title: The dawn of day,
text: .0 l9 'l-^nL'* "^ ^V^*' .**^' -. -y^-<:^^^' J'''\. •-^»^,* '^'^ '-''* v'i/.^'-y^' '^ .^ /^V^v \^/ /^^', -^^^^^ y^%u^^ \ * V -t^ ^^ ' • • * Mrs Edna Smith-Deran and Daughter Norma TKe Da^vn of Day BY Edna Smith DeRan Author of Verses by The Wayside; Am I My Brother's Keeper; The Grief Shadow Between; The Heritage of Hope; Etc. PublisKed Ly the Author 203 W. Philadelphia Ave., Detroit, Mich. 1919 Copyright by the Author 1919 OCT 1 7 ,'919 ©CU536423 2r 5^ i>» TO MY PARENTS PREFACE This book was written in the spare moments at night, after each day's work had been done, and was begun January first, and completed February fifteenth. During this month and a half of writing I felt that the dawn of a new day was at hand, but little realized that it was the dawn of heaven's day for my dear father who had given his sight for his country and had lived in darkness so many years. To me the greatest pleasure in writing this book was in reading each morning my five or six poems, that had been written the evening previous, to my invalid mother and my blind father and then watch- ing the expression on his face as he listened, and hear- ing the comments of my dear parents. I am thankful that he lived to hear it all read although he is not with me to know what the world will say of my effort. And yet, since he was a part of life, I feel that life is a part of God and God cannot die. So in his own way he will know if my effort will do that which I have intended it to accomplish, — that is to make each of my readers happier, better, braver to meet life's tests. As you read my verses I want you to feel that a sister is grasping your hand, looking into the depths of your eyes and saying to you : Look up, for the sun is shining behind every cloud ; lift up, for in lifting for others you forget your own burden ; love all, for the more you share your love with all, aye, even those who have done you the greatest injury, the more does love from all come back to you, shedding its glories along your path, transforming life's "sorrows" into blessings. CONTENTS PAGE Against the Grain 50 A Night in the Woods 154 As Big as We Plan 89 A Night on the St. Johns 69 At the End All is One 140 A Tribute to Ireland 133 A True Home is Blest 25 Autumn 163 Banish Extremes 46 Banish the Gulf 'Tween the Two 71 Be a Leader 76 Be a Sixty Power Light 80 By the Grasp of Your Hand 110 By Your Smile 104 Come, Oh My Love 40 Could We Forget 31 Desire Reveals Ability 79 Drifting 107 Discontent Causes Growth 102 Earth's Monarch Should Her People Be. .' 156 Enrolled For Service 63 Ever as the Oak 81 Every Crime Destroys More Edens than One 29 Every Knock is a Boost 36 Every Day 162 Faith Comes Through Thought 45 Friend Arise 41 Greatness Breeds in Thought 100 Great Thinkers Stand Alone 65 Hee Haw ! 131 If You Would Always Do the Right 121 Ireland 61 It Can't Be Did 106 "I Thought" 136 I Will Be Heard.... 119 Jekyl and Hyde 51 June 103 Keep Faith 101 Let's Bury the Bitter 123 Life is a Loom 97 Lift As If We Understood 86 Look Ahead 108 Love Has a Way. I look far in the distance and I see an end of strife; With hopeful heart I look afar and view the newer Ufe. I see no aged man refused an honest chance to work; No gray-haired, hopeless, hungry, and there's none who duty shirk. I see no jails in which the men — my brothers — are confined. But homes of refuge for their need where all therein are kind. There are no cells in which the men are locked like beasts of prey, For they have vanished, aye long since ; for see ! 'tis dawn of day — A day in which but love shall rule and hate is swept afar. And law is not, for over all shines love, the morning star. 11 I look again : in homes of wealth no greedy masters, see; For all men work, and none are slaves since love has set them free. And in the shops and factories the anvils loudly ring; While at their work I see men smile and, yes, I hear them sing. No children there with haunting eyes more fit for pauper's graves. As here with us today you see, for now we still have slaves. But all this wrong some day shall cease and greed be swept away. For looking far ahead I see this wondrous dawn of day. I look again to see my kind — my sisters — can it be? Why they are fair to look upon ; no lust-slave do I see. Not one among them can be found with eyes that hungry wait The coming of the man whom love will prove her goodly mate; No hell-begotten, law-protected red light district fills The land with lust-seared wombs, or sex-robbed women kills; No blinded babes deprived of sight because of brute man's lust; For love but. claims and holds its own, and love is cleanly, just. 12 Law forces none to sell their souls for bread, for love is free, And yields its sweet embrace to none save those who mated be, And mated not by priestly cant, by priestly cant alone, But when the pure heart calls, and love, yes true love claims its own.