Freedom, Truth And Beauty Part 3

Forming the great Atlantic, see G.o.d take The mist from woe's white mountain, spring and stream, The breath of man in frost, the spiral lean From roof-cracked caves where, though the heart may break, The soul will not lie torpid, like the snake,-- And battle smoke. On them He breathes with dream And, Lo! an Angel with a sword agleam 'Twix the Old World and New for Justice's sake.

What sea so broad, as that from Human weeping?

Or Sun so flaming, as the Angel's sword Of Human and Devine Wills in accord?

There, with sword-flash of myriad waves, joy-leaping, Shall loom forever, Freedom's watch and ward, With the New World in his Seraphic keeping.

HUMAN FREEDOM

This is thy glory, Man, that thou art free.

'Tis in thy freedom, thy resemblance lies To thy Creator. Nature, which, tide-wise, Is flood and ebb, bounds not sky flight for thee.

Lo! as the sun arises from the sea, Startling all beauty G.o.d-ward, thou dost rise With mind to G.o.d in heaven, from finite ties, And there, in freedom, thou art great as He.

Meeting thy G.o.d with mind, 'tis thine to choose, Wheather to follow him with love and soar, Or dream Him myth and, rather than adore, Plunge headlong into Nature's whirl and ooze.

Thine is full freedom. Ah! could G.o.d do more To liken thee to Him, and love, infuse?

THE STARS

G.o.d loves the stars; else why star-shape the dew For the unbreathing, shy, heart-hiding rose?

And when earth darkens, and the North wind blows, Why into stars, flake every cloud's black brew?

What fitter forms for longings high and true, Man's hopes, ideals, than bright orbs like those Asbine from Nature's dawn to Nature's close, In cl.u.s.ters, prisming every dazzling hue?

Nor is the Sun with harvests in its heat, And that, sky-hidden, makes the moon at night, An earth-ward cascade for its leaps of light, More real, or a world force more complete, Than Faith and Hope, that brake through clouds with sight Of evil's foil and ultimate defeat.

THE GENESIS OF FREEDOM

I

O Freedom! Born amid resplendent spheres, And, with G.o.d-like creative power, endowed, Hast thou, to human life's blue depths, not vowed A splendor, not alone like that which 'pears At present, where the upper asure clears, But that the Nebulae will yet unshroud?

I hear thy far off cry where thou art lone, A John the Baptist: "Lo! one greater nears."

What is this Greater--this which is to meet The planets and ascend high, high and higher?

The right of human spirit to aspire And mount, unhampered--and by act, complete Creations harmony, as by desire, Proclaimed by brain with throb, by heart with beat.

II

In thy descent through azures, all aglow With circling spheres, the beauty of each blaze, And grandeur, then, of all, entrance thy gaze.

Thou thinkest, why not thus all life below?

Perceiving, then that all the breezes blow Upward and onward, in the skyey maze, Thou wouldst go back and start with them, to raise A new creation from chaotic throe.

Thou seest plainly that without that breeze, The breath of G.o.d, all that thou couldst create, Were lifeless, save to turn on thee with hate, And chase an age with grim atrocities; But with that breath, thou couldst raise life to mate The Planet's splendor, in the azures Peace.

III

O Freedom! as thy sister spirit, Spring, Pausing above the earth, sees every hue Of her prismatic crown, reflected true In forests and in fields, and fledgling's wing, So thou dost see thy spirit glorying With faith, that man is more than Nature's spew-- In human spirit that, from beauty drew First breath to know that soul is more than thing.

O Freedom! fain we follow thee in flight From chaos to G.o.d's glory round and round, Aloft! how like an elk pursued by hound, To brinks thou springest toward the distant height And, on bent knees, then speedest without sound, Like Faith through Death, till, lo! thou dost alight.

THE PILGRIM FATHERS

"Ye Wreaches, who would lay proud England's head Upon the block, and raise her features, then, Bloodless and ghastly, for the scorn of men!

Begone forever. Go where terrors spread Their sea and forest mouths to crush you dead.

Oh, how the clouds shall crimson from each glen, A roar with blaze, and flame search out each fen, If back to us, yea e'er are vomited."

To this Parental blessing and G.o.d-speed, The Pilgrim Fathers gladly made reply: "These waves are Conscience's wings along the sky; They carry us to G.o.d, whose call we heed.

The further from thy coast of hate and lie, The nearer G.o.d. On! On!--that is our creed."

PLYMOUTH ROCK

O Sun and Stars! bear ye Earth's thanks to G.o.d; For Oh! what waters, slaking every thirst Of heart, mind, spirit, in long cascades burst From Plymouth Rock, when struck by Freedom's rod!

No wanderer in the burning sand, unshod, Plods man with lolling tongue, dog-like, as erst; For lo! this fountain, deepening from the first, Floods Earth's old wells and greens Life's sand to sod.

Oh, more those waters than the Font of Youth, For which, through field and swamp, the Spaniard ran!

For they are clear with G.o.d's eternal truth Of fatherhood, hence brotherhood of man, And are no dream. They quench all human drouth And cleanse man's desert dust of sect and clan.

THE CATHOLICS IN MARYLAND

Of Expeditions in the Arctic Past, All honor to the one that reached the pole And formed a settlement where every soul Enjoyed full freedom. There above the blast, How musical the bell, by Justice cast!

It welcomed all to come. It ceased to toll After a while, but why? Those, welcomed, stole And dragged it where the ice formed thick and fast.

Of Arctic Expeditions there is none So profitable to the human race As that toward Freedom's pole, and hence men face All storms to reach it. If they fail, the sun Has but one joy--to thaw out wrecks, and trace Man's progress where alone it can be done.