And told me I must be content without you, I would weary them so with my lonesome cries, And the ceaseless questions I asked about you, They would open the gates and set me free, Or else they would find you and bring you to me. p. 91PETITION p. 91 God, may Thy loving Spirit work, In heart of Russian, and of Turk, Until throughout each clime and land, Armenian and Jew may stand, And claim the right of every soul To seek by its own path, the goal. Parts of the Universal Force, Rills from the same eternal Source Back to that Source, all races go. God, help Thy world to see it so. p. 92A WAFT OF PERFUME p. 92 A waft of perfume from a bit of lace Moved lightly by a passing woman’s hand; And on the common street, a sensuous grace Shone suddenly from some lost time and land. Tall structures changed to dome and parapet; The stern-faced Church an oracle became; In sheltered alcoves marble busts were set; And on the wall frail Lais wrote her name. Phryne before her judges stood at bay, Fearing the rigour of Athenian laws; Till Hyperides tore her cloak away, And bade her splendid beauty plead its cause. p. 93Great Alexander walking in the dusk, Dreamed of the hour when Greek with Greek should meet; From Thais’ window attar breathed, and musk: His footsteps went no farther down the street. p. 93 Faint and more faint the pungent perfume grew; Of wall and parapet remained no trace. Temple and statue vanished from the view: The city street again was commonplace. p. 94THE PLOUGH p. 94 If you listen you will hear, from east to west, Growing sounds of discontent and deep unrest. It is just the progress-driven plough of God, Tearing up the well-worn custom-bounded sod; Shaping out each old tradition-trodden track Into furrows, fertile furrows, rich and black. Oh, what harvests they will yield When they widen to a field. They will widen, they will broaden, day by day, As the Progress-driven plough keeps on its way. It will riddle all the ancient roads that lead Into palaces of selfishness and greed; It will tear
Prev.
Back
Top