Custer, and Other Poems Part 9

And who shall claim them when I pa.s.s away?

Oh, jealous Fate, to torture and torment me With thoughts like these in my too fleeting day!

For while I gained the prize which all were seeking, And won you with the ardor of my quest, The bitter truth I know without your speaking-- _You only let me love you at the best_.

E'en while I lean and count my riches over, And view with gloating eyes your priceless charms, I know somewhere there dwells the unnamed lover Who yet shall clasp you, willing, in his arms.

And while my hands stray through your cl.u.s.tering tresses, And while my lips are pressed upon your own, This unseen lover waits for such caresses As my poor hungering clay has never known, And when some day, between you and your duty A green grave lies, his love shall make you glad, And you shall crown him with your splendid beauty-- Ah, G.o.d! ah, G.o.d! 'tis this way men go mad!

=I Am=

I know not whence I came, I know not whither I go; But the fact stands clear that I am here In this world of pleasure and woe.

And out of the mist and murk, Another truth shines plain.

It is in my power each day and hour To add to its joy or its pain.

I know that the earth exists, It is none of my business why.

I cannot find out what it's all about, I would but waste time to try.

My life is a brief, brief thing, I am here for a little s.p.a.ce.

And while I stay I would like, if I may, To brighten and better the place.

The trouble, I think, with us all Is the lack of a high conceit.

If each man thought he was sent to this spot To make it a bit more sweet, How soon we could gladden the world.

How easily right all wrong.

If n.o.body shirked, and each one worked To help his fellows along.

Cease wondering why you came-- Stop looking for faults and flaws.

Rise up to-day in your pride and say, "I am part of the First Great Cause!

However full the world There is room for an earnest man.

It had need of _me_ or I would not be, I am here to strengthen the plan."

=Two Nights=

(Suggested by the lives of Napoleon and Josephine.)

I.

One night was full of rapture and delight-- Of reunited arms and swooning kisses, And all the unnamed and unnumbered blisses Which fond souls find in love of love at night.

Heart beat with heart, and each clung into each With twining arms that did but loose their hold To cling still closer; and fond glances told These truths for which there is no uttered speech.

There was sweet laughter and endearing words, Made broken by the kiss that could not wait, And cooing sounds as of dear little birds That in spring-time love and woo and mate.

And languid sighs that breathed of love's content And all too soon this night of rapture went.

II.

One night was full of anguish and of pain, Of nerveless arms and mockery of kisses; And those caresses where one sick heart misses The quick response the other cannot feign.

Hands idly clasped and unclasped, and lost hold, And the averted eyes, that turned away, And in whose depths no love nor longing lay, The saddest of all truths too plainly told.

There was salt sorrow and the gall of tears, Some useless words that ended in a moan, And a dull dread of long unending years When one must walk forever more alone.

Deep shuddering sighs told more than lips could say; And the long night of sorrow wore away.

=Preparation=

We must not force events, but rather make The heart soil ready for their coming, as The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring, Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost, Prepares for Winter. Should a July noon Burst suddenly upon a frozen world Small joy would follow, even tho' that world Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting Of sharp December pierce the heart of June, What death and devastation would ensue!

All things are planned. The most majestic sphere That whirls through s.p.a.ce is governed and controlled By supreme law, as is the blade of gra.s.s Which through the bursting bosom of the earth Creeps up to kiss the light. Poor puny man Alone doth strive and battle with the Force Which rules all lives and worlds, and he alone Demands effect before producing cause.

How vain the hope! We cannot harvest joy Until we sow the seed, and G.o.d alone Knows when that seed has ripened. Oft we stand And watch the ground with anxious brooding eyes Complaining of the slow unfruitful yield, Not knowing that the shadow of ourselves Keeps off the sunlight and delays result.

Sometimes our fierce impatience of desire Doth like a sultry May force tender shoots Of half-formed pleasures and unshaped events To ripen prematurely, and we reap But disappointment; or we rot the germs With briny tears ere they have time to grow.

While stars are born and mighty planets die And hissing comets scorch the brow of s.p.a.ce The Universe keeps its eternal calm.

Through patient preparation, year on year, The earth endures the travail of the Spring And Winter's desolation. So our souls In grand submission to a higher law Should move serene through all the ills of life, Believing them masked joys.

=Custer=

=BOOK FIRST=

I.

All valor died not on the plains of Troy.

Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy To sing of deeds as dauntless and as brave As e'er lent l.u.s.ter to a warrior's grave.

Sing of that n.o.ble soldier, n.o.bler man, Dear to the heart of each American.

Sound forth his praise from sea to listening sea-- Greece her Achilles claimed, immortal Custer, we.

II.

Intrepid are earth's heroes now as when The G.o.ds came down to measure strength with men.

Let danger threaten or let duty call, And self surrenders to the needs of all; Incurs vast perils, or, to save those dear, Embraces death without one sigh or tear.

Life's martyrs still the endless drama play Though no great Homer lives to chant their worth to-day.

III.

And if he chanted, who would list his songs, So hurried now the world's gold-seeking throngs?