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 | Poems of optimism |  |
29
THE INVISIBLE HELPERS
There are, there are
Invisible Great Helpers of the race.
Across unatlased continents of space,
From star to star.
In answer to some soul's imperious need,
They speed, they speed.
Invisible Great Helpers of the race.
Across unatlased continents of space,
From star to star.
In answer to some soul's imperious need,
They speed, they speed.
When the earth-loving young are forced to stand
Upon the border of the Unknown Land,
They come, they come—those angels who have trod
The altitudes of God,
And to the trembling heart
Their strength impart.
Have you not seen the delicate young maid,
Filled with the joy of life in her fair dawn,
Look in the face of death, all unafraid,
And smilingly pass on?
Upon the border of the Unknown Land,
They come, they come—those angels who have trod
The altitudes of God,
And to the trembling heart
Their strength impart.
Have you not seen the delicate young maid,
Filled with the joy of life in her fair dawn,
Look in the face of death, all unafraid,
And smilingly pass on?
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This is not human strength; not even faith
Has such large confidence in such an hour.
It is a power
Supplied by beings who have conquered death.
Floating from sphere to sphere
They hover near
The souls that need the courage they can give.
Has such large confidence in such an hour.
It is a power
Supplied by beings who have conquered death.
Floating from sphere to sphere
They hover near
The souls that need the courage they can give.
This is no vision of a dreamer's mind.
Though we are blind
They live, they live,
Filling all space—
Invisible Great Helpers of the race.
Though we are blind
They live, they live,
Filling all space—
Invisible Great Helpers of the race.
31
TO THE WOMEN OF AUSTRALIA
A toast to the splendid daughters
Of the New World over the waters,
A world that is great as new;
Daughters of brave old races,
Daughters of heights and spaces,
Broad seas and broad earth places—
Hail to your land and you!
Of the New World over the waters,
A world that is great as new;
Daughters of brave old races,
Daughters of heights and spaces,
Broad seas and broad earth places—
Hail to your land and you!
The sun and the winds have fed you;
The width of your world has led you
Out into the larger view;
Strong with a strength that is tender,
Bright with a primal splendour,
Homage and praise we render—
Hail to your land and you!
The width of your world has led you
Out into the larger view;
Strong with a strength that is tender,
Bright with a primal splendour,
Homage and praise we render—
Hail to your land and you!
Sisters and daughters and mothers,
Standing abreast with your brothers,
Working for things that are true;
Thinking and doing and daring,
Giving, receiving, and sharing,
Earning the crowns you are wearing—
Hail to your land and you!
Standing abreast with your brothers,
Working for things that are true;
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Giving, receiving, and sharing,
Earning the crowns you are wearing—
Hail to your land and you!
37
A SUCCESSFUL MAN
There was a man who killed a loving maid
In some mad mood of passion; and he paid
The price, upon a scaffold. Now his name
Stands only as a synonym for shame.
There was another man, who took to wife
A loving woman. She was full of life,
Of hope, and aspirations; and her pride
Clothed her like some rich mantle.
In some mad mood of passion; and he paid
The price, upon a scaffold. Now his name
Stands only as a synonym for shame.
There was another man, who took to wife
A loving woman. She was full of life,
Of hope, and aspirations; and her pride
Clothed her like some rich mantle.
First, the wide
Glad stream of life that through her veins had sway
He dammed by rocks, cast in it, day by day.
Her flag of hope, flung gaily to the world,
He placed half mast, and then hauled down, and furled.
The aspirations, breathing in each word,
By subtle ridicule, were made absurd:
The delicate fine mantle of her pride,
With rude unfeeling hands, was wrenched aside:
And by mean avarice, or vulgar show,
Her quivering woman's heart was made to know
That she was but a chattel, bought to fill
Whatever niche might please the buyer's will.
Glad stream of life that through her veins had sway
He dammed by rocks, cast in it, day by day.
Her flag of hope, flung gaily to the world,
He placed half mast, and then hauled down, and furled.
The aspirations, breathing in each word,
By subtle ridicule, were made absurd:
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With rude unfeeling hands, was wrenched aside:
And by mean avarice, or vulgar show,
Her quivering woman's heart was made to know
That she was but a chattel, bought to fill
Whatever niche might please the buyer's will.
So she was murdered, while the slow years went.
