Part 15

My heart finds never the longed-for rest; Its worldly striving, its greed for gold, Chilled and frightened the calm-eyed guest, Who sometimes sought me in days of old; And ever fleeing away from me Is the higher self that I long to be.

ALL MAD

“He is mad as a hare, poor fellow, And should be in chains,” you say. I haven’t a doubt of your statement, But who isn’t mad, I pray? Why, the world is a great asylum, And people are all insane, Gone daft with pleasure or folly, Or crazed with passion and pain.

The infant who shrieks at a shadow, The child with his Santa Claus faith, The woman who worships Dame Fashion, Each man with his notions of death, The miser who hoards up his earnings, The spendthrift who wastes them too soon, The scholar grown blind in his delving, The lover who stares at the moon.

The poet who thinks life a pæan, The cynic who thinks it a fraud, The youth who goes seeking for pleasure, The preacher who dares talk of God, All priests with their creeds and their croaking, All doubters who dare to deny, The gay who find aught to wake laughter, The sad who find aught worth a sigh, Whoever is downcast or solemn, Whoever is gleeful and glad, Are only the dupes of delusions— We are all of us—all of us mad.

HIDDEN GEMS

We know not what lies in us, till we seek; Men dive for pearls—they are not found on shore, The hillsides most unpromising and bleak Do sometimes hide the ore.

Go, dive in the vast ocean of thy mind, O man! far down below the noisy waves, Down in the depths and silence thou mayst find Rare pearls and coral caves.

Sink thou a shaft into the mine of thought; Be patient, like the seekers after gold; Under the rocks and rubbish lieth what May bring thee wealth untold.

Reflected from the vastly Infinite, However dulled by earth, each human mind Holds somewhere gems of beauty and of light Which, seeking, thou shalt find.

BY-AND-BYE

“By-and-bye,” the maiden sighed—“by-and-bye He will claim me for his bride, Hope is strong and time is fleet; Youth is fair, and love is sweet, Clouds will pass that fleck my sky, He will come back by-and-bye—by-and-bye.”

“By-and-bye,” the soldier said—“by-and-bye, After I have fought and bled, I shall go home from the wars, Crowned with glory, seamed with scars. Joy will flash from some one’s eye When she greets me by-and-bye—by-and-bye.”

“By-and-bye,” the mother cried—“by-and-bye, Strong and sturdy at my side, Like a staff supporting me, Will my bonnie baby be. Break my rest, then, wail and cry— Thou’lt repay me by-and-bye—by-and-bye.”

Fleeting years of time have sped—hurried by— Still the maiden is unwed: All unknown the soldier lies, Buried under alien skies; And the son, with blood-shot eye, Saw his mother starve and die. God in Heaven! dost Thou on high, Keep the promised “by-and-bye”—by-and-bye?

OVER THE MAY HILL

All through the night time, and all through the day time, Dreading the morning and dreading the night, Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time Season of beauty and season of blight, Leaves on the linden, and sun on the meadow, Green in the garden, and bloom everywhere, Gloom in my heart, and a terrible shadow, Walks by me, sits by me, stands by my chair.

Oh, but the birds by the brooklet are cheery, Oh, but the woods show such delicate greens, Strange how you droop and how soon you are weary— Too well I know what that weariness means. But how could I know in the crisp winter weather (Though sometimes I noticed a catch in your breath), Riding and singing and dancing together, How could I know you were racing with death?

How could I know when we danced until morning, And you were the gayest of all the gay crowd— With only that shortness of breath for a warning, How could I know that you danced for a shroud? Whirling and whirling through moonlight and starlight. Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave, Down in your eyes shone a deep light—a far light, How could I know ’twas the light to your grave?

Day by day, day by day, nearing and nearing, Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom, Cometh the shape and the shadow I’m fearing, “Over the May hill” is waiting your tomb. The season of mirth and of music is over— I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last song, Under the violets, under the clover, My heart and my love will be lying ere long

FOES

Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear As valued friends. He cannot know The zest of life who runneth here His earthly race without a foe.

I saw a prize. “Run,” cried my friend; “’Tis thine to claim without a doubt.” But ere I half-way reached the end, I felt my strength was giving out.

My foe looked on the while I ran; A scornful triumph lit his eyes. With that perverseness born in man, I nerved myself, and won the prize.

All blinded by the crimson glow Of sin’s disguise, I tempted Fate. “I knew thy weakness!” sneered my foe, I saved myself, and balked his hate.

For half my blessings, half my gain, I needs must thank my trusty foe; Despite his envy and disdain, He serves me well where’er I go.

So may I keep him to the end, Nor may his enmity abate: More faithful than the fondest friend, He guards me ever with his hate.

FRIENDSHIP