* No cross-crowned haunts of creed where priests can satiate themselves. And say with pagans old, "God blessed the deed," while law (that delves In rum-filled rooms and scenes of vice and, yes, in every home) In these retreats steps not. (Who is to blame, the laws, or — Rome?) My eyes had grown aweary, friends, of all our present woe; But now that I can look afar my heart but faith does know. And, knowing that this all can be, on bended knees I pray: God give me strength to write and work for this — the dawn of day. * In "Woman and Labor," by Olive Schreiner, she says: "That noble as is the function of the Physical Reproduction of humanity by the union of man and woman, rightly viewed, that union has in it latent, other and even higher forms of creative energy and life dispensing power, and that its history on earth has only begun." 13 THE AUTUMN DAYS HAVE COME AT LAST The autumn days have come at last ; In every wood and downy dell The artist hand of nature's frost Hath tinted all and painted well. The autumn winds have wooed the blooms Of summer's verdure from our sight ; The wildwood's blush doth harmonize With dying green, once richly bright. Beneath my slow and careless feet The tall, untrampled, toughened grass Sinks low, as if 'tis first 'twas trod, As through the woods I slowly pass. The broken branches, fallen bark, And leaves, conceal the hidden holes; The clinging vines and verdant moss Hug close the many stumps and knolls. As autumn winds soft sigh and blow. The sympathizing branches writhe As if to join the harmony; And younger growths and treelets lithe 14 Sway to and fro. Oh, 'tis a joy To tramp through haunts of fawn and doe, And watch the silvered stream that flows In rooted paths, 'neath branches low (That bow and dip, o'er green-mossed beds) Through rocky glens and greenish glades, While softly moving, murmuring low. As on it glides through tree-arched shades. The up-peeled bark reveals where nuts Have grown and now are lowly laid. And guide the happy farmer lads To where they soon will make a raid. The chirping of the south-bound birds Is sweet as to their mates they call. Who but the poet ever tells The wondrous beauty of the fall. 15 PATS CHRISTMAS THEFT You may talk of the right of the law, boys, And it's not a denying I'd try; But when Pat stole the food for his laddies, I just said to myself: so would I. For I know Pat was honest and faithful. And he worked with his might night and day ; But the women folks came with their pleading, And so got his position and pay. When a man has no learned profession. Has a wife and small children to feed. When he loses his job and his wages. Life is dismal and dreary indeed. And poor Pat knew the children were hungry. And no money had he to buy food ; All the windows looked tempting and tasteful. And the counters' great burden looked good. So he took of the grocerman's bounty, — Call it stealing, my boys, if you will; But that night his poor woman and children Just had one good square meal, had their fill. The next day at the judge's Pat pleaded For mercy and said he would try And repay all his debt. He was pardoned. Said the judge : "Though you stole, so would I." 16 THE TEMPTRESS He brought me roses rare, All golden as the sun, And with their beauty at my breast He swore allegiance until death do part. But roses die. And so 'twas best Our paths no longer one. Yet mine is free and fair. He brought me love so true. Our Eden had its Eve. And she, the temptress, held fruit fair To see, but poisoned venom at the core. And I — ah well !— I do not care. Upon his brow toil sweat doth leave. And in his cup is rue. Now midst the tresses black Creep silvered signs of sin; And with her gaunt and thin-drawn smile She tries to hide her load of lonely grief. She reaps her harvest. The seeds were vile— The seeds she sowed to win Along her guilt-trod track. The withered blooms have I And freedom, love, and life; While she has grief she tries to hide. And scorn of those who know that right should rule. And in her sinful, lustful pride She sits an unloved, guilt-cursed wife. The world and he knows why. 17 YOU In the midst of life's dark turmoil, When my heart was faint and weak, When life seemed not worth the living, And but surcease I did seek, Sadly knelt I by my window, Caring not for friends or kin ; (Knew you e'er a heart so weary?) I had tried but did not win. I had held my high ideals And had tried to make them true; I had hoped, and prayed, and striven; But my cup seemed filled with rue. All my toils seemed wasted effort; All my prayers but words in air ; And to me it mattered little If the day was foul or fair. Sadly thus, and lonely, knelt I Thinking over all my past; Thinking how I hoped for heaven. But a fate my hopes did blast. ^ 3p 9^ ^ 3|£ 18 My first few years were spent in daydreams; My life was aimless, pliant, pure. With naught to worry, naught to fret me; That mode of life could not endure. My girlhood burst to woman's blooming; Ambitions came and all seemed fair ; My hopes reached out to heights sublimest, And