Freedom, Truth And Beauty Part 11

Oh People, all--Italian, Spanish, French, Dutch, English, Irish, German, Jew, and Greek-- What see you, as you climb the Future's Peak?

Oh! no illusion. What looms there, shall wrench From life, all monsters out from h.e.l.l, to seek Dead consciences and plague earth with their stench.

II

Ascend, O Land of every Creed and Race!

Not thy full image, in New England's brook, Nor in the South's lagoon; though there, a look Delights us with thy chubby, infant face.

'Tis seas of joy, that sh.o.r.elessly replace The Ocean which, in time of old, forsook The prairies for the cloud, or spring in nook,-- That show thee, Grown, through G.o.d's abundant grace.

From East to West, how joy's high seas expand, Reflecting, not a foolish, mundane pride That, thinking it does all, sets G.o.d aside-- But Virtue which, with heart and head and hand, Works out G.o.d's purpose, with dear Christ for guide, And holy spirits Light to understand!

III

All Virtues from the longing of the soul; From wisdom, gained by sorrow through long ages; From inspiration of the bards, in rages That inter-marrying maniacs control A people's life, and drain its sea to shoal, And from the vision of sky-topping sages, Gasping for breath from rot in all its stages,-- Aye, these and new-born Genius loom there Whole.

Look, People! Little less than G.o.d's own size, Your virtues merge and, with speed G.o.d-ward, burn, An unconsuming sun, that at no turn In spiral flight, for still a grander rise, Lets night advance where human Rights still yearn, Except with great, new stars and dawning skys!

THE INEVITABLE

I

Behold two fleets, the one with woe for trail, The other, rapture. As they sight the strait, Through which but one can pa.s.s, Greed, urged by Hate, Drives Thraldom's crafts with help of steam and gale.

They feel their way. The guns, with which they hale, Raise jets, that look tall elms from Hope, the gate, To Peace, the Palace; then, their speed is great, Manoeuvering fast to head off, or a.s.sail.

Drawing the sea up for his driving steam, Greed breaks all mirrors in his grand state room, That show him dark inevitable doom, Close hovering, and exults: "I am Supreme.

When seas lack water for my funnel fume, I bid life send its every crimson stream."

II

What! in the darkness lowers boat after boat From Freedom's fleet, and each with lightening oars?

Treasons to G.o.d and country are the rowers.

They are the Gold and Hireling Brain, that gloat On conscience body with face down, afloat.

Why hail they Greed, to run on menial ch.o.r.es From deck to deck, or to and from all sh.o.r.es?

Why? To ensure the payment of a note.

Meanwhile, brisk Freedom's fleets with justice manned, And cosmic full momentum for their speed, Confront the crafts, fired up by fiendish Greed.

A clash and--lo! they pa.s.s the strait and land, Leaving in smoldering heaps, like autumn's weed, The hulks of thrall along time's vultured strand.

REPTILES WITH WINGS

Are l.u.s.t for Gold and Power not hideous sp.a.w.n Of prehistoric reptiles, that had wings?

Where e'er those crawled, they chawed all greening things And, when they mounted, how their lengths, full drawn, Basked barren in the sun before the dawn, Absorbing all its rays from budding Springs?

These drain life's dawn and by impoverishings, Draw and reduce to pulp, frail Consciences.

Oh, yea, bewinged with legislative crime, They bask in sunlight e'er the east sky greys, And drag the soul of man from G.o.d's embrace Of rights and freedom. Oh, how long a time Shall reptiles, deadly to the Human race, Be let grow wings and heavenward trail their slime?

THE OUTLAWS OF OUR COUNTRY

I

The outlaws in our country are the wretches, Who wreck the legislatures with their gold, And with the ruins, form a high stronghold To sally from, to what good nature fetches From G.o.d to man. What though fine graphic sketches In magazines show them with shoulders bold Against the nights flood-gates of dark and cold?

All effort is but life in death-throw stretches.

They are the outlaws, who stop Nature's train And take its corn and coal for selfish use; Then, put their shoulders to Night's gate, to loose Its hinges for a forty-day dark rain, To drown all life, that they, like Noah, may cruise Through thick drifts of the dead in heart and brain.

II

O heart and brain, who see the father load His train with food, not for the few, but all, And hear train-whistlings in March winds, jay call And ground-hog sniffs! Haste out, for from the road That leads to every Industry's abode, The trust that, bat-eyed, comes out at night-fall, Now moves the tracks inside his private wall, Claiming all trains from G.o.d a debt long owed.

O heart and brain, it rest with you, how long The legislative wreckers shall prevail.

Ye have the power to balk them. Why then, fail?

Regain your legislatures. Man them strong And drive thence all sleek hounds, trust-trained to trail Safe outlaws' paths to fastnesses of wrong.

THE PRESS

Was ever such unblushing harlotry, Such sale of virtue in the Market place, As by the Press? The red paint on her face Is Degradation's mark. Alas, that she, Born to bring forth the truth, still, is so base, She kills her child and, then, to hide all trace, Cracks bone by bone to dust, too fine to see.

O Press, poor harlot of the tyrant, Gold, What freedom, but from truth, hast thou to boast?

Hark, who now speaks is murdered Truth's pale ghost: "Conceiving life--oh, bring it forth! aye, hold Thy child on high with love, as priest, the Host!

Crush not its bones, with smile and eyes set cold."

THE TRUTH

What is the truth? The focus of all rays Pa.s.sing through Nature and the soul and mind.

It is the Sun of Suns, around which wind The Heavens and all the worlds. Such is its blaze, That had it not, at intervals, a haze, Grading both Angel and the Human-kind, The bright Arch-angel would be stricken blind, To grope in Heaven, a Homer, sighing lays.