I bring you gold and silver moons
And diamond stars, and mists that float.
I bring you moons and snowy clouds,
I bring you prairie skies to-night
To feebly praise your golden eyes
And red-bird song, and throat so white.
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[This is the hymn to Eleanor, daughter of Mab and a golden drone, sung by the Locust choir when the fairy child marries her God, the yellow rose]
Cold in the breast as the frost-wrapped Spring,Whose feet are slow on the hills of life,Whose round mouth rules by whispering.This is a song to the white-armed oneWhose breast shall burn as a Summer field,Whose wings shall rise to the doors of gold,Whose poppy lips to the God shall yield.This is a song to the…
‘Bring me soft song,’ said Aladdin.
Chant me a word of the twilight,Of roses that mourn in the fall.Bring me a song like hashishThat will comfort the stale and the sad,For I would be mending my spirit,Forgetting these days that are bad,Forgetting companions too shallow,Their quarrels and arguments thin,Forgetting the shouting Muezzin:’–‘I AM YOUR SLAVE,’ said the Jinn.‘Bring me old wines,’…
O great heart of God,
Why do I throb with your throb to-night,In this land, eternity?O little heart of God,Sweet intruding stranger,You are laughing in my human breast,A Christ-child in a manger.Heart, dear heart of God,Beside you now I kneel,Strong heart of faith. O heart not mine,Where God has set His seal.Wild thundering heart of GodOut of my doubt I…
When Bryan speaks, the town’s a hive.
The sparrow chirps. The rooster crows.The place is kicking and alive.When Bryan speaks, the bunting glows.The raw procession onward flows.The small dogs bark. The children laughA wind of springtime fancy blows.When Bryan speaks, the wigwam shakes.The corporation magnate quakes.The pre-convention plot is smashed.The valiant pleb full-armed awakes.When Bryan speaks, the sky is ours,The wheat, the…
Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all,
From lonely prairies and God’s tenderness.Imperial soul, star of a weedy stream,Born where the ghosts of buffaloes still dream,Whose spirit hoof-beats storm above his grave,Above that breast of earth and prairie-fire —Fire that freed the slave.
When I see a young tree
With white leavesAnd white budsBarely tipped with green,In the April weather,In the weeping sunshine—Then I see my lady,My democratic queen,Standing free and equalWith the youngest woodland saplingSwaying, singing in the wind,Delicate and white:Soul so near to blossom,Fragile, strong as death;A kiss from far-off Eden,A flash of Judgment’s trumpet—April’s breath.
I bring you gold and silver moons,
And diamond stars, and mists that float.
I bring you moons and snowy clouds,
I bring you prarie skies to-night
To feebly praise your golden eyes
And red-bird song, and throat so white.
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I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SIMON LEGREE
Legree’s big house was white and green.His cotton-fields were the best to be seen.He had strong horses and opulent cattle,And bloodhounds bold, with chains that would rattle.His garret was full of curious things:Books of magic, bags of gold,And rabbits’ feet on long twine strings.But he went down to the Devil.Legree he sported a brass-buttoned coat,A…
(Matthew V, 38-48.)
Giving to each what he asks, braving the uttermost dangerAll for the enemy, MAN? Who can surrender till deathHis words and his works, his house and his lands,His eyes and his heart and his breath?Who can surrender to Christ? Many have yearned toward it daily.Yet they surrender to passion, wildly or grimly or gaily;Yet they…
(To a Man who maintained that the Mausoleum is the Stateliest Possible Manner of Interment)
Follow the plough with a yokel tread.I would be part of the Indian corn,Walking the rows with the plumes o’erhead.I would be one with the lavish earth,Eating the bee-stung apples red:Walking where lambs walk on the hills;By oak-grove paths to the pools be led.I would be one with the dark-bright nightWhen sparkling skies and the…
I saw Lord Buddha towering by my gate
Saying: ‘I bring you my fair Law of PeaceAnd from your withering passion full release;Release from that white hand that stabbed you so.The road is calling. With the wind you go,Forgetting her imperious disdain —Quenching all memory in the sun and rain.’‘Excellent Lord, I come. But first,’ I said,‘Grant that I bring her these twelve…
Even the shrewd and bitter,
Cherished the stranger softlySeeing his utter need.Shelter and patient hearing,These were their gifts to him,To the minstrel, grimly beggingAs the sunset-fire grew dim.The rich said ‘You are welcome.’Yea, even the rich were good.How strange that in their feastingHis songs were understood!The doors of the poor were open,The poor who had wandered too,Who had slept with…
[Written while a field-worker in the Anti-Saloon League of Illinois.]
They challenge everywhereThe foes of Christ’s Eternal Church.Her incense crowns the air.The heathen knighthood cower and curseTo hear the bugles ring,But spears are set, the charge is on,Wise Arthur shall be king!And Cromwell’s men have come again,I meet them in the street.Stern but in this — no way of thornsShall snare the children’s feet.The reveling…