road
We will find fair love's abode:
He is waiting [illeg.]e, I know—
Let us swifter go!”

Love was waiting there ahead
In his open door.
Once with him, to Time I said
“Slower, slower, slower!
Love and I would be content
If most leisurely you went.”
But Time ever hastened so
He became my foe.

Now I hold Time dear once more
And his favour curry.
And I cry out as of yore,
“Hurry, hurry, hurry!
Love has made a new abode—
I would join him down the road.”
But Time has grown old and slow
And the days lag so.

SEAS, SHIPS AND SHORES

The Inlands of the Middle West
Are far from sounding seas;
And where my early years were spent
Not even running rivers lent
Their music to the breeze.
But there were billowing fields of grain
That ofttimes mocked the green-hued main
When summer decked the leas.

Yet alway in those early years
I felt a sweet unrest;
And deep within the heart of me
There was a longing for the sea:
The reindeer in my breast
Seemed ever eager to set forth,
As reindeers in the snowbound north
Make once their briny quest.

It must have been the voice of Love
That this strange longing stirred:
For when I found the sea one day
It was dear Love that led the way,
And they became one word.
Love was the sea, the sea was Love,
And all life's joy was made thereof,
When once that voice I heard.

Now oceans, islands, sounds and seas
And ports where vessels lie,
And harbours where they sail away
And surging billows decked in spray
Where wide-winged sea-gulls fly,
And beaches where the bathers rove
All, all are properties of Love
With their blue-arching sky.

The glaciers and majestic Alps,
The mountains filled with ore,
The cities with their mighty throngs
Are yours—but unto me belongs

To Love and me, each shore;
Where all the billows of the world
By God's tremendous hand are hurled
And ours is all their store.

We sailed and sailed and sailed again
Our wonder seas of earth:
We sailed to every port and clime,
We laughed at danger and at time,
And life was full of mirth;
And joy was in our sea-girt home
And when we roamed, joy, too, would roam
And bunk beside our berth.

But one May night Love sailed away
Across a Mystic Sea:
I know not why he went alone
To some far harbour all unknown,
Nor how this thing could be
That suddenly he should embark
On that strange vessel in the dark
Without one call to me.

Love left me all the seas of earth
And all their cargoed ships;
And memories within each hold
More precious than a mine of gold.
But joy is in eclipse,
And must be, till I too enroll
On that same ship, and my freed soul
From out the Harbour slips.

And though all seas and ships are mine
By right of Love made so,
Yet when that Craft that came at night
Shall come again for my delight
Is not for me to know.
I only know I cannot fail
To see at last its splendid sail,
And leap on board, and go.

A PRAYER

I Know it cannot be irreverence,
This feeling that I have anent that time
When with my life work finished, I go hence,
Leaving this low plane for the upward climb.
My father God, and Christ my beauteous Brother
Have ever owned the deepest heart of me.
Yet when I journey on, there is one other
I first would meet, and clasp, and hear, and see.

God and His holy Son have host on host
To welcome, and to comfort, and to cheer;
I think They would not mind it, if the most
Belovèd soul They took from me, drew near
To show the way. ... Lord! Up the golden street
Let my love lead me to Thy shining feet.

A THRENODY

Love in the sweet, sweet morning
Of life's long radiant June;
And two hearts beating together
In time with the robin's tune.

Love in the splendid noontide
Of glorious Summer days;
And two hearts growing together
In all life's tenderest ways.

Love as the sun slants westward
While the Autumn woods flame red:
And two hearts bound together
By a passion mixed with dread.

Love in the early evening
As the Winter time draws near:
And one heart breaking, breaking,
Alone in the shadows drear.
Thank God that only twelve months
Are in the longest year!

DRAW ANCHOR

So much of beauty have I seen on earth,
So much to marvel over and admire;
Yet each new sight but bred a new desire
To stray still farther from the quiet hearth.
My hand in yours, we spanned our planet's girth;
From Alpine summits, looked on summits higher;
Saw fierce Stromboli set the night on fire;
In fair Ceylon, saw dawn's exquisite birth.

Now am I stirred with mightier unrest
For longer journeys than of old I knew.
I would set forth upon that final quest—
That Large Adventure which has come to you.
Somewhere you wait to show new worlds to me.
Pilot! draw anchor! let my soul go free!

THE HILLS OF GOD

I

Always your aims for me were large and high:
Your love was generous as the love of heaven.
The best things life could hold you wanted given
Into my keeping. So sweet years went by,
While watchful angels seemed to hover nigh,
And all the blessings for which you had striven
Were showered on me. Then the link was riven.
Was it your own great soul that bade joy die?

Ever you sought perfection for me, dear,
And all that makes for ultimate true gain.
Perchance because your vision was so clear
You understood that only those attain
The Heights Beyond, who walk through valleys here.
Was it for this you left me to such pain?

