The Poems of Henry Van Dyke Part 34

The glory of our life below Comes not from what we do, or what we know, But dwells forevermore in what we are.

There is an architecture grander far Than all the fortresses of war, More inextinguishably bright Than learning's lonely towers of light.

Framing its walls of faith and hope and love In souls of men, it lifts above The frailty of our earthly home An everlasting dome; The sanctuary of the human host, The living temple of the Holy Ghost.

XI

If music led the builders long ago, When Arthur planned the halls of Camelot, And made the royal city grow, Fair as a flower in that forsaken spot; What sweeter music shall we bring, To weave a harmony divine Of prayer and holy thought Into the labours of this loftier shrine, This consecrated hill, Where through so many a year Our Alma Mater's hand hath wrought, With toil serene and still, And heavenly hope, to rear Eternal dwellings for the Only King?

Here let no martial trumpets blow, Nor instruments of pride proclaim The loud exultant notes of fame!

But let the chords be clear and low, And let the anthem deeper grow, And let it move more solemnly and slow; For only such an ode Can seal the harmony Of that deep masonry Wherein the soul of man is framed for G.o.d's abode.

XII

O Thou whose boundless love bestows The joy of earth, the hope of Heaven, And whose unchartered mercy flows O'er all the blessings Thou hast given; Thou by whose light alone we see; And by whose truth our souls set free Are made imperishably strong; Hear Thou the solemn music of our song.

Grant us the knowledge that we need To solve the questions of the mind, And light our candle while we read, To keep our hearts from going blind; Enlarge our vision to behold The wonders Thou hast wrought of old; Reveal thyself in every law, And gild the towers of truth with holy awe.

Be Thou our strength if war's wild gust Shall rage around us, loud and fierce; Confirm our souls and let our trust Be like a shield that none can pierce; Renew the courage that prevails, The steady faith that never fails, And make us stand in every fight Firm as a fortress to defend the right.

O G.o.d, control us as Thou wilt, And guide the labour of our hand; Let all our work be surely built As Thou, the architect, hast planned; But whatso'er thy power shall make Of these frail lives, do not forsake Thy dwelling: let thy presence rest For ever in the temple of our breast.

SPIRIT OF THE EVERLASTING BOY

ODE FOR THE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF LAWRENCEVILLE SCHOOL

June 11, 1910

I

The British bard who looked on Eton's walls, Endeared by distance in the pearly gray And soft aerial blue that ever falls On English landscape with the dying day, Beheld in thought his boyhood far away, Its random raptures and its festivals Of noisy mirth, The brief illusion of its idle joys, And mourned that none of these can stay With men, whom life inexorably calls To face the grim realities of earth.

His pensive fancy pictured there at play From year to year the careless bands of boys, Unconscious victims kept in golden state, While haply they await The dark approach of disenchanting Fate, To hale them to the sacrifice Of Pain and Penury and Grief and Care, Slow-withering Age, or Failure's swift despair.

Half-pity and half-envy dimmed the eyes Of that old poet, gazing on the scene Where long ago his youth had flowed serene, And all the burden of his ode was this: "Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise."

II

But not for us, O plaintive elegist, Thine epicedial tone of sad farewell To joy in wisdom and to thought in youth!

Our western Muse would keep her tryst With sunrise, not with sunset, and foretell In boyhood's bliss the dawn of manhood's truth.

III

O spirit of the everlasting boy, Alert, elate, And confident that life is good, Thou knockest boldly at the gate, In hopeful hardihood, Eager to enter and enjoy Thy new estate.

Through the old house thou runnest everywhere, Bringing a breath of folly and fresh air.

Ready to make a treasure of each toy, Or break them all in discontented mood; Fearless of Fate, Yet strangely fearful of a comrade's laugh; Reckless and timid, hard and sensitive; In talk a rebel, full of mocking chaff, At heart devout conservative; In love with love, yet hating to be kissed; Inveterate optimist, And judge severe, In reason cloudy but in feeling clear; Keen critic, ardent hero-worshipper, Impatient of restraint in little ways, Yet ever ready to confer On chosen leaders boundless power and praise; Adventurous spirit burning to explore Untrodden paths where hidden danger lies, And homesick heart looking with wistful eyes Through every twilight to a mother's door; Thou daring, darling, inconsistent boy, How dull the world would be Without thy presence, dear barbarian, And happy lord of high futurity!

Be what thou art, our trouble and our joy, Our hardest problem and our brightest hope!

And while thine elders lead thee up the slope Of knowledge, let them learn from teaching thee That vital joy is part of nature's plan, And he who keeps the spirit of the boy Shall gladly grow to be a happy man.

