Chapter IX

Is it Apocalyptic Vision, when
White-winged Columbus swoops from Spain's palmed shore
And, from dark depths, lifts at San Salvador,
A continent, adrip with streams which, then,
Become the fountain of the Psalmist's ken,
Where Right the heart, from hoof to horn foam-hoar
From craggy speed, slakes thirst, and, evermore,
Comes Hope's whole clattering herd?--you chant, "Amen."

Aye, for your sires made earth this new creation
Where, from San Salvadore and Plymouth Reef
To Westward Mission Trails, ascends belief
In God and, therefore, in the Soul's Salvation
Through Freedom, in white, spiral spray which grief
Sees, spite earth-mists, or solar obscuration.

SONNETS

FREEDOM, TRUTH AND BEAUTY

THE PROEM

Soar thou aloft, though thou ascend alone,
O Human Spirit! Thou canst not be lost.
What though yon stars, the azure's nightly frost
Melt dark, or mount round thee an arctic zone!
Thou hast sun-warmth and star-source of thine own.
If thou mount not, how bitter is the cost!
What anguish, when whirled down, or tempest tossed,
To know how high toward God thou mightst have flown!

Vault Godward, Poet. What though few may climb
The mountain and the star on trail of thee?
Thy wing-flash beams toward Man, and, if it be
True inspiration--whether thought sublime,
Or fervor for the Truth, or Liberty--
Thy light will reach the earth in goodly time.

THE ATLANTIC

Forming the great Atlantic, see God take
The mist from woe's white mountain, spring and stream,
The breath of man in frost, the spiral lean
From roof-cracked caves where, though the heart may break,
The soul will not lie torpid, like the snake,--
And battle smoke. On them He breathes with dream
And, Lo! an Angel with a sword agleam
'Twix the Old World and New for Justice's sake.

What sea so broad, as that from Human weeping?
Or Sun so flaming, as the Angel's sword
Of Human and Devine Wills in accord?
There, with sword-flash of myriad waves, joy-leaping,
Shall loom forever, Freedom's watch and ward,
With the New World in his Seraphic keeping.

HUMAN FREEDOM

This is thy glory, Man, that thou art free.
'Tis in thy freedom, thy resemblance lies
To thy Creator. Nature, which, tide-wise,
Is flood and ebb, bounds not sky flight for thee.
Lo! as the sun arises from the sea,
Startling all beauty God-ward, thou dost rise
With mind to God in heaven, from finite ties,
And there, in freedom, thou art great as He.

Meeting thy God with mind, 'tis thine to choose,
Wheather to follow him with love and soar,
Or dream Him myth and, rather than adore,
Plunge headlong into Nature's whirl and ooze.
Thine is full freedom. Ah! could God do more
To liken thee to Him, and love, infuse?

THE STARS

God loves the stars; else why star-shape the dew
For the unbreathing, shy, heart-hiding rose?
And when earth darkens, and the North wind blows,
Why into stars, flake every cloud's black brew?
What fitter forms for longings high and true,
Man's hopes, ideals, than bright orbs like those
Asbine from Nature's dawn to Nature's close,
In clusters, prisming every dazzling hue?

Nor is the Sun with harvests in its heat,
And that, sky-hidden, makes the moon at night,
An earth-ward cascade for its leaps of light,
More real, or a world force more complete,
Than Faith and Hope, that brake through clouds with sight
Of evil's foil and ultimate defeat.

THE GENESIS OF FREEDOM

I

O Freedom! Born amid resplendent spheres,
And, with God-like creative power, endowed,
Hast thou, to human life's blue depths, not vowed
A splendor, not alone like that which 'pears
At present, where the upper asure clears,
But that the Nebulae will yet unshroud?
I hear thy far off cry where thou art lone,
A John the Baptist: "Lo! one greater nears."

What is this Greater--this which is to meet
The planets and ascend high, high and higher?
The right of human spirit to aspire
And mount, unhampered--and by act, complete
Creations harmony, as by desire,
Proclaimed by brain with throb, by heart with beat.

II

In thy descent through azures, all aglow
With circling spheres, the beauty of each blaze,
And grandeur, then, of all, entrance thy gaze.
Thou thinkest, why not thus all life below?
Perceiving, then that all the breezes blow
Upward and onward, in the skyey maze,
Thou wouldst go back and start with them, to raise
A new creation from chaotic throe.

Thou seest plainly that without that breeze,
The breath of God, all that thou couldst create,
Were lifeless, save to turn on thee with hate,
And chase an age with grim atrocities;
But with that breath, thou couldst raise life to mate
The Planet's splendor, in the azures Peace.