Classic Poem

She wakes! She comes! The earth is flower-fragrant
With fresh aroma of her dewy breath;
Her woman-wisdom, now so long a vagrant,
Shall dig away the upas roots of death;
She shall not cry aloud where truth is heard,
But life shall thunder in her gentlest word.

Then toss your heads, ye trees, in sacred laughter,
And kiss their leaves, ye breezes of the west;
Let all the four winds, bearing incense, waft her
The urge of energy, the joy of rest,
Until the soul, from life's late-opened pages.
Shall sing for earth God's anthem of the ages.

The challenge from her peaceful trumpets shrilling
Blares nevermore the bugle's battle word;
Her gentle spirit all the world is thrilling,
And all shall yield them to the silent sword
That kills all hate and greed, their hosts defying,
Swift as the light across the ether flying.

“Honour and arms” no more the future's warder,
The law of love shall be our constant light
Till Justice fill the world with truth and order
And beat to dust the ramparts of the night.
Temples shall rise in silence everywhere
Whose walls are reverence, whose altars, prayer.

Far o'er the hills I hear a song of gladness:
Behold they come; a brave and humble few,
Facing the storm of selfishness and madness,
Shall prove 'tis wisdom to be kind and true;
Their task to make our human laws divine.
And every home a consecrated shrine.

In that high task, the wonder touch of woman
Shall add to strength such grace and symmetry,
The towers of life shall then be wholly human
With corner-stones of law and liberty.
So righteousness shall find its full release
In lives of perfect beauty, power and peace.

For woman's soul is a mysterious ocean,
A spring, a revolutionary sun,
A thunder-flame of rare, intense emotion
When full-controlled her noble senses run;
A watcher on the walls of life is she
To warn and guide in roads of destiny.

Our condemnation is her tragic lateness;
How long her mission was not understood!
How could she love a man devoid of greatness
Unless in pity or in saviourhood?
Her powers were latent till the night was gone;
Her rising is the glory of the dawn.

No more for her a dreary, dull stagnation,
The constant boredom of a minor part;
Stern purpose hers, the passion of creation,
Not through a marriage that betrays the heart
With luxury by affluence supplied,
Or economic ease to toil denied.

Hers is a lion love sincere and regal,
Not meek submission of a bruisèd flower,
Nor perfumed wantonness, though wholly legal,
Void of reality or faith or power.
Her forces all from God derivèd are,
Deep-rooted in the ancient years afar.

Woman shall be in the new era dawning,
Not in the gardens of Hesperides
With lovers who upon her beauty fawning,
Connive the forfeit of her liberties;
But she shall love and work and greatly live,
Adding to life what man could never give:

A kindlier spirit and a clearer vision
Tuned to the music of a gentler heart;
A keener judgment, a more just decision,
A finer and more comprehensive art
That all the while in bell-toned chords are pealing
Around the world the comfort of God's healing.

Strike the white iron ere it dim to redness.
Ere sunset shadows mourn for ancient noon;
Before the fires of life are dulled to deadness,
As when earth's image hides the eclipsèd moon.
The flame creative bans the base alloy,
And courage is the only road to joy.

Manhood shall feel the tingling touch magnetic
Of hope that holds him firm in mighty tasks;
Woman, alert with life and energetic,
Shall cease from posing 'neath her subtle masks,
And be the splendid soul none can but love,
True as the suns in the pure night above.

I heard a radiant being in her praise
Break forth in song, while his enraptured gaze
Seemed fixed on some dear face—his own dream-haunted—
That love had framed in memory's mystic sight,
And hung against the sunset skies undaunted,
Knowing her beauty must outflame the light.

“I heard a calling in the stilly watches—
A voice that pealed like soft-toned bells afar:
The solemn pendulum ticked in its notches,
But in my soul was joy's intensive star;
I knew the call, and yet, this I aver,
I more than half believe 'twas I called her.