Poems of Experience - Ella Wheeler Wilcox (no david read aloud TXT) 📗

hour is near; For each rotting throne must tremble, and fall broken in the dust, With the leaders who dissemble, and betray a people’s trust.

Still the voice of God is calling; and above the wreck I see, And beyond the gloom appalling, the great Government-to-Be.

From the ruins it has risen, and my soul is overjoyed, For the school supplants the prison, and there are no ‘unemployed.’

And there are no children’s faces at the spindle or the loom; They are out in sunny places, where the other sweet things bloom; God has purified the alleys, He has set the white slaves free, And they own the hills and valleys in this Government to-Be.

THE RADIANT CHRIST I

Arise, O master artist of the age, And paint the picture which at once shall be Immortal art and bless’d prophecy. The bruised vision of the world assuage; To earth’s dark book add one illumined page, So scintillant with truth, that all who see Shall break from superstition and stand free. Now let this wondrous work thy hand engage. The mortal sorrow of the Nazarene, Too long has been faith’s symbol and its sign; Too long a dying Saviour has sufficed. Give us the glowing emblem which shall mean Mankind awakened to the Self Divine; The living emblem of the Radiant Christ.

II

Too long the crucifix on Calvary’s height Has cast its shadow on the human heart. Let now Religion’s great co-worker Art, Limn on the background of departing night, The shining Face all palpitant with light, And God’s true message to the world impart. Go tell each toiler in the home and mart, ‘Lo, Christ is with ye, if ye seek aright.’ The world forgets the vital word Christ taught; The only word the world has need to know: The answer to creation’s problem—Love. The world remembers what the Christ forgot; His cross of anguish and His death of woe; Release the martyr, and the Cross remove!

III

For now the former things have passed away, And man, forgetting that which lies behind, And ever pressing forward, seeks to find The prize of his high calling. Send a ray From art’s bright sun to fortify the day, And blaze the trail to every mortal mind. The new religion lies in being kind; Faith stands and works, where once it knelt to pray; Faith counts its gain, where once it reckoned loss; Ascending paths its patient feet have trod; Man looks within, and finds salvation there. Release the suffering Saviour from the Cross, And give the waiting world its Radiant God.

AT BAY WIFE

Reach out your arms, and hold me close and fast. Tell me there are no memories of your past That mar this love of ours, so great, so vast.

HUSBAND

Some truths are cheapened when too oft averred. Does not the deed speak louder than the word? (Dear God, that old dream woke again and stirred.)

WIFE

As you love me, you never loved before? Though oft you say it, say it yet once more. My heart is jealous of those days of yore.

HUSBAND

Sweet wife, dear comrade, mother of my child, My life is yours by memory undefiled. (It stirs again, that passion brief and wild.)

WIFE

You never knew a happier hour than this? We two alone, our hearts surcharged with bliss, Nor other kisses, sweet as my own kiss?

HUSBAND

I was a thirsty field, long parched with drouth; You were the warm rain, blowing from the south. (But, ah, the crimson madness of HER mouth!)

WIFE

You would not, if you could, go down life’s track For just one little moment and bring back Some vanished rapture that you miss or lack?

HUSBAND

I am content. You are my life, my all. (One burning hour, but one, could I recall; God, how men lie when driven to the wall!)

THE BIRTH OF JEALOUSY

With brooding mien and sultry eyes, Outside the gates of Paradise Eve sat, and fed the faggot flame That lit the path whence Adam came. (Strange are the workings of a woman’s mind.)

His giant shade preceded him, Along the pathway green, and dim; She heard his swift approaching tread, But still she sat with drooping head. (Dark are the jungles of unhappy thought.)

He kissed her mouth, and gazed within Her troubled eyes; for since their sin, His love had grown a thousand fold. But Eve drew back; her face was cold. (Oh, who can read the cipher of a soul.)

‘Now art thou mourning still, sweet wife?’ Spake Adam tenderly, ‘the life Of our lost Eden? Why, in THEE All Paradise remains for me.’ (Deep, deep the currents in a strong man’s heart.)

Thus Eve: ‘Nay, not lost Eden’s bliss I mourn; for heavier woe than this Wears on me with one thought accursed. IN ADAM’S LIFE I AM NOT FIRST. (O woman’s mind! what hells are fashioned there.)

‘The serpent whispered Lilith’s name: (‘Twas thus he drove me to my shame) Pluck yonder fruit, he said, and know, How Adam loved HER, long ago. (Fools, fools, who wander searching after pain.)

‘I ate; and like an ancient scroll, I saw that other life unroll; I saw thee, Adam, far from here With Lilith on a wondrous sphere. (Bold, bold, the daring of a jealous heart.)

‘Nay, tell me not I dreamed it all; Last night in sleep thou didst let fall Her name in tenderness; I bowed My stricken head and cried aloud. (Vast, vast the torment of a self-made woe.)

‘And it was then, and not before, That Eden shut and barred its door. Alone in God’s great world I seemed, Whilst thou of thy lost Lilith dreamed. (Oh, who can measure such wide loneliness.)

