A Backward Glance at Eighty Part 17

And when the story shall be told Of direful ruin, loss, and dearth, There shall be said with pride and joy: "But man survived, and proved his worth."

SAN FRANCISCO

O "city loved around the world,"

Triumphant over direful fate, Thy flag of honor never furled, Proud guardian of the Golden Gate;

Hold thou that standard from the dust Of lower ends or doubtful gain; On thy good sword no taint of rust; On stars and stripes no blot or stain.

Thy loyal sons by thee shall stand, Thy highest purpose to uphold; Proclaim the word, o'er all the land, That truth more precious is than gold.

Let justice never be denied, Resist the wrong, defend the right; Where West meets East stand thou in pride Of n.o.ble life,--a beacon-light.

THE NEW YEAR

The past is gone beyond recall, The future kindly veils its face; Today we live, today is all We have or need, our day of grace.

The world is G.o.d's, and hence 'tis plain That only wrong we need to fear; 'Tis ours to live, come joy or pain, To make more blessed each New Year.

PRODIGALS

We tarry in a foreign land, With pleasure's husks elate, When robe and ring and Father's hand At home our coming wait.

DEEP-ROOTED

Fierce Boreas in his wildest glee a.s.sails in vain the yielding tree That, rooted deep, gains strength to bear, And proudly lifts its head in air.

When loss or grief, with sharp distress, To man brings brunt of storm and stress, He stands serene who calmly bends In strength that trust, deep-rooted, lends.

TO HORATIO STEBBINS

The sun still s.h.i.+nes, and happy, blithesome birds Are singing on the swaying boughs in bloom.

My eyes look forth and see no sign of gloom, No loss casts shadow on the grazing herds; And yet I bear within a grief that words Can ne'er express, for in the silent tomb Is laid the body of my friend, the doom Of silence on that matchless voice. Now girds My spirit for the struggle he would praise.

A leader viewless to the mortal eye Still guides my steps, still calls with clarion cry To deeds of honor, and my thoughts would raise To seek the truth and share the love on high.

With loyal heart I'll follow all my days.

NEW YEAR, 1919

The sifting sand that marks the pa.s.sing year In many-colored tints its course has run Through days with shadows dark, or bright with sun, But hope has triumphed over doubt and fear, New radiance flows from stars that grace our flag.

Our fate we ventured, though full dark the night, And faced the fatuous host who trusted might.

G.o.d called, the country's lovers could not lag, Serenely trustful, danger grave despite, Untrained, in love with peace, they dared to fight, And freed a threatened world from peril dire, Establis.h.i.+ng the majesty of right.

Our loyal hearts still burn with sacred fire, Our spirits' wings are plumed for upward flight.

NEW YEAR, 1920

The curtain rises on the all-world stage, The play is unannounced; no prologue's word Gives hint of scene, or voices to be heard; We may be called with tragedy to rage, In comedy or farce we may disport, With feverish melodrama we may thrill, Or in a pantomimic role be still.

We may find fame in field, or grace a court, Whate'er the play, forthwith its lines will start, And every soul, in cloister or in mart, Must act, and do his best from day to day-- So says the prompter to the human heart.

"The play's the thing," might Shakespear's Hamlet say.

"The thing," to us, is playing well our part.