When the great winds through leafless forests rushing Sad music make; When the swollen streams, o'er crag and gully gushing, Like full hearts break, Will there then one, whose heart despair is crushing, When the bright sun upon that spot is shining, And the small flowers, their buds and blossoms twining, Will there be one still on that spot repining When no star twinkles with its eye of glory And wintry storms have, with their ruins hoary, Will there be then one, versed in misery's story, It may be so, but this is selfish sorrow A weakness and a wickedness to borrow, The wailings of to-day for what to-morrow Lay me then gently in my narrow dwelling, And though thy bosom should with grief be swelling, It were in vain,-for Time hath long been knelling, "Sad one, depart!" William Motherwell [1797-1835] THE RUBICON ONE other bitter drop to drink, And then-no more! One little pause upon the brink, And then-go o'er! One sigh—and then the lib'rant morn When my free spirit, newly born, Will soar away! One pang-and I shall rend the thrall And generous Death will show me all That now he hides; And, lucid in that second birth, I shall discern What all the sages of the earth Have died to learn. One motion-and the stream is crossed, So dark, so deep! And I shall triumph, or be lost In endless sleep. Then, onward! Whatsoe'er my fate, I shall not care! Nor Sin nor Sorrow, Love nor Hate Can touch me there. William Winter [1836 WHEN I HAVE GONE WEIRD WAYS WHEN I have finished with this episode, Left the hard, uphill road, And gone weird ways to seek another load, Nor dig a grave, nor rear for me a tomb But give my body to the funeral pyre, Eager and strong and swift, like my desire, Scatter my subtle essence into space, And sweep the bitter ashes from the hearth, And thus, O little house that sheltered me, Part of the cosmic weird economy. And, oh, how oft with new life shalt thou lift Out of the atom-drift! John G. Neihardt [1881 A RHYME OF LIFE Ir life be as a flame that death doth kill, With a pure flame, that I may rightly see God's plan fulfil. If life be as a flower that blooms and dies, Untainted rise. If life be as a voyage, foul or fair, For adverse gale, or wave in angry whirl, Till I have found the gates of pearl, And anchored there. Charles Warren Stoddard [1843-1909] "THALATTA! THALATTA!” CRY OF THE TEN THOUSAND I STAND upon the summit of my years; The wandering and the desert; vast, afar, Beyond this weary way, behold! the Sea! The sea o'erswept by clouds and winds and wings, A widening heaven, a current without care. REQUIEM HUSH your prayers, 'tis no saintly soul Trumpet and drum shall my requiem yield— Dig no hole in the ground for me: Though my body be made of mold and must, Reeking still with the sweat of the strife, Never a prayer have I to say (My lips long since have forgotten the way) Save this: "I have sorrowed sore in my day But I thank Thee, God, for my life!" F. Norreys Connell [18 INVICTUS OUT of the night that covers me, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. William Ernest Henley [1849-1903] A LATE LARK TWITTERS FROM THE QUIET SKIES" A LATE lark twitters from the quiet skies; And from the west, Where the sun, his day's work ended, Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city An influence luminous and serene, A shining peace. The smoke ascends In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires Closing his benediction, Sinks, and the darkening air Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night— Night with her train of stars And her great gift of sleep. So be my passing! My task accomplished and the long day done, |