THE CONDEMNED

I dream I am a child once more. Not so;
I am just what I am: a man in prison

(Damn them! I'm innocent of what they swore

And proved with cant, and well-paid perjury;
Tho' other crimes, they know not of, I did) —
But suddenly my soul is pure as yours;
My thought as clean; my spirit is as free
As any man's, or any purest woman's.
I think as justly, as for instance, sir,
You think; as circumspectly, wisely, freely,
As does my jolly keeper, or the smith
Who enters once a day to try the bars

That shut my body out from freedom! Not

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My soul. Why, this my soul has thoughts that strike Into the very hights and depths of Heaven.

You'll think it passing strange, good friend, no doubt.
'Tis strange; but here's a further mystery:
Think you that in some other living state
After what we call death, or in this life,
The thinking part of us we name the soul
Can ever get away from its old self;
Can wash the earth all off from it, that so
It really will be, what I sometimes seem

As sinless as a little child at birth,

With all a woman's love for all things pure,
And all a grown man's strength to do the right?

THE CONDEMNED

THOU art not fit to die? Why not?
The fairest body ripes to rot.

Thy soul? O, why not let it go

Free from the flesh that drags it low!
To die! Poor wretch, do not deceive
Thyself who art not fit to live.

"SOW THOU SORROW"

Sow thou sorrow and thou shalt reap it;
Sow thou joy and thou shalt keep it.

TEMPTATION

Nor alone in pain and gloom,
Does the abhorrèd tempter come;
Not in light alone and pleasure
Proffers he the poisoned measure.
When the soul doth rise
Nearest to its native skies,

There the exalted spirit finds

Borne upon the heavenly winds

Satan, in an angel's guise,

With voice divine and innocent eyes.

A MIDSUMMER MEDITATION

I

-

FACE once the thought: This piled up sky of cloud,
Blue vastness, and white vastness steept in light,
Struck through with light, that centers in the sun,
This blue of waves below that meets blue sky;
But a white, trembling shore between, that sweeps
The circle of the bay; this green of woods,
And keener green of new-mown, grassy fields;
This ceaseless, leaf-like rustle of the waves;
These shining, billowy tree-tops; songs of birds;
Strong scent of seaweed, mixt with smell of pines;
Face once this thought: Thy spirit that looks forth,
That breathes the light, and life, and joy of all,
Shall cease, but not the things that pleasure thee;

VISIONS

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They shall endure for eyes like thine, but not For thine own eyes; for human hearts like thine, But not for thine own heart, all dust and dead.

II

Face it, O Spirit, then look up once more,
Brave conqueror of dull mortality!

Look

up

and be a part of all thou seest. Ocean and earth and miracle of sky,

All that thou seest, thou art, and without thee
Were nothing. Thou, a god, dost recreate
The whole; breathing thy soul in all, till all
Is one wide world made perfect at thy touch.
And know that thou, who darest a world create,
Art one with the Almighty, son to sire

Of His eternity a quenchless spark.

AS DOTH THE BIRD"

As doth the bird, on outstretched pinions, dare
The dread abysm's viewless air,

Take thou, my soul, thy fearless flight

Into the void and dark of death's eternal night.

VISIONS

I

CAST into the pit
Of lonely sorrow,
The suffering soul,
Looking aloft,

Sees with amaze
In the daytime sky

The shine of stars.

WHEN Christ cried: "It is done!"
The face of a small red flower,
Looking up to the suffering One,

Turned pale with love and pain,
And never shone red again.

In memory of that hour

THE PASSING OF CHRIST

Which holds the secret of bliss;

And the darker secret of sorrow

That shall come to each, to-morrow; Sweet friend, I send you this.

THE PASSING OF CHRIST

I

O MAN of light and lore!

Do you mean that in our day

The Christ hath past away;
That nothing now is divine
In the fierce rays that shine
Through every cranny and thought;
That Christ as he once was taught
Shall be the Christ no more?

That the Hope and Savior of men
Shall be seen no more again;

That, miracles being done,

Gone is the Holy One?

And thus, you hold, this Christ

For the past alone sufficed;

From the throne of the hearts of the world

The Son of God shall be hurled,

And henceforth must be sought

New prophets and kings of thought;
That the tenderest, truest word

The heart of sorrow hath heard
Shall sound no more upon earth;

That he who hath made of birth

A dread and sacred rite;

Who hath brought to the eyes of death

A vision of heavenly light,

Shall fade with our failing faith;

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