Chapter III

No thing in the world to the heart seems wrong When the soul of a man walks out with song; Wherever they go, glad hand in hand, And glove in glove, The round of the land is rainbow-spanned, And the meaning of life they understand Is love, is love. Let the heart be open, the soul be strong, And life will be glad as a Christmas song.

_The Puritans' Christmas_

Their only thought religion,
What Christmas joys had they,
The stern, staunch Pilgrim Fathers who
Knew naught of holiday?--

A log-church in the clearing
'Mid solitudes of snow,
The wild-beast and the wilderness,
And lurking Indian foe.

No time had they for pleasure,
Whom God had put to school;
A sermon was their Christmas cheer,
A psalm their only Yule.

They deemed it joy sufficient,--
Nor would Christ take it ill,--
That service to Himself and God
Employed their spirits still.

And so through faith and prayer
Their powers were renewed,
And souls made strong to shape a World,
And tame a solitude.

A type of revolution,
Wrought from an iron plan,
In the largest mold of liberty
God cast the Puritan.

A better land they founded,
That Freedom had for bride,
The shackles of old despotism
Struck from her limbs and side.

With faith within to guide them,
And courage to perform,
A nation, from a wilderness,
They hewed with their strong arm.

For liberty to worship,
And right to do and dare,
They faced the savage and the storm
With voices raised in prayer.

For God it was who summoned,
And God it was who led,
And God would not forsake the love
That must be clothed and fed.

Great need had they of courage!
Great need of faith had they!
And lacking these--how otherwise
For us had been this day!

_Spring_

(After the German of Goethe, _Faust_, II)

When on the mountain tops ray-crowned Apollo Turns his swift arrows, dart on glittering dart, Let but a rock glint green, the wild goats follow Glad-grazing shyly on each sparse-grown part.

Rolled into plunging torrents spring the fountains; And slope and vale and meadowland grow green; While on ridg'd levels of a hundred mountains, Far fleece by fleece, the woolly flocks convene.

With measured stride, deliberate and steady, The scattered cattle seek the beetling steep, But shelter for th' assembled herd is ready In many hollows that the walled rocks heap:

The lairs of Pan; and, lo, in murmuring places, In bushy clefts, what woodland Nymphs arouse! Where, full of yearning for the azure spaces, Tree, crowding tree, lifts high its heavy boughs.

Old forests, where the gnarly oak stands regnant Bristling with twigs that still repullulate, And, swoln with spring, with sappy sweetness pregnant, The maple blushes with its leafy weight.

And, mother-like, in cirques of quiet shadows, Milk flows, warm milk, that keeps all things alive; Fruit is not far, th' abundance of the meadows, And honey oozes from the hollow hive.

_Lines_

Within the world of every man's desire Three things have power to lift his soul above, Through dreams, religion, and ecstatic fire, The star-like shapes of Beauty, Truth, and Love.

I never hoped that, this side far-off Heaven, These three,--whom all exalted souls pursue,-- I e'er should see; until to me 't was given, Lady, to meet the three, made one, in you.

_When Ships put out to Sea_

I

It's "Sweet, good-bye," when pennants fly
And ships put out to sea;
It's a loving kiss, and a tear or two
In an eye of brown or an eye of blue;--
And you'll remember me,
Sweetheart,
And you'll remember me.

II

It's "Friend or foe?" when signals blow
And ships sight ships at sea;
It's clear for action, and man the guns,
As the battle nears or the battle runs;--
And you'll remember me,
Sweetheart,
And you'll remember me.

III

It's deck to deck, and wrath and wreck
When ships meet ships at sea;
It's scream of shot and shriek of shell,
And hull and turret a roaring hell;--
And you'll remember me,
Sweetheart,
And you'll remember me.

IV

It's doom and death, and pause a breath
When ships go down at sea;
It's hate is over and love begins,
And war is cruel whoever wins;--
And you'll remember me,
Sweetheart,
And you'll remember me.

_The "Kentucky"_

(Battleship, launched March 24, 1898.)

I

Here's to her who bears the name Of our State; May the glory of her fame Be as great! In the battle's dread eclipse, When she opens iron lips, When our ships confront the ships Of the foe, May each word of steel she utters carry woe! Here's to her!

II

Here's to her, who, like a knight Mailed of old, From far sea to sea the Right Shall uphold. May she always deal defeat,-- When contending navies meet, And the battle's screaming sleet Blinds and stuns,-- With the red, terrific thunder of her guns. Here's to her!

III

Here's to her who bears the name Of our State; May the glory of her fame Be as great! Like a beacon, like a star, May she lead our squadrons far,-- When the hurricane of war Shakes the world,-- With her pennant in the vanward broad unfurled. Here's to her!

_Quatrains_