II

But oh, you did not, could not comprehend
How dark the valley and how long the road,
(Since days are years in sorrow's drear abode)
Or else you had gone nearer to the end
Before you left me. Pain, to be our friend,
Must use a chastening hand but not a goad,
Nor wound us so we cannot lift our load
Up the hard winding pathways that ascend.

I think you must be startled and amazed,
Seeing the blooddrops where my feet have trod.
But I think, too, your opened eyes have gazed
Upon celestial summits, beauteous, broad,
And that you know the trail my soul has blazed
Leads somehow, sometime, to those Hills of God.

NEWS FROM THE FRONT

Detached from life, the women overseas,
Wait only for one thing—news from the front.
The olden joys, and worries, hopes and cares,
Aims and ambitions, which made up their days
Are meaningless and empty. Nothing seems
Of any import but the waited word
From dear ones who have heard the country's call
And answered it, and left vast loneliness
And hunger of the heart in silent homes.

Bravely they do the things that must be done,
And make no protest; but, one wish alone
Fills all their thoughts by day, their dreams by night—
News from the front!

I, too, detached from all that life once meant,
Perform my duties and pursue my tasks

As cheerfully and as bravely as I can:
While like dead leaves on bleak November winds
Old aims, ambitions, interests and desires,
Blow by me. One who heard the call of God
And answered it, left such vast loneliness
And hunger in my heart, that now my life
Has room for only one compelling wish
Which fills my thoughts by day, my dreams by night—
News from the Front!

THE BURNING GHAT

Adown the Ganges, at your side I sat
And floated, musing on each scene and spot:
We heard the grim tale of the Burning Ghat,
We saw the place where widows once were brought
And living, cast upon the funeral pyre.
We shuddered at the story. But, today
I think it was a kind and friendly fire
That took the mourners from their grief away
A little time of terror, and despair,
A few brief tortured moments, then release
From suffering and loneliness and tears.
Oh, my Belovèd! Life gives me to bear
Perpetual pyres, and flames that never cease;
A Burning Ghat of slowly dying years.

“HE WHO DOETH ALL THINGS, DOETH ALL THINGS WELL”

These the words I chanced upon
While my heart seemed breaking
With its loneliness, and loss of the days agone—
Down upon the open wound, aching, aching, aching,
One by one like balm they dropped with a soothing spell—
“He who doeth all things, doeth all things well.”

He who fashioned worlds from space,
He who set in motion
All the planets, systems, suns, giving each its place,
He whose thought conceived and flung forth continent and ocean—

Gave the fragrance to the rose, shaped the tiniest shell—
“He who doeth all things, doeth all things well.”

He who gave me form and breath—
Gave me all my pleasure—
Lord of every Universe, Lord of life and death,
Though he gives me gall to drink now in fullest measure,
Yet the bitter like the sweet from his fountain fell—
“He who doeth all things, doeth all things well.”

He who let his spirit flow,
Into stone and jewel,
Unto all things gave Himself (as above, below,)
Nothing in that Cosmic Mind could be wrong or cruel:

Through earth's discord sounds a voice like a silver bell,
“He who doeth all things, doeth all things well.”

From the mineral to the man
Out from primal sources,
Gathering knowledge all the way to complete the Plan,
Down from God, and back to Him move the spirit Forces—
Shedding light along the path every doubt to quell—
“He who doeth all things, doeth all things well.”

Grief and joy are one to God
Who beholds tomorrow:
We shall see it with his eyes when the Way is trod—
We shall understand the scheme of this life of sorrow;

Every voice that now complains yet this truth shall tell,
“He who doeth all things, doeth all things well.”

TRIUMPHUS

I

At last, at last, the message! definite
As dawn, that tells the night has gone away.
The Silence has grown eloquent with it—
The Silence that, late filled me with dismay,
So dumb it was. Triumphant now I sit
So near to God and you I need not pray
For only prayers of thankfulness were fit
For this estate wherein I dwell to-day.

You live, you love me! You have heard my call
And answered it in your own way. The proof
So satisfies the soul of me, were all
The hosts of earth henceforth to stand aloof
Till I recanted—my reply were this—
“One men call dead has sent me messages.”

II

Oh, my Belovèd! Through these months like years
I know you might have reached me sooner here,
Had I not blurred the trail by storms of tears;
And yet, how could, how could I help it, dear?
Now you have found a way to make God's spheres
Seem very intimate and very near.
And radiant—my lonely path appears,
The light you cast upon it is so clear.

I stand victorious at the longed-for goal
With open vision where I once was blind,
And cry aloud to every suffering soul
“Pray without ceasing—seek, and ye shall find.
Though Science sneer and school and church condemn—
Your dead dwell near—you may commune with them.”

THE END

University of Virginia Library

A MAN R. M. W.