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THE WATCHMAN ON THE TOWER

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pinessworking miracles in culture of the soil, and in the cure of sickness; I behold Art going up and down the land, making homes and cities more beautiful; I behold Service honored above possessions; I see men as brothers, -in times of calm and in days of monstrous calamity, stretching hands to one another over lands and seas, and across the ancient barriers of race, and religion, and condition; I see the hearts of men go out, in new love and care and understanding, to the beasts of the field and to the birds of the air; I hear the voices of poets and prophets troubling the hearts and lifting up the souls of all mankind; and in all these I see the mind of the Son of Man, and the power of the Will Eternal. O Seer of Good and Evil, what else, what else?

Near by I behold the Angel of a People, and in his hand he bears a standard whereon is writ, in letters of light, the one word Truth; higher he bears the standard than ever before, and the people, in gathering numbers, follow the Word.

And what of the evil things that late thou sawest?

Still I see them, and many more, but fainter are they growing, as by some element of light consumed. Yet doth one strange and greatly evil thing loom with menace against the dawn-the shadow of false and self-seeking men who seize the banner of righteousness and with unclean hands uplift it, to the deceiving of many; and yet even here, I know, it is the love of Right and not of Wrong which doth mislead; and as the light increases, surely the pure in heart shall know their own and shun the deceiver of souls.

And what of the good that late thou sawest ?

O still I see the good, and with clearer eyes; and, lo, it

doth appear that, in the light of the New Dawn, greater and always greater grows the good, and nearer and always nearer. For now, with the rising sun, a company of angels in new flight lift their wings and come upon the day, and one is the bright Angel of Freedom, and one the strong Angel of Justice, and one is the undaunted Angel of Peace, and one the Angel of Hope Everlasting. With a great and wonderful burst of light they come, and with loud music of instruments and many voices.

O Watcher of the Dawn! thou seest what is, but canst thou see what yet shall be?

O ye who doubt! In the visible present lives the invisible future, and the hour that is brings the hour that shall be. If the Light grows, it shall not cease to grow; and the good that is brings the good that is to come. As with separate souls, so with peoples-the New Year, tho' it holds inheritance of shame and loss, holds, also, inheritance of striving, and accomplishment, and divine aspiration. Lo, the Light is climbing, not only of a New Year, but of a New Era for the awakening world.

UNDER THE STARS

A REQUIEM FOR AUGUSTUS SAINT-GAUDENS

I

O KINDRED stars, wherethrough his soul in flight
Past to the immortals! 'neath your ageless light
I stand perplext, remembering that keen spirit
Quenched in mid-strength; the world, that shall inherit
His legacy of genius, all deprived

Of wealth untold, the still ungathered fruit
Of that great art! What honey all unhived;
What unborn grandeurs; noble music mute!

UNDER THE STARS

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II

O silent stars! even as I harken here,

Heart-heavy, a murmurous and mysterious voice,
Blent with sweet wiry tones, on the inward ear
Strikes, and I hear the summons: “O rejoice,
Rejoice and mourn not!" Then that wondrous star
Now drawn near earth, named for the god of war,-
The fiery planet cries across the night:
"Victory, Victory, he hath won the fight!"

III

O star of fire! he was thy very child!

Mixt with his blood thy fierce, ensanguined ray! 'Gainst the proud forces of the sordid day

He battled valiantly, all unbeguiled

By what might tempt or foil a lesser soul.

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Not wealth, nor ease, nor praise unworthily won Could touch his spirit; "There the swift course to run!" "There, there, O see! the bright, immortal goal!"

IV

Thou star of blood and battle! rich and sweet
Thy liquid gleam, where, in the twilight sky,
Thou shinest greatly! So did his art repeat
Thy strength, thy loveliness; thy ministry,-
In a dark, harmful world, of Beauty's guerdon; -
Beauty that broods, enlightens, and makes endure
The heart of man beneath its heavy burden,
Lifting above the strife a deathless lure.

V

O starry skies! O palpitant winds whose throbbings
From out the vast of heaven pulse and flow!
In light and sound eterne our human sobbings

Are lost.

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How dear to him who lieth low

The garment wonderful wild nature throws
About its inner life: green glades withdrawn;
Anger of ocean; radiance of the rose;
The pomp superb of sunset and of dawn.

VI

White, trembling fires of the unknown universe!
Ye speak of some august, inscrutable Power
Creative, from whose hand, to bless or curse,
Ye were sent forth thrillingly, in an hour
Of force stupendous, swift, immeasurable;
To-night those unconsuming fires tell

Of one who, in the splendor of his passion,
Alas! tho' mortal, could the immortal fashion.

VII

O stars that sing as in creation's prime!
He whom, with love and tears, we celebrate,
He, like the Power that made ye, could create
Bringing to birth new beauty for all time:
Once, lo! these shapes were not, now do they live,
And shall forever in the hearts of men;

And from their life new life shall spring again,
To souls unborn new light and joy to give.

VIII

Ye stars, all music to the spirit's ear!
Before the imperial music-masters knelt
This master of an art sublime, austere;
The very soul of music in him dwelt,

So in his lines the haunting strains of lyres,
From gracious forms deep tones symphonic spring;
Once more we hear the sound of heavenly wires,
Again the stars of morn together sing.

UNDER THE STARS

427

IX

Red star of war! thy sons did he enshrine
In glorious art - fighters on sea and land;
In bronze they give again the brave command;
In bronze they march resistless, in divine
Ecstasy of devotion, not in wrath;

The fire and fury of battle he made real,
But like God's prophets moved they on their path
Led and uplifted by the great Ideal.

X

O fateful stars! that lit the climbing way

Of that dear, martyred son of fate and fame,— soul of an immortal day,

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Linked with his name is our great sculptor's name;
For now in art eternal breathes again

The gaunt, sweet presence of our chief of men
That soul of tenderness; that spirit stern,
Whose fires divine forever flame and burn.

ΧΙ

Stars of white midnight! tho' unseen by day,
Imagined! He the unseen could subtly see
And image forth in most divine array:
Blest Charity, and Love, and Loyalty,
And Victory, and Grief; and, with a touch
Made tender by heroic years of pain,

Telling in art what words might not contain,-
The calm, sweet face of Him who suffered much.

XII

Mysterious sky! where orbs constellate reign!

Toward which the heart of man through endless ages

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