And her assassin, honoured, opulent,
Lived with no punishment, or social ban!
‘A good provider, a successful man.’
And her assassin, honoured, opulent,
Lived with no punishment, or social ban!
‘A good provider, a successful man.’
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TO THE TEACHERS OF THE YOUNG
How large thy task, O teacher of the young,To take the ravelled threads by parents flung
With careless hands, and through consummate care
To weave a fabric, fine and firm and fair.
God's uncompleted work is thine to do—
Be brave and true!
47
BEAUTY MAKING
Methinks there is no greater work in lifeThan making beauty. Can the mind conceive
One little corner in celestial realms
Unbeautiful, or dull or commonplace?
Or picture ugly angels, illy clad?
Beauty and splendour, opulence and joy,
Are attributes of God and His domain,
And so are worth and virtue. But why preach
Of virtue only to the sons of men,
Ignoring beauty, till they think it sin?
Why, if each dweller on this little globe
Could know the sacred meaning of that word
And understand its deep significance,
Men's thoughts would form in beauty, till their dreams
Of heaven would find expression in their lives,
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Godlike, befitting such a fair estate.
Let us be done with what is only good,
Demanding here and now the beautiful;
Lest, with the mind and eye on earth untrained,
We shall be ill at ease when heaven is gained.
50
THE LITTLE GO-CART
It was long, long ago that a soul like a flower
Unfolded, and blossomed, and passed in an hour.
It was long, long ago; and the memory seems
Like the pleasures and sorrows that come in our dreams.
Unfolded, and blossomed, and passed in an hour.
It was long, long ago; and the memory seems
Like the pleasures and sorrows that come in our dreams.
The kind years have crowned me with many a joy
Since the going away of my wee little boy;
Each one as it passed me has stooped with a kiss,
And left some delight—knowing one thing I miss.
Since the going away of my wee little boy;
Each one as it passed me has stooped with a kiss,
And left some delight—knowing one thing I miss.
But when in the park or the street, all elate
A baby I see in his carriage of state,
As proud as a king, in his little go-cart—
I feel all the mother-love stir in my heart!
A baby I see in his carriage of state,
As proud as a king, in his little go-cart—
I feel all the mother-love stir in my heart!
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And I seem to be back in that long-vanished May;
And the baby, who came but to hurry away
In the little white hearse, is not dead, but alive,
And out in his little go-cart for a drive.
And the baby, who came but to hurry away
In the little white hearse, is not dead, but alive,
And out in his little go-cart for a drive.
I whisper a prayer as he rides down the street,
And my thoughts follow after him, tender and sweet;
For I know, by a law that is vast and divine,
(Though I know not his name) that the baby is mine!
And my thoughts follow after him, tender and sweet;
For I know, by a law that is vast and divine,
(Though I know not his name) that the baby is mine!
72
BEHOLD THE EARTH
Behold the earth swung in among the starsFit home for gods if men were only kind—
Do thou thy part to shape it to those ends,
By shaping thine own life to perfectness.
Seek nothing for thyself or thine own kin
That robs another of one hope or joy,
Let no man toil in poverty and pain
To give thee unearned luxury and ease.
Feed not the hungry servitor with stones,
That idle guests may fatten on thy bread.
Look for the good in stranger and in foe,
Nor save thy praises for the cherished few;
And let the weakest sinner find in thee
An impetus to reach receding heights.
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Fit home for gods; wake thou the God within
And by the broad example of thy love
Communicate Omnipotence to men.
All men are unawakened gods: be thine
The voice to rouse them from unhappy sleep.
96
THE LAND OF THE GONE-AWAY-SOULS
Oh! that is a beautiful land I wis,
The land of the Gone-Away Souls.
Yes, a lovelier region by far than this
(Though this is a world most fair),
The goodliest goal of all good goals,
Else why do our friends stay there?
I walk in a world that is sweet with friends,
And earth I have ever held dear;
Yes, love with duty and beauty blends,
To render the earth plane bright.
But faster and faster, year on year
My comrades hurry from sight.
The land of the Gone-Away Souls.
Yes, a lovelier region by far than this
(Though this is a world most fair),
The goodliest goal of all good goals,
Else why do our friends stay there?
I walk in a world that is sweet with friends,
And earth I have ever held dear;
Yes, love with duty and beauty blends,
To render the earth plane bright.