IV

What const.i.tutes a school?

Not ancient halls and ivy-mantled towers, Where dull traditions rule With heavy hand youth's lightly springing powers; Not s.p.a.cious pleasure courts, And lofty temples of athletic fame, Where devotees of sports Mistake a pastime for life's highest aim; Not fashion, nor renown Of wealthy patronage and rich estate; No, none of these can crown A school with light and make it truly great.

But masters, strong and wise, Who teach because they love the teacher's task, And find their richest prize In eyes that open and in minds that ask; And boys, with heart aglow To try their youthful vigour on their work, Eager to learn and grow, And quick to hate a coward or a shirk: These const.i.tute a school,-- A vital forge of weapons keen and bright, Where living sword and tool Are tempered for true toil or n.o.ble fight!

But let not wisdom scorn The hours of pleasure in the playing fields: There also strength is born, And every manly game a virtue yields.

Fairness and self-control, Good-humour, pluck, and patience in the race, Will make a lad heart-whole To win with honour, lose without disgrace.

Ah, well for him who gains In such a school apprenticeship to life: With him the joy of youth remains In later lessons and in larger strife!

V

On Jersey's rolling plain, where Washington, In midnight marching at the head Of ragged regiments, his army led To Princeton's victory of the rising sun; Here in this liberal land, by battle won For Freedom and the rule Of equal rights for every child of man, Arose a democratic school, To train a virile race of sons to bear With thoughtful joy the name American, And serve the G.o.d who heard their father's prayer.

No cloister, dreaming in a world remote From that real world wherein alone we live; No mimic court, where t.i.tled names denote A dignity that only worth can give; But here a friendly house of learning stood, With open door beside the broad highway, And welcomed lads to study and to play In generous rivalry of brotherhood.

A hundred years have pa.s.sed, and Lawrenceville, In beauty and in strength renewed, Stands with her open portal still, And neither time nor fortune brings To her deep spirit any change of mood, Or faltering from the faith she held of old.

Still to the democratic creed she clings: That manhood needs nor rank nor gold To make it n.o.ble in our eyes; That every boy is born with royal right, From blissful ignorance to rise To joy more lasting and more bright, In mastery of body and of mind, King of himself and servant of mankind.

VI

Old Lawrenceville, Thy happy bell Shall ring to-day, O'er vale and hill, O'er mead and dell, While far away, With silent thrill, The echoes roll Through many a soul, That knew thee well, In boyhood's day, And loves thee still.

Ah, who can tell How far away, Some sentinel Of G.o.d's good will, In forest cool, Or desert gray, By lonely pool, Or barren hill, Shall faintly hear, With inward ear, The chiming bell, Of his old school, Through darkness pealing; And lowly kneeling, Shall feel the spell Of grateful tears His eyelids fill; And softly pray To Him who hears: G.o.d bless old Lawrenceville!

TEXAS

A DEMOCRATIC ODE [1]

I

THE WILD-BEES

All along the Brazos river, All along the Colorado, In the valleys and the lowlands Where the trees were tall and stately, In the rich and rolling meadows Where the gra.s.s was full of wild-flowers, Came a humming and a buzzing, Came the murmur of a going To and fro among the tree-tops, Far and wide across the meadows.

And the red-men in their tepees Smoked their pipes of clay and listened.

"What is this?" they asked in wonder; "Who can give the sound a meaning?

Who can understand the language Of this going in the tree-tops?"

Then the wisest of the Tejas Laid his pipe aside and answered: "O my brothers, these are people, Very little, winged people, Countless, busy, banded people, Coming humming through the timber.

These are tribes of bees, united By a single aim and purpose, To possess the Tejas' country, Gather harvest from the prairies, Store their wealth among the timber.

These are hive and honey makers, Sent by Manito to warn us That the white men now are coming, With their women and their children.

Not the fiery filibusters Pa.s.sing wildly in a moment, Like a flame across the prairies, Like a whirlwind through the forest, Leaving empty lands behind them!

Not the Mexicans and Spaniards, Indolent and proud hidalgos, Dwelling in their haciendas, Dreaming, talking of tomorrow, While their cattle graze around them, And their fickle revolutions Change the rulers, not the people!

Other folk are these who follow When the wild-bees come to warn us; These are hive and honey makers, These are busy, banded people, Roaming far to swarm and settle, Working every day for harvest, Fighting hard for peace and order, Worshipping as queens their women, Making homes and building cities Full of riches and of trouble.

All our hunting-grounds must vanish, All our lodges fall before them, All our customs and traditions, All our happy life of freedom, Fade away like smoke before them.