University of Virginia Library


30

GOD'S MAJESTY

I look upon the budding tree;
I watch its leaves expand;
And through it all, O God, I see,
The marvel of Thy hand.
And all my soul in worship sings,
O praise the Lord, the King of Kings!
I look upon this mortal frame
So wonderfully made;
I note each perfect vein and nerve
And I am sore afraid;
I tremble, God, at thought of Thee
So awful in Thy Majesty.
I look upon the mighty sun,
Upon the humble flower;
In both, O great and heavenly One,
I read Thy wondrous power;
And in an ecstasy I raise
A song of thankfulness and praise.
I look upon the lightnings flash;
I see the rain drops fall;
I listen to the thunders crash,
And find Thee in it all;
In earth and sky, and sea and air,
Thou, O my God, art everywhere.

DEPARTED

Love reigned King in my heart one day,
Reigned with his courtiers three—
Belief unspoken, Trust unbroken,
And Faith as deep as the sea.

31

And I cried in sweet pain, “Oh long may they reign,
And my heart be their kingdom alway.”
But the Courtier's Belief slipped down from his throne
And died at the feet of King Love.
I saw him falling, all vainly calling
To the King and the Courtiers above.
And he struggled with death and he labored for breath,
Till he died with a heart-broken moan.
“But the King and his two noble courtiers still reign,
And shall reign forever,” I said;
But lo, on the morrow, I wept in keen sorrow,
For Trust in his beauty lay dead.
And I buried him low, and I said, “Now I know
How to value the two who remain.”
But Faith drooped and died; and Love sat alone,
And he pined for the ones who were dead;
A king without reason he reigned for a season
But his strength and his glory had fled.
And no pain stirred my breast and I said, “It is best,”
When he tottered and fell from his throne.

HEART'S EASE

Give me work for my hands to do,
Whenever I have a grief;
There's no other balm so good I ween
For a wounded Heart's relief.
And give me something to think about,
Something beside my pain;
And let me labor throughout the day
With a busy hand and brain.
From the flush of morn till the gloom of night
With never a time to weep;
And then in the gloaming let me turn
Like a weary child to sleep.

54

STARS

Astronomers may gaze the heavens o'er,
Discovering wonders, great perhaps and true—
That stars are worlds and peopled like our own;
But I shall never think as these men do.

55

I shall believe them little shining things,
Fashioned from heavenly ore and filled with light;
And to the skies above so smoothly blue
An angel comes and nails them every night.
And I have seen him. You, no doubt, would think
A white cloud sailed across the heaven's blue;
But as I watched the feathery thing, it was
An angel nailing up the stars I knew.
And all night long they shine for us below,
Shine in pale splendor till the mighty sun
Wakes up again. And then the angel comes
And gathers in his treasures one by one.
How sweet the task; and when this life is done
And I have joined the angel band on high,
Of all that throng, Oh, may it be my task
To nail the stars upon the evening sky.

63

SOMEBODY SWEET

A robin up in the linden tree,
Merrily sings this lay:
“Somebody Sweet is three years old,
Three years old to-day.”
Somebody's bright blue eyes look up,
Through tangled curls of gold,
And two red lips unclose to say,
“To-day I am free years old.”
Clouds were over the sky this morn,
But now they are sailing away;
Clouds could never obscure the sun
On Somebody Sweet's birthday.
Bluest of skies and greenest of trees,
Sunlight and birds and flowers,
These are Nature's birthday gifts
To this sweet pet of ours.
The pantry is brimming with cakes and creams
For Somebody's birthday ball.
Papa and mamma bring their gifts
But their love is better than all.
Ribbons and sashes and dainty robes,
Gifts of silver and gold
Will fade and rust as the days go by,
But their hearts will not grow cold.
Then laugh in the sunlight, Somebody Sweet,
Little flower of June;
You have nothing to do with care,
For life is in perfect tune.
Loving hearts and sheltering arms
Shall keep old care away
For many a year from Somebody Sweet,
Who is three years old to-day.