But faster and faster, year on year
My comrades hurry from sight.
They hurry away to the Over-There,
And few of them say Farewell.
Yes, they go away with a secret air
As if on a secret quest.
And they come not back to the earth to tell
Why that land seems the best.
And few of them say Farewell.
Yes, they go away with a secret air
As if on a secret quest.
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Why that land seems the best.
Messages come from the mystic sphere,
But few know the code of that land;
Yes, many the message, but few who hear
In the din of the world below,
Or hearing the message, can understand
Those truths which we long to know.
But few know the code of that land;
Yes, many the message, but few who hear
In the din of the world below,
Or hearing the message, can understand
Those truths which we long to know.
But it must be the goal of all good goals,
And I think of it more and more,
Yes I think of that land of the Gone-Away-Souls
And its growing host of friends
Who will hail my bark when it touches shore
Where the last brief journey ends.
And I think of it more and more,
Yes I think of that land of the Gone-Away-Souls
And its growing host of friends
Who will hail my bark when it touches shore
Where the last brief journey ends.
98
THE HARP'S SONG
All day, all day in a calm like death
The harp hung waiting the sea wind's breath.
The harp hung waiting the sea wind's breath.
When the western sky flushed red with shame
At the sun's bold kiss, the sea wind came.
At the sun's bold kiss, the sea wind came.
Said the harp to the breeze, Oh, breathe as soft
As the ring-dove cooes from its nest aloft.
As the ring-dove cooes from its nest aloft.
I am full of a song that mothers croon
When their wee ones tire of their play at noon.
When their wee ones tire of their play at noon.
Though a harp may feel 'tis a silent thing
Till the breeze arises and bids it sing.
Till the breeze arises and bids it sing.
Said the wind to the harp, Nay, sing for me
The wail of the dead that are lost at sea.
The wail of the dead that are lost at sea.
I caught their cry as I came along,
And I hurried to find you and teach you the song.
And I hurried to find you and teach you the song.
Oh, the heart is the harp, and love is the breeze,
And the song is ever what love may please.
And the song is ever what love may please.
99
THE PENDULUM
[_]
[In Edgar Allan Poe's story, ‘The Pit and the Pendulum,’ the victim is bound hand and foot, face upturned to a huge, knife-edged pendulum which swings back and forth across his body, the blade dropping closer to his heart at each swing.]
Bound hand and foot in the pit I lie,
And the wall about me is strong and high;
Stronger and higher it grows each day,
With maximum labour and minimum pay;
And there is no ladder whereon to climb
To a fairer world and a brighter time.
There is no ladder, there is no rope,
But the devil of greed has given a hope.
He swings before me the pendulum—Vice;
I know its purpose and know its price,
And the world's good people all know it, too,
And much they chatter and little they do.
I have sent up my cry to the hosts of men
Over and over and over again:
But should I cry once to the devil, ah, he
Would hurry to answer and set me free.
For Virtue to Virtue must ever call thrice,
But once brings an answer when Virtue calls Vice.
And the wall about me is strong and high;
Stronger and higher it grows each day,
With maximum labour and minimum pay;
And there is no ladder whereon to climb
To a fairer world and a brighter time.
There is no ladder, there is no rope,
But the devil of greed has given a hope.
He swings before me the pendulum—Vice;
I know its purpose and know its price,
And the world's good people all know it, too,
And much they chatter and little they do.
I have sent up my cry to the hosts of men
Over and over and over again:
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Would hurry to answer and set me free.
For Virtue to Virtue must ever call thrice,
But once brings an answer when Virtue calls Vice.
Bound hand and foot in the pit I lie
While the pendulum swings and the days go by.
While the pendulum swings and the days go by.
101
AN OLD-FASHIONED TYPE
For ‘Mabel Brown’ I never cared
(My rightful name by birth),
But when the name of Smith I shared,
I seemed to own the earth,
(I wrote it without ‘y’ or ‘e’—
Plain ‘Mrs. Jack Smith’ suited me.)
(My rightful name by birth),
But when the name of Smith I shared,
I seemed to own the earth,
(I wrote it without ‘y’ or ‘e’—
Plain ‘Mrs. Jack Smith’ suited me.)
My happiest hour, as I look back
On times of great content,
Was when folks called me ‘Mrs. Jack,’
Though ‘Mrs. Smith’ was meant.