‘Now every little breeze that sings, Sighs Lilith, like thy whisperings. Oh, where can sorrow hide its face, When Lilith, Lilith, fills all space?’ (And Adam in the darkness spake no word.)

 

SUMMER’S FAREWELL

 

All in the time when Earth did most deplore The cold, ungracious aspect of young May, Sweet Summer came, and bade him smile once more; She wove bright garlands, and in winsome play She bound him willing captive. Day by day She found new wiles wherewith his heart to please; Or bright the sun, or if the skies were gray, They laughed together, under spreading trees, By running brooks, or on the sandy shores of seas.

They were but comrades. To that radiant maid No serious word he spake; no lovers’ plea. Like careless children, glad and unafraid, They sported in their opulence of glee. Her shining tresses floated wild and free; In simple lines her emerald garments hung; She was both good to hear, and fair to see; And when she laughed, then Earth laughed too, and flung His cares behind him, and grew radiant and young.

One golden day, as he reclined beneath The arching azure of enchanting skies, Fair Summer came, engirdled with a wreath Of gorgeous leaves all scintillant with dyes. Effulgent was she; yet within her eyes, There hung a quivering mist of tears unshed. Her crimson-mantled bosom shook with sighs; Above him bent the glory of her head; And on his mouth she pressed a splendid kiss, and fled.

THE GOAL

All roads that lead to God are good; What matters it, your faith, or mine; Both centre at the goal divine Of love’s eternal Brotherhood.

The kindly life in house or street; The life of prayer, and mystic rite; The student’s search for truth and light; These paths at one great junction meet.

Before the oldest book was writ, Full many a prehistoric soul Arrived at this unchanging goal, Through changeless love, that led to it.

What matters that one found his Christ In rising sun, or burning fire; If faith within him did not tire, His longing for the truth sufficed.

Before our ‘Christian’ hell was brought To edify a modern world, Full many a hate-filled soul was hurled In lakes of fire by its own thought.

A thousand creeds have come and gone; But what is that to you or me? Creeds are but branches of a tree, The root of love lives on and on.

Though branch by branch proves withered wood, The root is warm with precious wine; Then keep your faith, and leave me mine; ALL roads that lead to God are good.

CHRIST CRUCIFIED

Now ere I slept, my prayer had been that I might see my way To do the will of Christ, our Lord and Master, day by day; And with this prayer upon my lips, I knew not that I dreamed, But suddenly the world of night a pandemonium seemed. From forest, and from slaughter house, from bull ring, and from stall, There rose an anguished cry of pain, a loud, appealing call; As man—the dumb beast’s next of kin—with gun, and whip, and knife, Went pleasure-seeking through the earth, blood-bent on taking life. From trap, and cage, and house, and zoo, and street, that awful strain Of tortured creatures rose and swelled the orchestra of pain. And then methought the gentle Christ appeared to me, and spoke: ‘I called you, but ye answered not’—and in my fear I woke.

Then next I heard the roar of mills; and moving through the noise, Like phantoms in an underworld, were little girls and boys. Their backs were bent, their brows were pale, their eyes were sad and old; But by the labour of their hands greed added gold to gold. Again the Presence and the Voice: ‘Behold the crimes I see, As ye have done it unto these, so have ye done to me.’

Again I slept. I seemed to climb a hard, ascending track; And just behind me laboured one whose patient face was black. I pitied him; but hour by hour he gained upon the path; He stood beside me, stood upright—and then I turned in wrath. ‘Go back!’ I cried. ‘What right have you to walk beside me here? For you are black, and I am white.’ I paused, struck dumb with fear. For lo! the black man was not there, but Christ stood in his place; And oh! the pain, the pain, the pain that looked from that dear face.

Now when I woke, the air was rife with that sweet, rhythmic din Which tells the world that Christ has come to save mankind from sin. And through the open door of church and temple passed a throng, To worship Him with bended knee, with sermon, and with song. But over all I heard the cry of hunted, mangled things; Those creatures which are part of God, though they have hoofs and wings. I saw in mill, and mine, and shop, the little slaves of greed; I heard the strife of race with race, all sprung from one God-seed. And then I bowed my head in shame, and in contrition cried - ‘Lo, after nineteen hundred years, Christ still is Crucified.’

THE TRIP TO MARS

Oh! by and by we shall hear the cry, ‘This is the way to Mars.’ Come take a trip, on the morning Ship; It sails by the Isle of Stars.

‘A glorious view of planets new We promise by night and day. Past dying suns our good ship runs, And we pause at the Milky Way.’

I am almost sure we will take that tour Together, my dear, my dear. For, ever have we, by land and sea, Gone journeying far and near.

Out over the deep—o’er mountain steep, We have travelled mile on mile; And to sail away to the Martian Bay, Oh! that were a trip worth while.

Our ship will race through seas of space Up into the Realms of Light, Till the whirling ball of the earth grows small, And is utterly lost to sight.

Through the nebulous spawn where