The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems Part 35

On all things--high or low, or great or small-- Earth, ocean, mountain, mammoth, midge and man, On mind and matter--lo perpetual change-- G.o.d's fiat--stamped! The very bones of man Change as he grows from infancy to age.

His loves, his hates, his tastes, his fancies, change.

His blood and brawn demand a change of food; His mind as well: the sweetest harp of heaven Were hateful if it played the selfsame tune Forever, and the fairest flower that gems The garden, if it bloomed throughout the year, Would blush unsought. The most delicious fruits Pall on our palate if we taste too oft, And Hyblan honey turns to bitter gall.

Perpetual winter is a reign of gloom; Perpetual summer hardly pleases more.

Behold the Esquimau--the Hottentot: This doomed to regions of perpetual ice, And that to constant summer's heat and glow: Inferior both, both gloomy and unblessed.

The home of happiness and plenty lies Where autumn follows summer and the breath Of spring melts into rills the winter's snows.

How gladly, after summer's blazing suns, We hail the autumn frosts and autumn fruits: How blithesome seems the fall of feathery snow When winter comes with merry clang of bells: And after winter's reign of ice and storm How glad we hail the robins of the spring.

For G.o.d hath planted in the hearts of men The love of change, and sown the seeds of change In earth and air and sea and sh.o.r.eless s.p.a.ce.

Day follows night and night the dying day, And every day--and every hour--is change; From when on dewy hills the rising dawn Sprinkles her mists of silver in the east, Till in the west the golden dust up-wheels Behind the chariot of the setting sun; From when above the hills the evening star Sparkles a diamond 'mong the grains of gold, Until her last faint flicker on the sea.

The voices of the h.o.a.r and hurrying years Cry from the silence--"Change!--perpetual Change!"

Man's heart responding throbs--"Perpetual Change,"

And grinds like a mill-stone: wanting grists of change It grinds and grinds upon its troubled self.

Behold the flowers that spring and bloom and fade.

Behold the blooming maid: the song of larks Is in her warbling throat; the blue of heaven Is in her eyes; her loosened tresses fall A shower of gold on shoulders tinged with rose; Her form a seraph's and her gladsome face A benediction. Lo beneath her feet The loving crocus bursts in sudden bloom.

Fawn-eyed and full of gentleness she moves-- A sunbeam on the lawn. The hearts of men Follow her footsteps. He whose sinewy arms Might burst through bars of steel like bands of straw, Caught in the net of her unloosened hair, A helpless prisoner lies and loves his chains.

Blow, ye soft winds, from sandal-shaded isle, And bring the _mogra's_ breath and orange-bloom.

Fly, fleet-winged doves, to Ponce de Leon's spring, And in your bills bring her the pearls of youth; For lo the fingers of relentless Time Weave threads of silver in among the gold, And seam her face with pain and carking care, Till, bent and bowed, the shriveled hands of Death Reach from the welcome grave and draw her in.

FIDO

Hark, the storm is raging high; Beat the breakers on the coast, And the wintry waters cry Like the wailing of a ghost.

On the rugged coast of Maine Stands the frugal farmer's cot: What if drive the sleet and rain?

John and Hannah heed it not.

On the hills the mad winds roar, And the tall pines toss and groan; Round the headland--down the sh.o.r.e-- Stormy spirits shriek and moan.

Inky darkness wraps the sky; Not a glimpse of moon or star; And the stormy-petrels cry Out along the harbor-bar.

Seated by their blazing hearth-- John and Hannah--snug and warm-- What if darkness wrap the earth?

Drive the sleet and howl the storm!

Let the stormy-petrels fly!

Let the moaning breakers beat!

Hark! I hear an infant cry And the patter of baby-feet:

And Hannah listened as she spoke, But only heard the driving rain, As on the cottage-roof it broke And pattered on the window-pane.

And she sat knitting by the fire While p.u.s.s.y frolicked at her feet; And ever roared the tempest higher, And ever harder the hailstones beat.

"Hark! the cry--it comes again!"

"Nay, it is the winds that wail, And the patter on the pane Of the driving sleet and hail"

Replied the farmer as he piled The crackling hemlock on the coals, And lit his corn-cob pipe and smiled The smile of sweet contented souls.

Aye, let the storm rave o'er the earth; Their kine are snug in barn and byre; The apples sputter on the hearth, The cider simmers on the fire.

But once again at midnight high, She heard in dreams, through wind and sleet, An infant moan, an infant cry, And the patter of baby-feet.

