Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
the fierce pain of hurting those we love
When love meets truth, and truth must ride above.
But the best courage man has ever shown
Is daring to cut loose and think alone.
Dark are the unlit chambers of clear space
Where light shines back from no reflecting face.
Our sun's wide glare, our heaven's shining blue,
We owe to fog and dust they fumble through;
And our rich wisdom that we treasure so
Shines from the thousand things that we don't know.
But to think new—it takes a courage grim
As led Columbus over the world's rim.
To think it cost some courage. And to go—
Try it. It takes every power you know.
It takes great love to stir the human heart
To live beyond the others and apart.
A love that is not shallow, is not small,
Is not for one or two, but for them all.
Love that can wound love for its higher need;
Love that can leave love, though the heart may bleed;
Love that can lose love, family and friend,
Yet steadfastly live, loving, to the end.
A love that asks no answer, that can live
Moved by one burning, deathless force—to give.
Love, strength, and courage; courage, strength, and love.
The heroes of all time are built thereof.
—Charlotte Perkins Stetson.
———
TO TRUTH
O star of truth down shining
Through clouds of doubt and fear,
I ask but 'neath your guidance
My pathway may appear.
However long the journey
How hard soe'er it be,
Though I be lone and weary,
Lead on, I'll follow thee.
I know thy blessed radiance
Can never lead astray,
However ancient custom
May trend some other way.
E'en if through untried deserts,
Or over trackless sea,
Though I be lone and weary,
Lead on, I'll follow thee.
The bleeding feet of martyrs
Thy toilsome road have trod.
But fires of human passion
May light the way to God.
Then, though my feet should falter,
While I thy beams can see,
Though I be lone and weary,
Lead on, I'll follow thee.
Though loving friends forsake me,
Or plead with me in tears—
Though angry foes may threaten
To shake my soul with fears—
Still to my high allegiance
I must not faithless be.
Through life or death, forever,
Lead on, I'll follow thee.
—Minot J. Savage.
———
NOBLESSE OBLIGE
Not ours nobility of this world's giving
Granted by monarchs of some earthly throne;
Not this life only which is worth the living,
Nor honor here worth striving for alone.
Princes are we, and of a line right royal;
Heirs are we of a glorious realm above;
Yet bound to service humble, true, and loyal,
For thus constraineth us our Monarch's love.
And looking to the joy that lies before us,
The crown held out to our once fallen race;
Led by the light that ever shineth o'er us,
Man is restored to nature's noblest place.
Noblesse oblige—(our very watchword be it!)
To raise the fallen from this low estate,
To boldly combat wrong whene'er we see it,
To render good for evil, love for hate.
Noblesse oblige—to deeds of valiant daring
In alien lands which other lords obey,
And into farthest climes our standard bearing,
To lead them captive 'neath our Master's sway.
Noblesse oblige—that, grudging not our treasure,
Nor seeking any portion to withhold,
We freely give it, without stint or measure,
Whate'er it be—our talents, time, or gold.
Noblesse oblige—that, looking upward ever,
We serve our King with courage, faith, and love,
Till, through that grace which can from death deliver,
We claim our noble heritage above!
———
OUR HEROES
The winds that once the Argo bore
Have died by Neptune's ruined shrines,
And her hull is the drift of the deep sea floor,
Though shaped of Pelion's tallest pines.
You may seek her crew in every isle,
Fair in the foam of Ægean seas,
But out of their sleep no charm can wile
Jason and Orpheus and Hercules.
And Priam's voice is heard no more
By windy Illium's sea-built walls;
From the washing wave and the lonely shore
No wail goes up as Hector falls.
On Ida's mount is the shining snow,
But Jove has gone from its brow away,
And red on the plain the poppies grow
Where Greek and Trojan fought that day.
Mother Earth! Are thy heroes dead?
Do they thrill the soul of the years no more?
Are the gleaming snows and the poppies red
All that is left of the brave