It was the pleasure of my life
To hear them say: ‘That 's Jack Smith's wife.’
On times of great content,
Was when folks called me ‘Mrs. Jack,’
Though ‘Mrs. Smith’ was meant.
It was the pleasure of my life
To hear them say: ‘That 's Jack Smith's wife.’
One day I joined a club. They said
That I must speak or write.
So I did both. I wrote and read
A speech one fateful night.
It made a hit, but proved, alack,
A death blow to poor ‘Mrs. Jack.’
That I must speak or write.
So I did both. I wrote and read
A speech one fateful night.
It made a hit, but proved, alack,
A death blow to poor ‘Mrs. Jack.’
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As ‘Mrs. Mabel Smith’ I'm known
Throughout my town and State;
My heart feels widowed and alone;
The case is intricate.
Though darling Jack is mine, the same,
I am divorced somehow in name.
Throughout my town and State;
My heart feels widowed and alone;
The case is intricate.
Though darling Jack is mine, the same,
I am divorced somehow in name.
Just ‘Mabel Smith’ I can endure;
It leaves the world in doubt;
But ‘Mrs.’ makes the marriage sure,
Yet leaves the husband out.
It sounds like Reno, or the tomb,
And always fills me full of gloom.
It leaves the world in doubt;
But ‘Mrs.’ makes the marriage sure,
Yet leaves the husband out.
It sounds like Reno, or the tomb,
And always fills me full of gloom.
They say the honours are all mine;
Well, I would trade the pack
For one sweet year in which to shine
Again as ‘Mrs. Jack.’
That gave to life a core, a pith,
Not found by ‘Mrs. Mabel Smith.’
Well, I would trade the pack
For one sweet year in which to shine
Again as ‘Mrs. Jack.’
That gave to life a core, a pith,
Not found by ‘Mrs. Mabel Smith.’
For one suggests the chosen mate,
And all the joy love brings;
And one suggests a delegate
To federated things.
I'm built upon the old-time plan—
I like to supplement a man.
And all the joy love brings;
And one suggests a delegate
To federated things.
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I like to supplement a man.
If on each point of glory's star
My name shone like a pearl,
I'd feel a pleasure greater far
In being ‘Jack Smith's girl.’
It is ridiculous, I know,
But then, you see, I'm fashioned so.
My name shone like a pearl,
I'd feel a pleasure greater far
In being ‘Jack Smith's girl.’
It is ridiculous, I know,
But then, you see, I'm fashioned so.
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THE SWORD
Amidst applauding cheers I won a prize.A cynic watched me, with ironic eyes;
An open foe, in open hatred, sneered;
I cared for neither. Then my friend appeared.
Eager, I listened for his glad ‘Well done.’
But sudden shadow seemed to shroud my sun.
He praised me: yet each slow, unwilling word
Forced from its sheath base Envy's hidden sword,
Two-edged, it wounded me; but, worst of all,
It thrust my friend down from his pedestal,
And showed him as he was—so small, so small.
105
LOVE AND THE SEASONS
SPRING
A sudden softness in the wind;
A glint of song, a-wing;
A fragrant sound that trails behind,
And joy in everything.
A glint of song, a-wing;
A fragrant sound that trails behind,
And joy in everything.
A sudden flush upon the cheek,
The teardrop quick to start;
A hope too delicate to speak,
And heaven within the heart.
The teardrop quick to start;
A hope too delicate to speak,
And heaven within the heart.
SUMMER
A riotous dawn and the sea's great wonder;
The red, red heart of a rose uncurled;
And beauty tearing her veil asunder,
In sight of a swooning world.
The red, red heart of a rose uncurled;
And beauty tearing her veil asunder,
In sight of a swooning world.
A call of the soul, and the senses blended;
The Springtime lost in the glow of the sun,
And two lives rushing, as God intended,
To meet and mingle as one.
The Springtime lost in the glow of the sun,
And two lives rushing, as God intended,
To meet and mingle as one.
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AUTUMN
The world is out in gala dress;
And yet it is not gay.
Its splendour hides a loneliness
For something gone away.
And yet it is not gay.
Its splendour hides a loneliness
For something gone away.
(Laughter and music on the air;
A shower of rice and bloom.
Smiles for the fond departing pair—
And then the empty room.)
A shower of rice and bloom.
