Part 3 (1/2)

Forming the great Atlantic, see G.o.d take The mist from woe's white mountain, spring and stream, The breath of man in frost, the spiral lean From roof-cracked caves where, though the heart may break, The soul will not lie torpid, like the snake,-- And battle smoke. On them He breathes with dream And, Lo! an Angel with a sword agleam 'Twix the Old World and New for Justice's sake.

What sea so broad, as that from Human weeping?

Or Sun so flaming, as the Angel's sword Of Human and Devine Wills in accord?

There, with sword-flash of myriad waves, joy-leaping, Shall loom forever, Freedom's watch and ward, With the New World in his Seraphic keeping.

HUMAN FREEDOM

This is thy glory, Man, that thou art free.

'Tis in thy freedom, thy resemblance lies To thy Creator. Nature, which, tide-wise, Is flood and ebb, bounds not sky flight for thee.

Lo! as the sun arises from the sea, Startling all beauty G.o.d-ward, thou dost rise With mind to G.o.d in heaven, from finite ties, And there, in freedom, thou art great as He.

Meeting thy G.o.d with mind, 'tis thine to choose, Wheather to follow him with love and soar, Or dream Him myth and, rather than adore, Plunge headlong into Nature's whirl and ooze.

Thine is full freedom. Ah! could G.o.d do more To liken thee to Him, and love, infuse?

THE STARS

G.o.d loves the stars; else why star-shape the dew For the unbreathing, shy, heart-hiding rose?

And when earth darkens, and the North wind blows, Why into stars, flake every cloud's black brew?

What fitter forms for longings high and true, Man's hopes, ideals, than bright orbs like those Asbine from Nature's dawn to Nature's close, In cl.u.s.ters, prisming every dazzling hue?

Nor is the Sun with harvests in its heat, And that, sky-hidden, makes the moon at night, An earth-ward cascade for its leaps of light, More real, or a world force more complete, Than Faith and Hope, that brake through clouds with sight Of evil's foil and ultimate defeat.

THE GENESIS OF FREEDOM

I

O Freedom! Born amid resplendent spheres, And, with G.o.d-like creative power, endowed, Hast thou, to human life's blue depths, not vowed A splendor, not alone like that which 'pears At present, where the upper asure clears, But that the Nebulae will yet unshroud?

I hear thy far off cry where thou art lone, A John the Baptist: ”Lo! one greater nears.”

What is this Greater--this which is to meet The planets and ascend high, high and higher?

The right of human spirit to aspire And mount, unhampered--and by act, complete Creations harmony, as by desire, Proclaimed by brain with throb, by heart with beat.

II

In thy descent through azures, all aglow With circling spheres, the beauty of each blaze, And grandeur, then, of all, entrance thy gaze.