THE BIVOUAC
Look, comrades, through the bending trees a gleam of silver light,
Where the winding river goes to find the sea;
Off-saddle,—here we bivouac the long appointed night,
Till the Great Commander sounds reveille.
All along the trail behind us in the grasses and the pines
Lie the brothers who were weary e’re the night;
And we shoulder close together now to hide the thinning lines,
And there’s more than mist of years to dim our sight.
Old ambitions burned to ashes sift their whiteness through the hair
Of the gayest youth who faced the morning sun;
And it’s more of scars than honors that the bravest comrades wear,
As we count the cost and know the fight is done.
Guidons flutter in the night wind and the campfires flicker low,
We are silent with old memories deep and fond;
Up, comrades, cheer the joy of life once more before we go—
Knowing now ’tis love and service and a mighty hope Beyond.
THE RACE MOTHER
At sunrise I saw her, the woman eternal, the Race Mother;
She stood upon a great, gray cliff—and behind her the forest;
The dawn was on her face; over the world she looked as one seeking—
As one whose eyes have watched long through shadow,
And are weary still watching for one who comes not.
Her mate she sought—waiting there with the forest behind her,
And the world stretching wide, and the wind singing glory to daybreak.
Strong and pure and clean-limbed and deep-bosomed—
Goddess and woman in one—loving and longing she waited.
Out from the foot of the cliff one crept up to take her;
Huge-muscled, careless—o’er-borne with fierce cravings and hunger.
He saw not her eyes with the passionate longing within them—
Burning holy and tender with infinite love and compassion.
Only the strong, sweet body he grasped—crushed and maimed—bound to serve him;
Bent at his will, and distorted—till ugly and broken,
Unmeet even to serve, it shambled beside him.
On the breast hung a child, half-divine, half-monstrous—
Maimed too, scarred, deformed—mingling strangely
The holy dawn-dream in the deep, waiting eyes of the woman,
And the careless, fierce face of the man as he fought up to take her.
It was night now, and the dawn-light was dead, and the wide world was hidden,
And the wind whimpered and wailed like a creature that suffers and hopes not.
ROAD’S END.
The old wife by the grave-stone stands
And looketh far away;
Her eyes are deep as pools of rain
Twilit at close of day.
“God rest ye, husband of my flesh—
Life-Stranger to my soul—
I pray thy spirit goes to seek
Some dear-desired goal.”
“How long, how long, the way chance willed,
We journeyed side by side,
Yet never met at stile or gate—
I was thy body’s bride!
That far-off day, our wedding day,
I dreamed as women will—
The heart a-hungered and alone
Is lone and hungered still.”
“Four hands won roof and goods and gear
And ploughed and gleaned and spun—
Two stranger hearts the world apart
Sat down when toil was done.
God rest ye now beyond the end;
God light the way ahead—
And that the living eyes were blind,
Lay sight upon the dead.”
THE CHOOSING
“Here is life,” I said to my heart;
“Shall thou and I take part
In his battle and busy mart?
Shall we follow the voices that call
From temple and workshop and hall:
‘Lo, brother, we bid thee come?’”
“There is pleasure in palace and bower;
There is gold for our winning, and power;
And fame—for an idle hour
A bauble to tempt the best.
Shall we make us one with the rest,
And attempt, and achieve—or fail?”
But my heart, grown sudden wise,
Looked out from steadfast eyes
And said: “In myself it lies
To be more than a tool for gain—
Nay, Life, ye must bid again
Ere I answer to your call.”
“What say you of honor, O Life?
Has it room in the bitter strife
With which your service is rife?
Is there room for a soul to be
All the best it can feel and see;
To unfold its wings and arise?”
Then Life, with sphinx-like face,
And smile wherein no trace
Of answering had place;
Said: “Take my gift, or leave it—
But know they that receive it
Can make it what they will.”