83

[Speak for me, friend, whose lips are ever ready]

Speak for me, friend, whose lips are ever ready
With chosen words, to voice another's thought;
My shaken heart would make my tones unsteady;
Speak thou the words I ought.
Say that the love I give in lavish fashion,
To all God's living creatures everywhere,
Pervades me with a deep and holy passion,
A wordless, grateful prayer.
Say that the gifts I may have used too lightly,
As children toss rare gems in careless mirth,
From this glad hour, henceforth shall shine more brightly
And prove their honest worth.
Say that my life shall be one grand endeavor
To reach a nobler womanhood's fair height;
Say how my earnest aim is to forever
Be worthy of this night.

161

GRANITE BAY

At Granite Bay, such beauty lies,
In rocks, in waters and in skies,
As poets dream of Paradise.
The rocks that clasp fair Granite Bay
First saw her charms at break of day
And flushed to pink from somber gray.
To guard this bay from rude alarms
And shelter her from all that harms
Great trees reach out protecting arms.
Down to the very water's edge,
Between the granite rocks they wedge,
And watch in silence from each ledge.
Defending points and islands stand
And reefs of rocks run out from land,
To keep rude billows well in hand.
The river and the bay are friends;
One slender arm the river bends
And all her anchored boats defends.

162

So much one island loves her grace,
He fronts all dangers in his place,
To shield the beauty of her face.
Loved by the forest and the shore,
While sun and moon, and skies adore,
The strong rocks hold her evermore.
At Granite Bay the wild winds rest;
The sunlight is her welcome guest;
The moon goes mad upon her breast.
Not here is heard the sea gulls' scream.
They come, but only come to dream:
Far out at sea their sorrows seem.
At Granite Bay, far out at sea
My cares and troubles seem to me;
Love, joy and hope remain, these three.
Though forth my wandering footsteps stray,
To realms and regions far away,
My heart dwells here, in Granite Bay.

210

LINCOLN

When God created this good world
A few stupendous peaks were hurled
From His strong hand, and they remain,
The wonder of the level plain.
But these colossal heights are rare,
While shifting sands are everywhere.
So with the race. The centuries pass,
And nations fall like leaves of grass.
They die—forgotten and unsung,
While straight from God some souls are flung
To live, immortal and sublime.
So lives great Lincoln for all time.

211

JAMAICA

The fairest Island in the seas,
The darling of the Sun;
Her friends abide on every side
But in her heart dwells one
Who loves her for her own dear sake,
Blake, Blake, Blake.
He decked her with colossal gifts
And flung them at her feet;
He showed her worth to all the earth
In splendid bridge and street;
Then let his name the echoes wake.
Blake, Blake, Blake.

212

[A radiant soul with genius bright]

A radiant soul with genius bright
Now lends to other realms delight;
Let Heaven be glad, let earth rejoice
Since unto us was left his voice.

213

ON AVON'S BREAST

One day when England's June was at its best
I saw a stately and imperious swan
Floating on Avon's fair, untroubled breast.
Sudden it seemed as if all strife had gone
Out of the world; all discord, all unrest.
The sorrows and the sinnings of the race
Faded away like nightmares in the dawn:
All heaven was one blue background for the grace
Of Avon's beautiful, slow moving swan
And earth held nothing mean or commonplace.
Life seemed no longer to be hurrying on
With unbecoming haste, but softly trod
As one who reads in emerald leaf, no lawn,
Or crimson rose, a message straight from God.
On Avon's breast I saw a stately swan.

