Maurine and Other Poems Part 18

Lean down and lift me higher, Josephine!

From the Eternal Hills hast thou not seen How I do strive for heights? but lacking wings, I cannot grasp at once those better things To which I in my inmost soul aspire.

Lean down and lift me higher.

I grope along--not desolate or sad, For youth and hope and health all keep me glad; But too bright sunlight, sometimes, makes us blind, And I do grope for heights I cannot find.

Oh, thou must know my one supreme desire-- Lean down and lift me higher.

Not long ago we trod the self-same way.

Thou knowest how, from day to fleeting day Our souls were vexed with trifles, and our feet, Were lured aside to by-paths which seemed sweet, But only served to hinder and to tire; Lean down and lift me higher.

Thou hast gone onward to the heights serene, And left me here, my loved one, Josephine; I am content to stay until the end, For life is full of promise; but, my friend, Canst thou not help me in my best desire And lean, and lift me higher?

Frail as thou wert, thou hast grown strong and wise, And quick to understand and sympathize With all a full soul's needs. It must be so, Thy year with G.o.d hath made thee great I know.

Thou must see how I struggle and aspire-- Oh, warm me with a breath of heavenly fire, And lean, and lift me higher.

COMRADES.

I and my Soul are alone to-day, All in the shining weather; We were sick of the world, and we put it away, So we could rejoice together.

Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky Is mixing a rare, sweet wine, In the burnished gold of his cup on high, For me, and this Soul of mine.

We find it a safe and royal drink, And a cure for every pain; It helps us to love, and helps us to think, And strengthens body and brain.

And sitting here, with my Soul alone, Where the yellow sun-rays fall, Of all the friends I have ever known I find it the _best_ of all.

We rarely meet when the World is near, For the World hath a pleasing art And brings me so much that is bright and dear That my Soul it keepeth apart.

But when I grow weary of mirth and glee, Of glitter, and glow, and splendor, Like a tried old friend it comes to me, With a smile that is sad and tender.

And we walk together as two friends may, And laugh, and drink G.o.d's wine.

Oh, a royal comrade any day I find this Soul of mine.

WHAT GAIN?

Now, while thy rounded cheek is fresh and fair, While beauty lingers, laughing, in thine eyes, Ere thy young heart shall meet the stranger, "Care,"

Or thy blithe soul become the home of sighs, Were it not kindness should I give thee rest By plunging this sharp dagger in thy breast?

Dying so young, with all thy wealth of youth, What part of life wouldst thou not claim, in sooth?

Only the woe, Sweetheart, that sad souls know.

Now, in this sacred hour of supreme trust, Of pure delight and palpitating joy, Ere change can come, as come it surely must, With jarring doubts and discords, to destroy Our far too perfect peace, I pray thee, Sweet, Were it not best for both of us, and meet, If I should bring swift death to seal our bliss?

Dying so full of joy, what could we miss?

Nothing but tears, Sweetheart, and weary years.

How slight the action! Just one well-aimed blow Here where I feel thy warm heart's pulsing beat, And then another through my own, and so Our perfect union would be made complete: So past all parting, I should claim thee mine.

Dead with our youth, and faith, and love divine, Should we not keep the best of life that way?

What shall we gain by living day on day?

What shall we gain, Sweetheart, but bitter pain?

LIFE.

I feel the great immensity of life.

All little aims slip from me, and I reach My yearning soul toward the Infinite.

As when a mighty forest, whose green leaves Have shut it in, and made it seem a bower For lovers' secrets, or for children's sports, Casts all its cl.u.s.tering foliage to the winds, And lets the eye behold it, limitless, And full of winding mysteries of ways: So now with life that reaches out before, And borders on the unexplained Beyond.

I see the stars above me, world on world: I hear the awful language of all s.p.a.ce; I feel the distant surging of great seas, That hide the secrets of the Universe In their eternal bosoms; and I know That I am but an atom of the Whole.

TO THE WEST.

[In an interview with Lawrence Barrett, he said: "The literature of the New World must look to the West for its poetry."]

Not to the crowded East, Where, in a well-worn groove, Like the harnessed wheel of a great machine, The trammeled mind must move-- Where Thought must follow the fashion of Thought, Or be counted vulgar and set at naught.

Not to the languid South, Where the mariners of the brain Are lured by the Sirens of the Sense, And wrecked upon its main-- Where Thought is rocked, on the sweet wind's breath, To a torpid sleep that ends in death.

But to the mighty West, That chosen realm of G.o.d, Where Nature reaches her hands to men, And Freedom walks abroad-- Where mind is King, and fashion is naught: There shall the New World look for thought.

To the West, the beautiful West, She shall look, and not in vain-- For out of its broad and boundless store Come muscle, and nerve, and brain.

Let the bards of the East and the South be dumb-- For out of the West shall the Poets come.

They shall come with souls as great As the cradle where they were rocked; They shall come with brows that are touched with fire, Like the G.o.ds with whom they have walked; They shall come from the West in royal state, The Singers and Thinkers for whom we wait.

THE LAND OF CONTENT.

I set out for the Land of Content, By the gay crowded pleasure-highway, With laughter, and jesting, I went With the mirth-loving throng for a day; Then I knew I had wandered astray, For I met returned pilgrims, belated, Who said, "We are weary and sated, But we found not the Land of Content."

I turned to the steep path of fame, I said, "It is over yon height-- This land with the beautiful name-- Ambition will lend me its light."

But I paused in my journey ere night, For the way grew so lonely and troubled; I said--my anxiety doubled-- "This is not the road to Content."

Then I joined the great rabble and throng That frequents the moneyed world's mart; But the greed, and the grasping and wrong, Left me only one wish--to depart.

And sickened, and saddened at heart, I hurried away from the gateway, For my soul and my spirit said straightway, "This is not the road to Content."

Then weary in body and brain, An overgrown path I detected, And I said "I will hide with my pain In this by-way, unused and neglected."

Lo! it led to the realm G.o.d selected To crown with his best gifts of beauty, And through the dark pathway of duty I came to the land of Content.