Chapter II

The "Church Triumphant" shines in lives like thine,
Calista! 'Tis the Saints' procession, shown
In Dante's vision, near Lord Jesus' throne,
In greatening splendor, never to decline.
Ah, if our minds grow dark, our hearts repine,
How, from sweet lives, dear Sister, like thine own,
Be-Mothering with mercy all who moan,
A light comes, and a warmth is in its shine.

We shade our eyes, as when we face the Sun
On level with the earth, at lives all love--
The Church Triumphant, as in Heaven above!
Aye, lives all love for Christ, in every one
Who suffers wrong, or any pain thereof,
As on His Throne--such lives as thine, dear Nun.

WINIFRED HOLT, THE LIFESAVER OF THE BLIND

Once, blindness was a burning ship at sea,
With panic-stricken souls on every deck.
The flame blew inward on that awful wreck,
Burning the hopes that make life glad and free.
Ah! then, through thee, it was, Philanthropy,
Who trains her searchlight on the smallest speck
And Speed out boats, like horses, neck to neck,
Reached the dark hulk and thrilled its crew with glee.

The flame is quenched, that burned out heart and brain.
The ship where woe was mute, is loud with joy.
Hark! hear the cheer on board, and cry, "Ahoy!"
As fast the sails are hoisted, and the main
Tides back toward hope for every girl and boy,
Who, else, might reach no star of night's whole train.

A CHOICE

Above and under life, eternally,
A subtle light and dark run parallel.
One prompts men to build Beauty, cell by cell,
In Home, Religion, State, Society;
The other, to destroy the fair they see.
Like Spring, wilt thou roof Earth with bloom and dwell
Thereunder? or, with Scalping Winter's yell,
Scour grove and bush? Choose--how else art thou free?

If Freedom is the gift of the all-wise,
It is because he will not have a slave
To serve Him. Which wilt thou be, base or brave?
With Morn, climb, or, with Night, skulk down the skies
To grope in caverns, or beneath the wave,
Creep, till aghast at monsters that arise?

ALL LUMINARIES HAVE ONE TREND

All luminaries have one source, one trend.
The stars that calm the sailor, long sea-swirled,
And canopy fond lovers from the World,
And those that lead the heart and spirit, blend.
Lo, only in the things and thoughts that tend
Toward Love's High Harmony, is truth unfurled;
All else are lies, whence heart, soul, mind are hurled
Back to the Right--to Progress without end.

The stars all chant as one. My soaring song
Catches their flame and these few sparks reach earth:
"As soon the shells forget their Ocean birth,
As men forget the Right, where they belong
By reason and by soul of deathless worth;
Address the God in man, wouldst thou grow strong."

LIFE TAKES MORNING HUES WITH THE ARTS OF PEACE

America! from out the depths thy coast
Was lifted skyward for Humanity.
Thy Life, once finny circlings in the sea,
Is now the orbits of the starry host,
Encircling God with trust. Be this thy boast,
When the long line of Ages, passing thee,
Lifts each his heart and soul, and shouts with glee,
"That Trust in Him was Sentinel on post."

Night, that once boa-like hung from thy trees,
Gorged with crushed tribes--with pottery, or mound,
Or print of foot for trace--slinks underground;
For lo, the forests, like the mist on seas,
Clears, ere the Sun, at earth's edge, glows half-round,
And life takes cloud-hues with the arts of Peace.

U. S. SENATOR JAMES A. O'GORMAN AND THE STALWARTS

On toward the Senate scuds a thunder-rack--
Nay, cyclone--and the columns--all star-straight--
Of Freedom's Temple sway with the roof's flood-weight.
Ye Stalwarts who scorn off a fate, pitch-black,
Holding the columns, let no sinew slack.
A crash and through the roof, what floods of hate!
Still, ye budge not, for "Freedom," your teeth grate,
"Shall lie no wreck along the cyclone's track."

Oh, not for you was dark the time to slumber,
But to hold Freedom's columns all star-plumb!
Yours was a watery grave, but Martyrdom
And, hence, your resurrection with the number,
Whose greatness greatens, as the Ages come
To know why their pathway, no wrecks encumber.

MINISTER OF JUSTICE PALMER, A BASTILE BUILDER

O Bastile Builder! Nature, when she shaped
Thy soul, was stricken, with a long attack
Of sleeping sickness; nor till wheel and rack
Had rusted, and man spirit had escaped
The bolsted, loathesome tomb where right was raped,
Did she awaken and, alack! alack!
Deliver thee, who, put on Freedom's back,
Would'st grab all things, at which thy Past-eyes gaped.

Freedom would humor thee; so, down he flopped
On Justice's floor to watch thee build with blocks.
Great was thy skill with walls and dungeon locks,
And with the trap, down which poor Freedom dropped
To be steel-masked, or, else, put in the stocks,
To writhe, then, with his tongue and ears, both lopped.

A SPECK, BUT NOT A STAIN, HARVARD

O Harvard of the Norton wreath of gold
And pearled, Longfellow purple! wherefore frown?
If Eliott is a speck upon your gown,
It will wash off; it is no stain to hold,
For you had let him go for being old.
Your wisdom was confirmed when to the crown,
A'gainst good folks who, like Elisha Brown,
Fought for their homes, he gave his name's renown.

Come, Agassiz! for, from the smallest bone,
You reconstruct the creature, tongue to tail.
Tell us what Eliott is. Phew! What! a Whale?
No; tis the prehistoric monster, known
As Tory, that devoured young Nathan Hale
And, where it crawled, spread horror's crimson zone.

SUPREME COURT JUSTICE CHARLES L. GUY

Your heart is not a traitor to your mind.
Who, knowing innocence in danger, dares
Not turn his eye, for fear of smirk, or stares,
By other courts, is Justice's statue blind,
That to the wall, not Bench, should be assigned.
Oft, Precedent is Folly with gray hairs;
So you, recalling Junius, heard the prayers
Of friendless Stilow; then, what did you find?

A fellow man doomed wrongfully to die
A felon's death. If such was Stilow's fate,
You saw, the felon would have been the State;
Hence, turned from Precedent, demanding "Why?"
Justice, asleep in marble, woke and straight
Unroofed the courthouse to let down the sky.

REAR ADMIRAL SIMS

A Dukedom, and not one the worse for wear,
Has Sims well earned by service to the King.
'Tis said at court, Howe's spirit following
The ocean still, found Sims his natural heir
And said: "Swap souls; and, that the swap be fair,
Give me to boot, the bone of Freedom's wing,
To make the skyey bird a hobbling thing
In marshes, where the ignisfatus flare."

The Eagle with his eye and pinion, trained
For mateship with the sun, twitched at a sting.
Amazed to find a "cootie" on his wing,
And that the insect dreamed, it was ordained
By race heredity to serve the King--
He shook his plume and azured, unprofained.

SAINT GEORGE AND THE DRAGON