barriers to that goal seemed rare. Then so-called love was born ; and prudence, (A thing unknown to lad or lass) Ne'er bade me wait to test its living, Or say : "This fancy soon will pass." And so we two life's journey started; My castles soon began to fall; For there was discord in the music, — Just a discord, that was all. In some way what I grasped for failed me; The azure skies seemed not so blue. But, one day, I waked up akissing Sweet nectared baby lips, — 'twas you. And then once more I saw life's sunshine Within the sweetness of your smile; And then I lived for you, you only. And worked for you, sweetheart, the while. Oh how I hoped my old ideals Would all be realized in you, — Through you I'd win my long-sought glory, A glory that is won by few. 19 'Eva" — so the angels named you As they laid you by my side ; Just a tiny heaven-born being To be mine through time and tide. How my heart did wildly flutter As I heard your first weak wail ; Hours and hours I'd sit and watch you — Born, a tiny being frail. All the sky was robbed of azure For the clear blue of your eyes That so danced with childish gladness And grew large with life's surprise. Yes, the roses pink was stolen And laid softly on your cheeks. For a sweeter bloom you'd find not Midst those blossoms if you'd seek. All the goodness of my being Through my breast to you I gave; All the best of earth and heaven I would for my darling save. Bees would all have left the clover Had they tasted of your lips; But they knew not of the nectar That a new made mother sips. Sunshine faded into glimmer When compared with your sweet smile For the clouds oft hid the sunshine, But your smile was all the while, 20 Save perchance, when slumber gently Hid the glory, closed each lid. Still I knew the brightness lingered For a time in dreamland hid. Strangers oft would stop to greet you, All so roguish was your glance ; And they smiled, forgot their sorrow, Just to see you laugh and dance. As I listened to your cooing. Ne'er to me were sounds so sweet; Never touch to me so tender As when mine your hand would meet. Then, one day, I stopped to shudder At my heart — held thought of hate For the man whose name you bore, dear, (Had you come to me too late?) As each day that hate grew stronger, Dearer to my heart you grew; For the mother-love seemed only Just the one fate gave to you; And the sweetness of your chatter, Which I hoped would still the strife. Seemed but futile to win homeward Him who still must call me wife. Passion's poison surged all through him; Sin-seared hands clung with their might To his being, with lust cunning. Dimmed his sight to truth and right. 21 And your eyes with azure brightness Could not hold when lust-eyes wooed, Wooed and plead with cursed cunning, While alone with me you cooed. So again my home-hopes vanished. Said I : "Craving heart, be still." And I crushed the hate within me. Hate for him. For love should fill Hearts that mould the world's ideals. Could I make you pure and sweet With my heart half love, half hatred? Bravely I that test must meet. Like a pauper in a palace Felt I when I first began the fight. Few can know how great the struggle,- Crushing hatred cause 'twas right. But at last I won the victory; Calm indifference filled my heart. Then, then only, felt I rightly You and I from him could part. So I took you from that home-nest, O'er the world we wandered lone; For life held a past-dimmed pleasure Everywhere that we would roam. Time its fateful web was weaving — Threads too strong for me to break; But, with will perverse, my planning, — Aye, my own way would I take. 22 My rebellious heart was wayward, You had grown to girlhood, too; And, while loving, found your pleasures 'Mong your many friends so new. So for me the hours dragged slowly, Why should I thus lonely live; While my heart was slowly starving To be loved and love to give? So I knelt down by my window In the dusk of evening's gray. Knowing, feeling that life's problem I must solve ere close of day. One by one the stars peeped softly O'er the earth so dark tonight ; Then I thought how lone and dismal It would be without their light. Yet through bitter darkness came they, — Ah ! life's truth had come to me In this sentence. Farewell longing. Now for my life work I am free. Those who would be leaders faithful. They must stand alone and live. Pass through darkness and life's bitter. Ere true sympathy they give. They must love yet have no idols, And through love their hearts must bleed Ere they can, with tender wisdom. Know what human hearts most need. 23 They must love yet know no answer, If to lonely hearts they'd give Comfort that will lift souls upward, Courage that will help men live. They must have love, strength, and courage. These had all been given me; I had passed through utter darkness. Fought the fight and now was free, — Free to win my great ambition, That to help the world Fd live. Live and love — not just one only, But to all true love Fd give. 