Smiles for the fond departing pair—
And then the empty room.)
WINTER
Two trees swayed in the winter wind; and dreamed
The snowflakes falling about them were bees
Singing among the leaves. And they were glad,
Knowing the dream would soon come true.
The snowflakes falling about them were bees
Singing among the leaves. And they were glad,
Knowing the dream would soon come true.
Beside the hearth an aged couple rocked,
And dozed; and dreamed the friends long passed from sight
Were with them once again. They woke and smiled,
Knowing the dream would soon come true.
And dozed; and dreamed the friends long passed from sight
Were with them once again. They woke and smiled,
Knowing the dream would soon come true.
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A NAUGHTY LITTLE COMET
There was once a little comet who lived near the Milky Way!
She loved to wander out at night and jump about and play.
The mother of the comet was a very good old star—
She used to scold her reckless child for venturing out too far;
She told her of the ogre, Sun, who loved on stars to sup,
And who asked no better pastimes than gobbling comets up.
She loved to wander out at night and jump about and play.
The mother of the comet was a very good old star—
She used to scold her reckless child for venturing out too far;
She told her of the ogre, Sun, who loved on stars to sup,
And who asked no better pastimes than gobbling comets up.
But instead of growing cautious and of showing proper fear,
The foolish little comet edged up near, and near, and near.
She switched her saucy tail along right where the Sun could see,
And flirted with old Mars and was bold as bold could be.
She laughed to scorn the quiet stars, who never frisked about;
She said there was no fun in life unless you ventured out.
The foolish little comet edged up near, and near, and near.
She switched her saucy tail along right where the Sun could see,
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She laughed to scorn the quiet stars, who never frisked about;
She said there was no fun in life unless you ventured out.
She liked to make the planets stare, and wished no better mirth
Than just to see the telescopes aimed at her from the Earth.
She wondered how so many stars could mope through nights and days,
And let the sickly faced old moon get all the love and praise.
And as she talked and tossed her head and switched her shining trail,
The staid old mother star grew sad, her cheek grew wan and pale.
Than just to see the telescopes aimed at her from the Earth.
She wondered how so many stars could mope through nights and days,
And let the sickly faced old moon get all the love and praise.
And as she talked and tossed her head and switched her shining trail,
The staid old mother star grew sad, her cheek grew wan and pale.
For she had lived there in the skies a million years or more,
And she had heard gay comets talk in just this way before.
And by and by there came an end to this gay comet's fun—
She went a tiny bit too far—and vanished in the Sun!
No more she swings her shining trail before the whole world's sight,
But quiet stars she laughed to scorn are twinkling every night.
And she had heard gay comets talk in just this way before.
And by and by there came an end to this gay comet's fun—
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No more she swings her shining trail before the whole world's sight,
But quiet stars she laughed to scorn are twinkling every night.
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THE LAST DANCE
WHEN LOVE FOR HIS MAKER AWOKE IN MAN, THE DANCE BEGAN
The wave of the ocean, the leaf of the wood,
In the rhythm of motion proclaim life is good.
The stars are all swinging to metres and rhyme,
The planets are singing while suns mark the time.
The moonbeams and rivers float off in a trance,
The Universe quivers—on, on with the dance!
In the rhythm of motion proclaim life is good.
The stars are all swinging to metres and rhyme,
The planets are singing while suns mark the time.
The moonbeams and rivers float off in a trance,
The Universe quivers—on, on with the dance!
Our partners we pick from the best of the throng
In the ballroom of Life and go lilting along;
We follow our fancy, and choose as we will,
For waltz or for tango or merry quadrille;
But ever one partner is waiting us all
At the end of the programme, to finish the ball.
In the ballroom of Life and go lilting along;
We follow our fancy, and choose as we will,
For waltz or for tango or merry quadrille;
But ever one partner is waiting us all
At the end of the programme, to finish the ball.
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Unasked, and unwelcome, he comes without leave
And calls when he chooses, ‘My dance, I believe?’
And none may refuse him, and none may say no;
When he beckons the dancer, the dancer must go.
You may hate him, and shun him; and yet in life's ball
For the one who lives well 'tis the best dance of all.
And calls when he chooses, ‘My dance, I believe?’
And none may refuse him, and none may say no;
When he beckons the dancer, the dancer must go.
You may hate him, and shun him; and yet in life's ball
For the one who lives well 'tis the best dance of all.