Half-waking from her dreams she turned And heard the driving wind and rain; Still on the hearth the f.a.gots burned, And hail beat on the window-pane.

John rose as wont, at dawn of day; The earth was white with frozen sleet; And lo his faithful Fido lay Dead on the door-stone at his feet.

THE REIGN OF REASON

The day of truth is dawning. I behold O'er darksome hills the trailing robes of gold And silent footsteps of the gladsome dawn.

The morning breaks by sages long foretold; Truth comes to set upon the world her throne.

Men lift their foreheads to the rising sun, And lo the reign of Reason is begun.

Fantastic phantasms fly before the light-- Pale, gibbering ghosts and ghouls and goblin fears: Man who hath walked in sleep--what thousands years?

Groping among the shadows of the night, Moon-struck and in a weird somnambulism, Mumbling some cunning cant or catechism, Thrilled by the electric magic of the skies-- Sun-touched by Truth--awakes and rubs his eyes.

Old Superst.i.tion, mother of cruel creeds, O'er all the earth hath sown her dragon-teeth.

Lo centuries on centuries the seeds Grew rank, and from them all the haggard breeds Of Hate and Fear and h.e.l.l and cruel Death.

And still her sunken eyes glare on mankind; Her livid lips grin horrible; her hands, Shriveled to bone and sinew, clutch all lands And with blind fear lead on or drive the blind.

Ah ignorance and fear go hand in hand, Twin-born, and broadcast scatter hate and thorns, They people earth with ghosts and h.e.l.l with horns, And sear the eyes of truth with burning brand.

Behold, the serried ranks of Truth advance, And stubborn Science shakes her s.h.i.+ning lance Full in the face of stolid Ignorance.

But Superst.i.tion is a monster still-- An Hydra we may scotch but hardly kill; For if with sword of Truth we lop a head, How soon another groweth in its stead!

All men are slaves. Yea, some are slave to wine And some to women, some to s.h.i.+ning gold, But all to habit and to customs old.

Around our stunted souls old tenets twine And it is hard to straighten in the oak The crook that in the sapling had its start: The callous neck is glad to wear the yoke; Nor reason rules the head, but aye the heart: The head is weak, the throbbing heart is strong; But where the heart is right the head is not far wrong.

Men have been learning error age on age, And superst.i.tion is their heritage Bequeathed from age to age and sire to son Since the dim history of the world begun.

Trust paves the way for treachery to tread; Under the cloak of virtue vices creep; Fools chew the chaff while cunning eats the bread, And wolves become the shepherds of the sheep.

The mindless herd are but the cunning's tools; For ages have the learned of the schools Furnished pack-saddles for the backs of fools.

Pale Superst.i.tion loves the gloom of night; Truth, like a diamond, ever loves the light.

But still 'twere wrong to speak but in abuse, For priests and popes have had, and have, their use.

Yea, Superst.i.tion since the world began Hath been an instrument to govern man: For men were brutes, and brutal fear was given To chain the brute till Reason came from heaven.

Aye, men were beasts for lo how many ages!

And only fear held them in chains and cages.

Wise men were priests, and gladly I accord They were the priests and prophets of the Lord; For love was l.u.s.t and o'er all earth's arena h.e.l.l-fire alone could tame the wild hyena.

All history is the register, we find, Of the crimes and l.u.s.ts and sufferings of mankind; And there are still dark lands where it is well That Superst.i.tion wear the horns of h.e.l.l, And hold her torches o'er the brutal head, And fright the beast with fire and goblin dread Till Reason come the darkness to dispel.

How hard it is for mortals to unlearn Beliefs bred in the marrow of their bones!

How hard it is for mortals to discern The truth that preaches from the silent stones, The silent hills, the silent universe, While Error cries in sanctimonious tones That all the light of life and G.o.d is hers!

Lo in the midst we stand: we cannot see Either the dark beginning or the end, Or where our tottering footsteps turn or trend In the vast orbit of Eternity.

Let Reason be our light--the only light That G.o.d hath given unto benighted man, Wherewith to see a glimpse of his vast plan And stars of hope that glimmer on our night.

Lo all-pervading Unity is His; Lo all-pervading Unity is He: One mighty heart throbs in the earth and sea, In every star through heaven's immensity, And G.o.d in all things breathes, in all things is.

G.o.d's perfect order rules the vast expanse, And Love is queen and all the realms are hers; But strike one planet from the Universe And all is chaos and unbridled chance.

And is there life beyond this life below?

Aye, is death death?--or but a happy change From night to light--on angel wings to range, And sing the songs of seraphs as we go?