220

THE ENGLISHMAN

Born in the flesh and bred in the bone,
Some of us harbor still
A New World pride: and we flaunt or hide
The Spirit of Bunker Hill.
We claim our place as a separate race
Or a self-created clan:
Till there comes a day, when we like to say
“We are kin of the Englishman.”
For under the front that seems so cold
And the voice that is wont to storm,
We are certain to find a big broad mind
And a heart that is soft—and warm.
He carries his woes in a lordly way,
As only the great souls can:
And it makes us glad when in truth we say
“We are kin of the Englishman.”
He slams his door in the face of the world,
If he thinks the world too bold:
He will even curse: but he opens his purse
To the poor, and the sick and the old.
He is slow in giving to woman the vote,
And slow to pick up her fan:
But he GIVES HER ROOM IN THE HOUR OF DOOM
And DIES—LIKE AN Englishman!

226

ALL IN A COACH AND FOUR

The quality folk went riding along
All in a Coach and Four—
And pretty Annette, in a calico gown
(Bringing her marketing things from town)

227

Stopped short with her Sunday store,
And wondered if ever it would betide
That she, in a long-plumed hat, would ride
Away in a Coach and Four.
A lord there was—oh a lonely soul,
There in the Coach and Four,
His years were young, but his heart was old
And he hated his coaches and hated his gold,
(Those things which we all adore)
And he thought how sweet it would be to trudge
Along with the fair little country drudge
And away from his Coach and Four.
So back he rode the very next day
All in his Coach and Four,
And he went each day, whether dry or wet,
Until he married the sweet Annette
(In spite of her lack of lore).
But they didn't trudge off on foot together
For he bought her a hat with a long, long feather
And they rode in the Coach and Four.
Now a thing like this could happen we know
All in a Coach and Four,
But the fact of it is, 'twixt me and you,
There isn't a word of this jingle true
(Pardon, I do implore);
It is only a foolish and fanciful song
That came to me as I rode along
All in a Coach and Four.

255

THOUGHTS ON LEAVING JAPAN

A changing medley of insistent sounds,
Like broken airs played on a samisen,
Pursues me, as the waves blot out the shore.
The trot of wooden heels; the warning cry
Of patient runners; laughter and strange words
Of children, children, children everywhere:
The clap of reverent hands before some shrine;
And over all the haunting temple bells,
Waking, in silent chambers of the soul,
Dim memories of long-forgotten lives.
But oh! the sorrow of the undertone;
The wail of hopeless weeping in the dawn
From lips that smiled through gilded bars at night.
Brave little people of large aims, you bow
Too often and too low before the Past;
You sit too long in worship of the dead.
Yet have you risen, open-eyed, to greet
The great material Present. Now salute
The greater Future, blazing its bold trail
Through old traditions. Leave your dead to sleep
In quiet peace with God. Let your concern
Be with the living, and the yet unborn;

256

Bestow on them your thoughts, and waste no time
In costly honors to insensate dust.
Unlock the doors of usefulness, and lead
Your lovely daughters forth to larger fields,
Away from jungles of the ancient sin.
For oh! the sorrow of that undertone,
The wail of hopeless weeping in the dawn
From lips that smiled through gilded bars at night.

258

THE DIABUTSU

Long have I searched cathedral, shrine and hall,
To find an image from the hand of art
That gave the full expression, not a part,
Of that ecstatic peace which follows all
Life's pain and passion. Strange it should befall
That outer emblem of the inner heart
Was waiting far beyond the great world's mart—
Immortal answer to the mortal call.
Unknown the artist; vaguely known his creed!
But the bronze wonder of his work sufficed
To lift me to the heights his faith had trod.

259

For one rich moment, opulent indeed,
I walked with Krishna, Buddha and the Christ,
And felt the full serenity of God.

286

KAIULANI

Dreaming of thrones she grew from child to maid,
While under royal palms soft fountains played.
She saw herself in Time's appointed hour
Ruling her kingdom by love's potent power,
Her radiant youth imperially arrayed
Where tropic suns were tempered by sweet shade,
Protecting love her pleasant pathway laid,
And there she dwelt, a Princess in her bower
Dreaming of thrones.
Marauding changes brutally invade
Her Island home; and yet Time's hand is stayed.
Her name has left the fragrance of a flower;
And in the regal state that was her dower
She sleeps in beauteous youth that cannot fade
Dreaming of thrones.