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A VAGABOND MIND
Since early this morning the world has seemed surging
With unworded rhythm, and rhyme without thought.
It may be the Muses take this way of urging
The patience and pains by which poems are wrought.
It may be some singer who passed into glory,
With songs all unfinished, is lingering near
And trying to tell me the rest of the story,
Which I am too dull of perception to hear.
With unworded rhythm, and rhyme without thought.
It may be the Muses take this way of urging
The patience and pains by which poems are wrought.
It may be some singer who passed into glory,
With songs all unfinished, is lingering near
And trying to tell me the rest of the story,
Which I am too dull of perception to hear.
I hear not, I see not; but feel the sweet swinging
And swaying of metre, in sunlight and shade,
The still arch of Space with such music is ringing
As never an audible orchestra made.
The moments glide by me, and each one is dancing;
Aquiver with life is each leaf on the tree,
And out on the ocean is movement entrancing,
As billow with billow goes racing with glee.
And swaying of metre, in sunlight and shade,
The still arch of Space with such music is ringing
As never an audible orchestra made.
The moments glide by me, and each one is dancing;
Aquiver with life is each leaf on the tree,
And out on the ocean is movement entrancing,
As billow with billow goes racing with glee.
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With never a thought that is worthy the saying,
And never a theme to be put into song,
Since early this morning my mind has been straying,
A vagabond thing, with a vagabond throng,
With gay, idle moments, and waves of the ocean,
With winds and with sunbeams, and tree-tops and birds,
It has lilted along in the joy of mere motion,
To songs without music and verse without words.
And never a theme to be put into song,
Since early this morning my mind has been straying,
A vagabond thing, with a vagabond throng,
With gay, idle moments, and waves of the ocean,
With winds and with sunbeams, and tree-tops and birds,
It has lilted along in the joy of mere motion,
To songs without music and verse without words.
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THE SECOND COMING
How will Christ come back again,
How will He be seen, and where,
Where His chosen way?
Will He come in dead of night,
Shining in His robes of light,
Or at dawn of day?
How will He be seen, and where,
Where His chosen way?
Will He come in dead of night,
Shining in His robes of light,
Or at dawn of day?
Will it be at Christmas time,
When the bells are all achime,
That He is re-born?
Or will He return and bring
Wide and wondrous wakening
On some Easter morn?
When the bells are all achime,
That He is re-born?
Or will He return and bring
Wide and wondrous wakening
On some Easter morn?
When will this sad world rejoice,
Listening to that golden voice
Speaking unto men?
Lives there one who yet shall cry
Loud to startled passers-by—
‘Christ has come again?’
Listening to that golden voice
Speaking unto men?
Lives there one who yet shall cry
Loud to startled passers-by—
‘Christ has come again?’
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List the answer—Christ is here!
Seek and you shall find him near—
Dwelling on the earth.
By the world's awakened thought,
This great miracle is wrought,
This the second birth.
Seek and you shall find him near—
Dwelling on the earth.
By the world's awakened thought,
This great miracle is wrought,
This the second birth.
While you wonder where and now
Christ shall come—behold him now,
Patient, loving, meek.
Looking from your neighbour's eyes,
Or in humble toiling guise—
Lo! the Christ you seek.
Christ shall come—behold him now,
Patient, loving, meek.
Looking from your neighbour's eyes,
Or in humble toiling guise—
Lo! the Christ you seek.
Look for him in human hearts,
In the shops, and in the marts,
And beside your hearth.
Search and speak the watchword Love,
And the Christ shall rise and prove
He has come to earth.
In the shops, and in the marts,
And beside your hearth.
Search and speak the watchword Love,
And the Christ shall rise and prove
He has come to earth.
Sorrowful ofttimes is He
That we have not eyes to see,
Have not ears to hear,
As we call to Him afar,
Out beyond some distant star,
While He stands so near.
That we have not eyes to see,
Have not ears to hear,
As we call to Him afar,
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While He stands so near.
Seek Him, seek Him, where He dwells,
Chime the voices of the bells
On the Christmas air.
Christ has come to earth again,
He is in the hearts of men,
Seek and find him there.
Chime the voices of the bells
On the Christmas air.
Christ has come to earth again,
He is in the hearts of men,
Seek and find him there.
| Poems of optimism | |