Poems of Purpose Part 6

When I was very young I used to feel the dark despairs of youth; Out of my little griefs I would invent great tragedies and woes; Not only for myself, but for all those I held most dear I would invent vast sorrows in my melancholy moods of thought.

Yet down deep, deep in my heart there was an undertone of rapture.

It was like a voice from some other world calling softly to me, Saying things joyful.

As I grew older, and Life offered bitter gall for me to drink, Forcing it through clenched teeth when I refused to take it willingly; When Pain prepared some special anguish for my heart to bear, And all the things I longed for seemed to be wholly beyond my reach - Yet down deep, deep in my heart there was an undertone of rapture.

It was like a Voice, a Voice from some other world calling to me, Bringing glad tidings.

Now when I look about me, and see the great injustices of men, See Idleness and Greed waited upon by luxury and mirth, See prosperous Vice ride by in state, while footsore Virtue walks; Now when I hear the cry of need rise up from lands of shameful wealth - Yet down deep, deep in my heart there is an undertone of rapture.

It is like a Voice--it is a Voice--calling to me and saying: 'Love rules triumphant.'

Now when each mile-post on the path of life seems marked by headstones, And one by one dear faces that I loved are hid away from sight; Now when in each familiar home I see a vacant chair, And in the throngs once formed of friends I meet unrecognising eyes - Yet down deep, deep in my heart there is an undertone of rapture.

It is the Voice, it is the Voice for ever saying unto me: 'Life is Eternal.'

GYPSYING

Gypsying, gypsying, through the world together, Never mind the way we go, never mind what port.

Follow trails, or fashion sails, start in any weather: While we journey hand in hand, everything is sport.

Gypsying, gypsying, leaving care and worry: Never mind the 'if' and 'but' (words for coward lips).

Put them out with 'fear' and 'doubt,' in the pack with 'hurry,'

While we stroll like vagabonds forth to trails, or ships.

Gypsying, gypsying, just where fancy calls us; Never mind what others say, or what others do.

Everywhere or foul or fair, liking what befalls us: While you have me at your side, and while I have you.

Gypsying, gypsying, camp by hill or hollow; Never mind the why of it, since it suits our mood.

Go or stay, and pay our way, and let those who follow Find, upspringing from the soil, some small seed of good.

Gypsying, gypsying, through the world we wander: Never mind the rushing years, that have come and gone.

There must be for you and me, lying over Yonder, Other lands, where side by side we can gypsy on.

SONG OF THE ROAD

I am a Road; a good road, fair and smooth and broad; And I link with my beautiful tether Town and Country together, Like a ribbon rolled on the earth, from the reel of G.o.d.

Oh, great the life of a Road!

I am a Road; a long road, leading on and on; And I cry to the world to follow, Past meadow and hill and hollow, Through desolate night, to the open gates of dawn.

Oh, bold the life of a Road!

I am a Road; a kind road, shaped by strong hands.

I make strange cities neighbours; The poor grow rich with my labours, And beauty and comfort follow me through the lands.

Oh, glad the life of a Road!

I am a Road; a wise road, knowing all men's ways; And I know how each heart reaches For the things dear Nature teaches; And I am the path that leads into green young Mays.

Oh, sweet the life of a Road!

I am a Road; and I speed away from the slums, Away from desolate places, Away from unused s.p.a.ces; Wherever I go, there order from chaos comes.

Oh, brave the life of a Road!

I am a Road; and I would make the whole world one.

I would give hope to duty, And cover the earth with beauty.

Do you not see, O men! how all this might be done?

So vast the power of the Road!

THE FAITH WE NEED

Too tall our structures, and too swift our pace; Not so we mount, not so we gain the race.

Too loud the voice of commerce in the land; Not so truth speaks, not so we understand.

Too vast our conquests, and too large our gains; Not so comes peace, not so the soul attains.

But the need of the world is a faith that will live anywhere; In the still dark depths of the woods, or out in the sun's full glare.

A faith that can hear G.o.d's voice, alike in the quiet glen, Or in the roar of the street, and over the noises of men.

And the need of the world is a creed that is founded on joy; A creed with the turrets of hope and trust, no winds can destroy; A creed where the soul finds rest, whatever this life bestows, And dwells undoubting and unafraid, because it knows, it knows.

And the need of the world is love that burns in the heart like flame; A love for the Giver of Life, in sorrow or joy the same; A love that blazes a trail to Go through the dark and the cold, Or keeps the pathway that leads to Him clean, through glory and gold.

For the faith that can only thrive or grow in the solitude, And droops and dies in the marts of men, where sights and sounds are rude; That is not a faith at all, but a dream of a mystic's heart; Our faith should point as the compa.s.s points, whatever be the chart.

Our faith must find its centre of peace in a babel of noise; In the changing ways of the world of men it must keep its poise; And over the sorrowing sounds of earth it must hear G.o.d's call; And the faith that cannot do all this, that is not faith at all.

THE PRICE HE PAID

I said I would have my fling, And do what a young man may; And I didn't believe a thing That the parsons have to say.

I didn't believe in a G.o.d That gives us blood like fire, Then flings us into h.e.l.l because We answer the call of desire.

And I said: 'Religion is rot, And the laws of the world are nil; For the bad man is he who is caught And cannot foot his bill.

And there is no place called h.e.l.l; And heaven is only a truth When a man has his way with a maid, In the fresh keen hour of youth.

'And money can buy us grace, If it rings on the plate of the church: And money can neatly erase Each sign of a sinful smirch.'

For I saw men everywhere, Hotfooting the road of vice; And women and preachers smiled on them As long as they paid the price.