Poems by Mary Baker Eddy Part 2

'Mid graves do I hear the glad voices that swell, And call to my spirit with seraphs to dwell; They come with a breath from the verdant springtime, And waken my joy, as in earliest prime.

Blest beings departed! Ye echoes at dawn!

O tell of their radiant home and its morn!

Then I'll think of its glory, and rest till I see My loved ones in glory still waiting for me.

_UPWARD_

I've watched in the azure the eagle's proud wing, His soaring majestic, and feathersome fling-- Careening in liberty higher and higher-- Like genius unfolding a quenchless desire.

Would a tear dim his eye, or pinion lose power To gaze on the lark in her emerald bower?

When higher he soareth to compa.s.s his rest, What vision so bright as the dream in his breast!

G.o.d's eye is upon him. He penciled his path Whose omniscient notice the frail fledgling hath.

Though lightnings be lurid and earthquakes may shock, He rides on the whirlwind or rests on the rock.

My course, like the eagle's, oh, still be it high, Celestial the breezes that waft o'er its sky!

G.o.d's eye is upon me--I am not alone When onward and upward and heavenward borne.

Written in early years.

_THE OAK ON THE MOUNTAIN'S SUMMIT_

Oh, mountain monarch, at whose feet I stand,-- Clouds to adorn thy brow, skies clasp thy hand,-- Nature divine, in harmony profound, With peaceful presence hath begirt thee round.

And thou, majestic oak, from yon high place Guard'st thou the earth, asleep in night's embrace,-- And from thy lofty summit, pouring down Thy sheltering shade, her noonday glories crown?

Whate'er thy mission, mountain sentinel, To my lone heart thou art a power and spell; A lesson grave, of life, that teacheth me To love the Hebrew figure of a tree.

Faithful and patient be my life as thine; As strong to wrestle with the storms of time; As deeply rooted in a soil of love; As grandly rising to the heavens above.

_WOMAN'S RIGHTS_

Grave on her monumental pile; She won from vice, by virtue's smile, Her dazzling crown, her sceptered throne, Affection's wreath, a happy home;

The right to wors.h.i.+p deep and pure, To bless the orphan, feed the poor; Last at the cross to mourn her Lord, First at the tomb to hear his word;

To fold an angel's wings below; And hover o'er the couch of woe; To nurse the Bethlehem babe so sweet, The right to sit at Jesus' feet;

To form the bud for bursting bloom, The h.o.a.ry head with joy to crown; In short, the right to work and pray, "To point to heaven and lead the way."

Lynn, Ma.s.s., _May 6, 1876_.

_THE NEW CENTURY_

Thou G.o.d-crowned, patient century, Thine hour hath come! Eternity Draws nigh--and, beckoning from above, One hundred years, aflame with Love, Again shall bid old earth good-by-- And, lo, the light! far heaven is nigh!

New themes seraphic, Life divine, And bliss that wipes the tears of time Away, will enter, when they may, And bask in one eternal day.

'Tis writ on earth, on leaf and flower: Love hath one race, one realm, one power.

Dear G.o.d! how great, how good Thou art To heal humanity's sore heart; To probe the wound, then pour the balm-- A life perfected, strong and calm.

The dark domain of pain and sin Surrenders--Love doth enter in, And peace is won, and lost is vice: Right reigns, and blood was not its price.

Pleasant View, Concord, N. H., _January, 1901_.

_TO MY ABSENT BROTHER_

Dwells there a shadow on thy brow-- A look that years impart?

Does there a thought of vanished hours Come ever o'er thy heart?

Or give those earnest eyes yet back An image of the soul, Mirrored in truth, in light and joy, Above the world's control?

So may their gaze be ever fraught With utterance deep and strong, Yielding a holy strength to right, A stern rebuke to wrong!

Thy soul, upborne on wisdom's wings, In brighter morn will find Life hath a higher recompense Than just to please mankind.

Supreme and omnipresent G.o.d, Guide him in wisdom's way!

Give peaceful triumph to the truth, Bid error melt away!

Lynn, Ma.s.s., _November 8, 1866_.

_SIGNS OF THE HEART_

Come to me, joys of heaven!

Breathe through the summer air A balm--the long-lost leaven Dissolving death, despair!

O little heart, To me thou art A sign that never can depart.