Poems of Experience Part 7

THE TRIP TO MARS

Oh! by and by we shall hear the cry, 'This is the way to Mars.'

Come take a trip, on the morning s.h.i.+p; It sails by the Isle of Stars.

'A glorious view of planets new We promise by night and day.

Past dying suns our good s.h.i.+p runs, And we pause at the Milky Way.'

I am almost sure we will take that tour Together, my dear, my dear.

For, ever have we, by land and sea, Gone journeying far and near.

Out over the deep--o'er mountain steep, We have travelled mile on mile; And to sail away to the Martian Bay, Oh! that were a trip worth while.

Our s.h.i.+p will race through seas of s.p.a.ce Up into the Realms of Light, Till the whirling ball of the earth grows small, And is utterly lost to sight.

Through the nebulous sp.a.w.n where planets are born, We shall pa.s.s with sails well furled, And with eager eyes we will scan the skies, For the sights of a new-made world.

From the derelict barque of a sun gone dark, Adrift on our fair s.h.i.+p's path, A beacon star shall guide us afar, And far from the comet's wrath.

Oh! many a start of pulse and heart We have felt at the sights of land.

But what would we do if the dream came true, And we sighted the Martian strand?

So, if some day you come and say, They are sailing to Mars, I hear.

I want you to know I am ready to go, - All ready, my dear, my dear.

FICTION AND FACT

In books I read, how men have lived and died, With hopeless love deep in their bosoms hidden.

While she for whom they long in secret sighed, Went on her way, nor guessed this flame unbidden.

In real life, I never chanced to see The woman who was loved, and did not know it, And observation proves this fact to me: No man can love a woman and not show it.

PROGRESS

There is no progress in the world of bees, However wise and wonderful they are.

Their wisdom makes not increase. Lies the bar, To wider goals, in that tense strife to please A Sovereign Ruler? Forth from flowers to trees Their little quest is; not from star to star.

This is not growth; the mighty avatar Comes not to do his work with such as these.

So in the world of men; when legions toil To feed a Monarch, and begem a crown, They build before high heaven a narrowing wall And the great purpose of Creation spoil.

Not on, and upward, is the trend, but down; The Race can rise but with the rise of all.

HOW THE WHITE ROSE CAME

The roses all were pink and red, Before the b.u.mble Bee, A lover bold, with cloak of gold, Came singing merrily Along the sunlit ways that led From woodland, and from lea.

He paused beside an opening rose, The garden's pet and pride; She burst in flower that very hour, While wooing zephyrs sighed; No smile had she for one of those, And hope within them died.

The ardent b.u.t.terfly in vain On radiant wings drew near; The hapless moth in vain grew wroth - The fair rose leaned to hear The deep-voiced stranger's low refrain That thrilled upon her ear.

She gave her heart in love's delight And let the whole world see; Alas! one day, away, away, Sped truant b.u.mble Bee; 'Twas then the red rose turned to white - So was the tale told me.

I LOOK TO SCIENCE

I look to Science for the cure of Crime; To patient righting of a thousand wrongs; To final healing of a thousand ills.

Blind runner now, and cruel egotist It yet leads on to more than mortal sight, And the large knowledge that means humbleness, And tender love for all created things.

I look to Science for the Coming Race Growing from seed selected; and from soil Love fertilised; and pruned by wisdom's hand, Till out of mortal man spring demi-G.o.ds, Strong primal creatures with awakened souls And normal pa.s.sions, governed by the will, Leaving a trail of glory where they tread.

I look to Science for the growth of faith.

That bold denier of accepted creeds - That mighty doubter of accepted truths - Shall yet reveal G.o.d's secrets to the world, And prove the facts it seeks to overthrow.

And a new name shall Science henceforth bear - The Great Religion of the Universe.

APPRECIATION

They prize not most the opulence of June Who from the year's beginning to its close Dwell, where unfading verdure tireless grows, And where sweet summer's harp is kept in tune.

We must have listened to the winter's rune, And felt impatient longings for the rose, Ere its full radiance on our vision glows, Or with its fragrant soul, we can commune.

Not they most prize life's blessings, and delights, Who walk in safe and sunny paths alway.

But those, who, groping in the darkness, borrow Pale rays from hope, to lead them through the night, And in the long, long watches wait for day.

He knows not joy who has not first known sorrow.

THE AWAKENING

I love the tropics, where sun and rain Go forth together, a joyous train, To hold up the green, gay side of the world, And to keep earth's banners of bloom unfurled.