Pike County Ballads and Other Poems Part 9

And suddenly upon my sight There grew a portent: left and right, On every side, as if the air Had taken substance then and there, In every sort of form and face, A throng of tourists filled the place.

I saw a Frenchman's sneering shrug; A German countess, in one hand A sky-blue string which held a pug, With the other a fiery face she fanned; A Yankee with a soft felt hat; A Coptic priest from Ararat; An English girl with cheeks of rose; A Nihilist with Socratic nose; Paddy from Cork with baggage light And pockets stuffed with dynamite; A haughty Southern Readjuster, Wrapped in his pride and linen duster; Two noisy New York stockbrokers, And twenty British globe-trotters.

To my disgust and vast surprise, They turned on me lack-l.u.s.tre eyes, And each with dropped and wagging jaw Burst out into a wild guffaw: They laughed with huge mouths opened wide; They roared till each one held his side; They screamed and writhed with brutal glee, With fingers rudely stretched to me,-- Till lo! at once the laughter died, The tourists faded into air; None but my fair maid lingered there, Who stood demurely by my side.

"Who were your friends?" I asked the maid, Taking a tea-cup from its shelf.

"This audience is disclosed," she said, "Whenever a man makes a fool of himself."

LIBERTY.

What man is there so bold that he should say, "Thus, and thus only, would I have the sea"?

For whether lying calm and beautiful, Clasping the earth in love, and throwing back The smile of heaven from waves of amethyst; Or whether, freshened by the busy winds, It bears the trade and navies of the world To ends of use or stern activity; Or whether, lashed by tempests, it gives way To elemental fury, howls and roars At all its rocky barriers, in wild l.u.s.t Of ruin drinks the blood of living things, And strews its wrecks o'er leagues of desolate sh.o.r.e,-- Always it is the sea, and men bow down Before its vast and varied majesty.

So all in vain will timorous ones essay To set the metes and bounds of Liberty.

For Freedom is its own eternal law; It makes its own conditions, and in storm Or calm alike fulfils the unerring Will.

Let us not then despise it when it lies Still as a sleeping lion, while a swarm Of gnat-like evils hover round its head; Nor doubt it when in mad, disjointed times It shakes the torch of terror, and its cry Shrills o'er the quaking earth, and in the flame Of riot and war we see its awful form Rise by the scaffold, where the crimson axe Rings down its grooves the knell of shuddering kings.

For ever in thine eyes, O Liberty, Shines that high light whereby the world is saved, And though thou slay us, we will trust in thee!

THE WHITE FLAG.

I sent my love two roses,--one As white as driven snow, And one a blushing royal red, A flaming Jacqueminot.

I meant to touch and test my fate; That night I should divine, The moment I should see my love, If her true heart were mine.

For if she holds me dear, I said, She'll wear my blushing rose; If not, she'll wear my cold Lamarque As white as winter's snows.

My heart sank when I met her: sure I had been over bold, For on her breast my pale rose lay In virgin whiteness cold.

Yet with low words she greeted me, With smiles divinely tender; Upon her cheek the red rose dawned.-- The white rose meant surrender.

THE LAW OF DEATH.

The song of Kilvani: fairest she In all the land of Savatthi.

She had one child, as sweet and gay And dear to her as the light of day.

She was so young, and he so fair, The same bright eyes and the same dark hair; To see them by the blossomy way, They seemed two children at their play.

There came a death-dart from the sky, Kilvani saw her darling die.

The glimmering shade his eyes invades, Out of his cheek the red bloom fades; His warm heart feels the icy chill, The round limbs shudder, and are still.

And yet Kilvani held him fast Long after life's last pulse was past, As if her kisses could restore The smile gone out for evermore.

But when she saw her child was dead, She scattered ashes on her head, And seized the small corpse, pale and sweet, And rushing wildly through the street, She sobbing fell at Buddha's feet.

"Master, all-helpful, help me now!

Here at thy feet I humbly bow; Have mercy, Buddha, help me now!"

She grovelled on the marble floor, And kissed the dead child o'er and o'er.

And suddenly upon the air There fell the answer to her prayer: "Bring me to-night a lotus tied With thread from a house where none has died."

She rose, and laughed with thankful joy, Sure that the G.o.d would save the boy.

She found a lotus by the stream; She plucked it from its noonday dream, And then from door to door she fared, To ask what house by Death was spared.

Her heart grew cold to see the eyes Of all dilate with slow surprise: "Kilvani, thou hast lost thy head; Nothing can help a child that's dead.

There stands not by the Ganges' side A house where none hath ever died."

Thus, through the long and weary day, From every door she bore away Within her heart, and on her arm, A heavier load, a deeper harm.

By gates of gold and ivory, By wattled huts of poverty, The same refrain heard poor Kilvani, THE LIVING ARE FEW, THE DEAD ARE MANY.

The evening came--so still and fleet-- And overtook her hurrying feet.

And, heartsick, by the sacred fane She fell, and prayed the G.o.d again.

She sobbed and beat her bursting breast: "Ah, thou hast mocked me, Mightiest!

Lo! I have wandered far and wide; There stands no house where none hath died."

And Buddha answered, in a tone Soft as a flute at twilight blown, But grand as heaven and strong as death To him who hears with ears of faith: "Child, thou art answered. Murmur not!

Bow, and accept the common lot."

Kilvani heard with reverence meet, And laid her child at Buddha's feet.

MOUNT TABOR.

On Tabor's height a glory came, And, shrined in clouds of lambent flame, The awestruck, hushed disciples saw Christ and the prophets of the law.

Moses, whose grand and awful face Of Sinai's thunder bore the trace, And wise Elias,--in his eyes The shade of Israel's prophecies,-- Stood in that wide, mysterious light, Than Syrian noons more purely bright, One on each hand, and high between Shone forth the G.o.dlike Nazarene.

They bowed their heads in holy fright,-- No mortal eyes could bear the sight,-- And when they looked again, behold!

The fiery clouds had backward rolled, And borne aloft in grandeur lonely, Nothing was left "save Jesus only."

Resplendent type of things to be!

We read its mystery to-day With clearer eyes than even they, The fisher-saints of Galilee.

We see the Christ stand out between The ancient law and faith serene, Spirit and letter; but above Spirit and letter both was Love.

Led by the hand of Jacob's G.o.d, Through wastes of eld a path was trod By which the savage world could move Upward through law and faith to love.

And there in Tabor's harmless flame The crowning revelation came.

The old world knelt in homage due, The prophets near in reverence drew, Law ceased its mission to fulfil, And Love was lord on Tabor's hill.

So now, while creeds perplex the mind And wranglings load the weary wind, When all the air is filled with words And texts that wring like clashing swords, Still, as for refuge, we may turn Where Tabor's shining glories burn,-- The soul of antique Israel gone, And nothing left but Christ alone.

RELIGION AND DOCTRINE.