The Muse of Brotherhood
I am in the Expectancy that runs:
My feet are in the Future, whirled afar
On wings of light. If I have any sons,
Let them arise and follow to my star.
Some momentary touches of my fire
Have warmed the barren ages with a beam:
There is no peak beyond my swift desire,
There is no beauty deeper than my dream.
I make an end of life’s stupendous jest—
The merry waste of fortunes by the Few,
While the thin faces of the poor are pressed
Against the panes—a hungry whirlwind crew.
I come to lift the soul-destroying weight,
To heal the hurt, to end the foolish loss,
To take the toiler from his brutal fate—
The toiler hanging on the Labor Cross.
I bring to Earth the feel of home again,
That men may nestle on her warm, still breast;
I bring to wronged, humiliated men
The sacred right to labor and to rest.
I bring to men the fine ideal stuff
The young gods took to build the spheres of old:
The fire I send on men is great enough
To burn the iron kingdoms into gold.
I hold the way until the bright heavens bend—
Until the New Republic shall arise,
And quick young deities again descend,
Bringing the gifts of God with joyous cries.
I lead the Graces and the Wingèd Powers:
The world the Anarchs build I will destroy,
For I will storm upon its demon towers,
With wind of laughter and with rain of joy.
And at the first break of my Social Song
A hush will fall upon the foolish strife,
As though a joyous god, serene and strong,
Shined suddenly before the steps of life.
Cold hearts that falter are my only bar:
Heroes that seek my ever-fading goal
Must take their reckoning from the central star,
And follow the equator: I am Soul.
My love is higher than heavens where Taurus wheels,
My love is deeper than the pillared skies:
High as that peak in Heaven where Milton kneels,
Deep as that grave in Hell where Cæsar lies.
Still hope for man: my star is on the way!
Great Hugo saw it from his prison isle;
It lit the mighty dream of Lamennais;
It led the ocean thunders of Carlyle.
Wise Greeley saw the star of my desire,
Wise Lincoln knelt before my hidden flame:
It was from me they drew their sacred fire—
I am Religion by her deeper name.