I love the scents that are hidden there By housekeeper Time, in her chests of air: Strange and subtle and all a-rife, With vague lost dreams of a bygone life.

They steal upon you by night and day, But never a whiff can you take away: And never a song of a tropic bird Outside of its palm-decked land is heard.

And nowhere else can you know the sweet Soft, 'joy-in-nothing,' that comes with the heat Of tropic regions. And yet, and yet, If in evergreen worlds my way were set

I would span the waters of widest seas To see the wonder of waking trees; To feel the shock of sudden delight That comes when the orchard has changed in a night, From the winter nun to the bride of May, And the harp of Spring is attuned to play The wedding march, and the sun is priest, And the world is bidden to join the feast.

Oh, never is felt in a tropic clime, Where the singing of birds is a ceaseless chime, That leap o' the blood, and the rapture thrill, That comes to us here, with the first bird's trill; And only the eye that has looked on snows Can see the beauty that lies in a rose.

The lure of the tropics I understand, But ho! for the Spring in my native land.

MOST BLEST IS HE

Most blest is he who in the morning time Sets forth upon his journey with no staff Shaped by another for his use. Who sees The imminent necessity for toil, And with each morning wakens to the thought Of tasks that wait his doing. Never yet Has unearned leisure and the gift of gold Bestowed such benefits upon the young As need and loneliness; and when life adds The burden of a duty, difficult, And hard to carry, then rejoice, O soul!

And know thyself one chosen for high things.

Behind thee walk the Helpers. Yet lead on!

They only help the lifters, and they give But unto those who also freely give.

Not till thy will, thy courage, and thy strength Have done their utmost, and thy love has flowed In pity and compa.s.sion, out to all (The worthless, the ungrateful, and the weak, As well as to the worthy and the strong) Canst thou receive invisible support.

Do first thy part, and all of it, before Asking the helpers to do aught for thee.

For this alone the Universe exists, That man may find himself is Destiny.

NIRVANA

A drop of water risen from the ocean Forgot its cause, and spake with deep emotion Unto a pa.s.sing breeze. 'How desolate And all forlorn is my unhappy fate.

I know not whence I came, or where I go.

Scorched by the sun, or chilled by winds that blow, I dwell in s.p.a.ce a little time, then pa.s.s Out into the night and nothingness--alas!'

'Nay,' quoth the breeze, 'my friend, that cannot be.

Thou dost reflect the Universe to me.

Look at thine own true self, and there behold A world of light, all scintillant with gold.'

Just there the drop sank back into the wave From whence it came. Nay, that was not its GRAVE!

It lived, it moved, it was a joyous part Of that strong palpitating ocean heart; Its little dream of loneliness was done; It woke to find, Self, and Cause, were one.

So shalt thou wake, sad mortal, when thy course Has run its karmic round, and reached the Source, And even now thou dost reflect the whole Of G.o.d's great glory in thy shining soul.

LIFE

Oh! I feel the growing glory Of our life upon this sphere, Of the life that like a river Runs forever and forever, From the somewhere to the here, And still on and onward flowing, Leads us out to larger knowing, Through the hidden, to the clear.

And I feel a deep thanksgiving For the sorrows I have known; For the worries and the crosses, And the grieving and the losses, That along my path were sown.

Now the great eternal meaning Of each trouble I am gleaning, And the harvest is my own.

I am opulent with knowledge Of the Purpose and the Cause.

And I go my way rejoicing, And in singing seek the voicing Of love's never-failing laws.

From the now, unto the Yonder, Full of beauty and of wonder, Life flows ever without pause.

And I feel the exaltation Of a child that loves its play, Though the ranks of friends are thinning, Still the end is but beginning Of a larger, fuller day, And the joy of life is spilling From my spirit, as all willing I go speeding on my way.

TWO MEN

So much one thought about the life beyond He did not drain the waters of his pond; And when death laid his children 'neath the sod He called it--'the mysterious will of G.o.d.'

He would not strive for worldly gain, not he.

His wealth, he said, was stored in G.o.d's To Be.

He kept his mortal body poorly drest, And talked about the garments of the blest.

And when to his last sleep he laid him down, His only mourner begged her widow's gown.

One was not sure there was a life to come, So made an Eden of his earthly home.

He strove for wealth, and with an open hand He comforted the needy in his land.

He wore new garments often, and the old Helped many a brother to keep out the cold.

He said this life was such a little span Man ought to make the most of it,--for man.

And when he died the fortune that he left Gave succour to the needy and bereft.

ONLY BE STILL

'Only be still, and in the silence grow,'

If thou art seeking what the G.o.ds bestow.

This is the simple, safe, and certain way That leads to knowledge for which all men pray Of higher laws to govern things below.

But in our restless discontent we go With noisy importuning day on day - Drowning the inner voice that strives to say 'Only be still, and in the silence grow.'

We doubt, we cavil, and we talk of woe - We delve in books, and waste our forces so; We cling to creeds that were not meant to stay, And close our ears to Truth's immortal lay.

Oh wouldst thou see, and understand, and know?

'Only be still, and in the silence grow.'

PARDONED OUT