Showing, while millions of souls hurry on, The virtues of collars, from sunset till dawn, By dart or by tumble of whirl within whirl, Starting new fads for the shame-weary girl, By maggoty motions in sickening line Proclaiming a hat or a soup or a wine, While there far above the steep cliffs of the street The stars sing a message elusive and sweet.
Now man cannot rest in his pleasure and toil His clumsy contraptions of coil upon coil Till the thing he invents, in its use and its range, Leads on to the marvellous CHANGE BEYOND CHANGE.
Some day this old Broadway shall climb to the skies, As a ribbon of cloud on a soul-wind shall rise.
And we shall be lifted, rejoicing by night, Till we join with the planets who choir their delight.
The signs in the street and the signs in the skies Shall make a new Zodiac, guiding the wise, And Broadway make one with that marvellous stair That is climbed by the rainbow-clad spirits of prayer.
In Memory of a ChildThe angels guide him now, And watch his curly head, And lead him in their games, The little boy we led.
He cannot come to harm, He knows more than we know, His light is brighter far Than daytime here below.
His path leads on and on, Through pleasant lawns and flowers, His brown eyes open wide At grass more green than ours.
With playmates like himself, The shining boy will sing, Exploring wondrous woods, Sweet with eternal spring.
Galahad, Knight Who PerishedA Poem Dedicated to All Crusaders against the International and Interstate Traffic in Young GirlsGalahad...soldier that perished...ages ago, Our hearts are breaking with shame, our tears overflow.
Galahad...knight who perished...awaken again, Teach us to fight for immaculate ways among men.
Soldiers fantastic, we pray to the star of the sea, We pray to the mother of God that the bound may be free.
Rose-crowned lady from heaven, give us thy grace, Help us the intricate, desperate battle to face Till the leer of the trader is seen nevermore in the land, Till we bring every maid of the age to one sheltering hand.
Ah, they are priceless, the pale and the ivory and red!
Breathless we gaze on the curls of each glorious head!
Arm them with strength mediaeval, thy marvellous dower, Blast now their tempters, shelter their steps with thy power.
Leave not life's fairest to perish -- strangers to thee, Let not the weakest be shipwrecked, oh, star of the sea!
The Leaden-eyedLet not young souls be smothered out before They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride.
It is the world's one crime its babes grow dull, Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden-eyed.
Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly, Not that they sow, but that they seldom reap, Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve, Not that they die, but that they die like sheep.
An Indian Summer Day on the Prairie(In the Beginning)The sun is a huntress young, The sun is a red, red joy, The sun is an Indian girl, Of the tribe of the Illinois.
(Mid-morning)
The sun is a smouldering fire, That creeps through the high gray plain, And leaves not a bush of cloud To blossom with flowers of rain.
(Noon)
The sun is a wounded deer, That treads pale grass in the skies, Shaking his golden horns, Flashing his baleful eyes.
(Sunset)
The sun is an eagle old, There in the windless west.
Atop of the spirit-cliffs He builds him a crimson nest.
The Hearth EternalThere dwelt a widow learned and devout, Behind our hamlet on the eastern hill.
Three sons she had, who went to find the world.
They promised to return, but wandered still.
The cities used them well, they won their way, Rich gifts they sent, to still their mother's sighs.
Worn out with honors, and apart from her, They died as many a self-made exile dies.
The mother had a hearth that would not quench, The deathless embers fought the creeping gloom.
She said to us who came with wondering eyes --"This is a magic fire, a magic room."
The pine burned out, but still the coals glowed on, Her grave grew old beneath the pear-tree shade, And yet her crumbling home enshrined the light.
The neighbors peering in were half afraid.
Then sturdy beggars, needing fagots, came, One at a time, and stole the walls, and floor.
They left a naked stone, but how it blazed!
And in the thunderstorm it flared the more.
And now it was that men were heard to say, "This light should be beloved by all the town."At last they made the slope a place of prayer, Where marvellous thoughts from God came sweeping down.
They left their churches crumbling in the sun, They met on that soft hill, one brotherhood;One strength and valor only, one delight, One laughing, brooding genius, great and good.
Now many gray-haired prodigals come home, The place out-flames the cities of the land, And twice-born Brahmans reach us from afar, With subtle eyes prepared to understand.
Higher and higher burns the eastern steep, Showing the roads that march from every place, A steady beacon o'er the weary leagues, At dead of night it lights the traveller's face!
Thus has the widow conquered half the earth, She who increased in faith, though all alone, Who kept her empty house a magic place, Has made the town a holy angel's throne.
The Soul of the City Receives the Gift of the Holy SpiritA Broadside distributed in Springfield, IllinoisCensers are swinging Over the town;Censers are swinging, Look overhead!
Censers are swinging, Heaven comes down.
City, dead city, Awake from the dead!
Censers, tremendous, Gleam overhead.
Wind-harps are ringing, Wind-harps unseen --Calling and calling: --
"Wake from the dead.
Rise, little city, Shine like a queen."
Soldiers of Christ For battle grow keen.
Heaven-sent winds Haunt alley and lane.
Singing of life In town-meadows green After the toil And battle and pain.
Incense is pouring Like the spring rain Down on the mob That moil through the street.
Blessed are they Who behold it and gain Power made more mighty Thro' every defeat.
Builders, toil on.
Make all complete.
Make Springfield wonderful.
Make her renown Worthy this day, Till, at God's feet, Tranced, saved forever, Waits the white town.