299

AT THE BORO BOEDOR

Watching the dawn upon its turrets break
(New beauties leaping to each ray of light),
Methought I heard Christ calling (as one might
Call to an older brother): “Buddha, wake!
Come toil with me. From thy calm eyelids shake
The dreams of ages; and behold the sight
Of earth still sunk in ignorance and night.
I took thy labor—now thy portion take.
“Too vast the effort for one Avatar,
My brave disciples are not overwise,
Our kindred creeds they do not understand;
My cross they worship, yet thy temples mar,
Dear brother Buddha, from Nirvana rise,
And let us work together, hand in hand.”

343

THE FINISH

Out of that wonderful world where God is,
The Lords of Karma the path have shown.
And given us lessons to learn in bodies—
Oh, many the bodies our souls have known!

344

In gem, and blossom, and sentient being.
In dull cave dweller and thinking man.
All things knowing, and feeling, and seeing—
This is the purpose and this the plan.
Forms are fashioned in wide world places
From flame and ether and common clay;
While egos wait in the high star spaces
Till the call shall come, which they must obey.
Oh, never a wish or a hope lies hidden
Of good or evil in any heart.
But back to earth shall the soul be bidden
To live out its longing, and play its part.
Grief and pleasure and joy and sorrow,
Out of old sowings we gather them all—
And the seed of to-day we shall harvest to-morrow,
When our souls come back at the karmic call.
Over and over the lesson learning,
Till, letter perfect, and meaning clear—
Back on the spiral pathway turning
We carry the knowledge we gathered here.
The thought of that last journey back to Him
When there is no more longing or desire
For anything but God left in my soul,
Shines in the distance like a great white flame.
I think the way will lead through golden clouds
Skirting the shores of seas of amethyst!
And winding gently upward; past old worlds,
Where body after body was outlived,
Past Hells and Heavens, where I had my day
With comrade Spirits from the lesser spheres
And paid my penalty for every sin
And reaped reward for every worthy act:
Past Realms Celestial and their singing hosts
(Where once I chanted with the cherubim)
Out into perfect silence. Suddenly
An all enveloping vast consciousness
Of long, long journeys finished: one more turn
Then glory, glory, glory infinite
And selfhood lost in being one with God.
The ray once more absorbed into the Sun.
The cycle done.

346

YOU PROMISED ME

All holy books of earth, all churches and all creeds,
Are based on spirit miracles.
Moses, Elias, Matthew, Mark and John,
Paul and Cornelius, Buddha, Swedenborg,
All talked with Angels, Yea, and many more.
That was a mighty promise that you made me:—not once,
But many a time,
Whenever we discussed the topic death—
You promised me that were such things possible
In God's vast Universe,
You would send back a message to my listening soul,
Now am I listening with bated breath.
Always on earth you kept you promises. Why! never once
Through all the years, the wonderful great years
We walked together
Did you forego your word and break a pledge
However trivial its purpose.
Surely that habit of a loyal mind endures;
Surely that soul of yours
Has not been changed so utterly because it laid aside
The body which had died—
That it forgets a solemn promise made to me
Not once, but many a time.
Why! such forgetfulness would be a crime
Against love, faith and hope, the precious three.
It could not be.
So am I waiting, watching—in the light—and listening in the dark—
For any sight, or sound you may have sent:
So do I lean and hark—
Night in, day out—

347

Nor will I let my starved and eager spirit doubt
Or sink in discontent
Because no answer comes.
You promised me: some day, some way
Will open for you, dear, to keep your word.
So many eyes have seen—so many ears have heard.
Moses, Elias, Matthew, Mark and John—
Paul and Cornelius, Buddha, Swedenborg—
All talked with Angels.
Science, which once denied, now patiently investigates.
I do not seek alone.
And I will knock upon the door of heaven
And shake God's window with the hands of prayer,
Asking for those old Angels, wise with centuries
Of large experience, to come to you,
Oh my beloved, and to show you how
To keep your promise, made in solemn faith—
To bridge the River Death,
And rend the veil between.
So many ears have heard—so many eyes have seen—
Why not mine own?
I do not seek alone—
You promised me.
Written in California, 1916.

