p. 88With her eyes of a child in a woman’s face, and her soul of a saint in an elf. She had been gone for many a year. They tell us it is not far— That silent place where the dear ones go, but it might as well be a star. Yes, it might as well be a distant star as a beautiful Near-by Land, If we hear no voice, and see no face, and feel no touch of a hand. p. 88 But now she had come, for I saw her there, and she looked so blithe and young; (Not white and still, as I saw her last) and the rose that she wore was red; And her voice soared up in a bird-like trill, at the end of the song she sung, And she mimicked a soldier’s warlike stride, and tossed back her dear little head. She had gone for many a year, and never came back before; But I think she dwells in a Near-by Land, since song jarred open the door; p. 89Yes, I think it is surely a Near-by Land, that place where our loved ones are, For the song would never have reached her ear had she been on a distant star. p. 89 Two roadways lead from this land to That, and one is the road of Prayer, And one is the road of Old-time Songs, and every note is a stair. p. 90OH, POOR, SICK WORLD p. 90 Lord of all the Universe, when I think of YOU, Flinging stars out into space, moving suns and tides; Then this little mortal mind gets the larger view, And the carping self of me runs away and hides. Then I see all shadowed paths leading out to Light; See the false things fade away, leaving but the True; See the wrong things slay themselves, leaving only Right; When this little mortal mind gets the larger view. Cavillings at this and that, censure, doubt and fear, Fly, as fly before the dawn, insects of the night; Life and Death are understood; everything seems clear, All the wrong things slay themselves, leaving only Right. p. 91The World has walked with fever in its veins For many and many a day. Oh, poor, sick world! Not knowing all its dreams of greed and gain, Of selfish conquest and possession, were Disordered visions of a brain diseased. p. 91 Now the World’s malady is at its height And there is foul contagion in its breath. It raves of death and slaughter; and the stars Shake with reverberations of its cries,
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