358

[Oh, I am nothing, nothing]

Oh, I am nothing, nothing—
I only can lie at His feet:
A broken and emptied vessel
For the Master's use made meet.
Broken that He may mend me,
Emptied that He may fill:
Teach me, O God in the silence,—
How to be still.

363

DAILY TALKS

So much I miss those daily talks with you,
O my Beloved! Though you answer not,
(In any manner that of old I knew)
Yet will I seek in each familiar spot,
To bring your sympathetic spirit near
Where it may hear
My inmost thoughts, in written words revealed.
Perchance my bleeding heart may thus be healed,
Of that deep wound this silence makes therein.
The world has no harsh sound, no clash, no din
So hard to bear as silence day on day,
And night on night, the while we plead and pray
For some faint echo from the world unseen.
Dear, you have been
A year and three score days lost to my sight,
And to my touch and hearing; and despite
My life-long faith in Heaven's proximity,
And in communion of souls linked by love,

364

Yet do we seem divided by a sea
Across whose still unatlassed waters move
Out-going silent ships, that come not back.
Still do I watch the track
Of that strange midnight craft, whereon you sailed.
Believing love like yours which never failed
On earth to keep its promises will find
Some way to give mine eyes, which now are blind,
Their clearer sight, and to prepare my ear
Its message from the other world to hear.
The while I wait, perchance you, too, wait near,
Attentive, smiling, in the olden way,
Beloved, day by day.

400

[Here is a picture I carry away]

[_]

Lines Written on the Presentation of an American Banner to Camp Rochambeau, by the Marquise de Rochambeau at Tours, France, June, 1, 1918.

Here is a picture I carry away
On memory's wall; a green June day—
A golden sun in an amethyst sky,
And a beautiful banner floating as high
As the lofty spires of the city of Tours,
And a slender Marquise, with a face as pure
As a sculptured Saint; while staunch and true
In new world khaki, and old world blue,
Wearing their medals with modest pride,
Her stalwart body-guard stand at her side.
Simple the picture, but much it may mean
To one who reads into and under the scene.
For there in that opulent hour and weather,
Two Great Republics came closer together;

401

A little nearer came land to land,
Through the magical touch of a woman's hand.
And once again as in long ago
The grand old name of de Rochambeau
Shines forth like a star, for our world to see,
Our Land of the Brave, and our Home of the Free.

ON WITH THE DANCE

We have come over death charged seas, to fight the foes of France;
The foes of France, the foes of earth, the foes of God on High.
Oh think not that because we laugh, because we sing and dance,
We have forgotten this grave fact—to-morrow we may die.
The ocean billows leap and lilt, when tides are at full flow,
But never yet a wave forgot the depths that lay below.
As David danced before the Lord, we dance now in our joy
At being part of this great force for justice and for truth.
Strong as the old Olympian gods that won the siege of Troy!
We glory in our brawn and brain, and in our splendid youth.
We glory in the right to live and use our manhood's dower,
And if need be, the right to die in this stupendous hour.
America holds out her hand to beautiful brave France,
Her friends are ours, her foes are ours. On! On, now with the dance!

412

[For the ceaseless prayer of a soul is heeded]

For the ceaseless prayer of a soul is heeded,
When the prayer asks only for light and faith,
And the faith and the light, and the knowledge needed,
Shall gild with glory the path to death.
Oh heart of the world by sorrow shaken,
Hear ye the message I have to give.
The seal from the lips of the dead is taken,
And they can say to you, “Lo, we live!”