3|C 5jC ^ 3ft ^ 3jC But I hear a gentle footstep, Ah, the gloaming brings the dew, And the stars have taught my lesson, — And 'twas heaven gave me you. 24 A TRUE HOME IS BLEST "Blows the wind wildly? Then fasten the windows, Make tight the doors and we'll sit near the fire, Chatting, we all, till our eyes long for slumber. Chatting and laughing till time to retire. Here, mother darling, your footstool is waiting Near your great armchair that sits at my side, For I e'er miss you when you are not near me, — Love you e'en more than when I made you bride. Come, children, come; for your dishes look cleanly, And our dear circle is never complete If you should tarry and not be here with us. Come, for our friend here would miss your smiles sweet. Turn the gas higher. Our grate must be glowing, Giving forth welcoming warmth for the night. There now, friend x\lbert, your pipe if you're choosing, And in its smoke breed new visions so bright. None of our pleasures can rival the hours That we have spent in thus listening to you. So we are waiting the story that's coming. What shall it be? On some subject that's new?" 25 "Tut, tut, friend of mine, you're o'er generous in praising, Though a good pipe, I'll admit, starts my dreams; And you're good listeners. Sure 'tis no hardship Dreaming aloud while the gas glows and gleams. Alice, my friend, what would you my story? Ah ! the pink rosebuds that creep to your cheek Tell me quite plainly to love you'd fain listen. Tell I of love that a lad went to seek. Far in the south of the Buckeye state's beauty Lived a young man who was aged twenty-three, — Active and witty, though not blessed with wisdom, Else this one story I'd not known you see. Albert, for that was the name of my hero. Cared not for books with their knowledge encased. And, when his parents would send him to college, Scolded and said, 'Tt is time gone to waste." So he had drifted from shop to an office, Where he oft met with companions quite gay, Men who not always would choose their path wisely, So it had led to their drinking one day. Twitted they him for his lack of a sweetheart: "Can't get a girl though they're plenty around;" Said they in joking. He boastingly answered: "I'll get one today. I'll hunt 'til one's found." 26 So down the street he went staggering gaily, Sidewalks were icy, his steps were not true ; Some way he shpped breaking leg, and, unconscious, Was carried by men to a home that was new. Here a young lassie, with cheeks like the roses, Eyes that were blue as the blue sky above, Was his attendant and kindly she nursed him. While, in his suffering, he dreamed not of love. Hours grew swift into days — days of dreaming; They became friends and the friendship grew fast. Then, one day, Albert awoke from his reverie, Knew he'd become a fond lover at last. When he'd recovered and left the sweet lassie. On her fair finger was seen a new ring. And he had promised that nevermore liquor To his red hps would he knowingly bring. Then one bright May day when bells were a'ringing. He and the lassie became husband and bride. And through the many years lived they together, Ever through sorrow and joy side by side. Then when the rude hand of death claimed the lassie. Came he, my hero, to live with his friend. Where, midst the smoke of his pipe he builds fan- cies, — Fancies he hopes to sweet Ahce joys lend." 27 Hushed was the voice of the speaker. Applauses Greeted his ears, and he knew he had pleased. Alice, the youngest, of ten and six summers. Quickly leaned o'er and his hand gently seized. "Oh, dear friend Albert, you know how to please us. Always you tell us some story so dear ; How I do wish I could tell you the pleasure That you give all of us by being here." "Aye, Albert, comrade," the master's voice added, "Glad are we all for your presence each day. Ah I the old clock chimes the hour of midnight. So we will haste from our fireside away." Then as the glow light dies out in the fireplace, Each one to slumberland hies him to rest, Thankful for home, and for family, and friendship, For each one knew that a true home is blest. 28 EVERY CRIME DESTROYS MORE EDENS THAN ONE The great realm of cause is the reahii oft unseen, The realm of effect but too often we view ; We make our own hell by our acts every day, By merciful deeds do we make heaven too. And be our acts kindly, or be they for ill, They're not only ours, for they touch all that's near, And injure or bless our companions around; Then we should act wisely for the sake of those dear. The thief may oft suffer great tortures of mind, But parents of his, perhaps, suffer far more (Though innocent they) for the deed he has done. They wanted their boy to be loving and pure. Perhaps in their hearts they know why he sinned, And, with parent love, they forgive him his crime. But grieve they the less ? For the world sees the deed And brands him a convict, though freed, for all time. 29 Could people all know of the cause of most crime, More mercy with verdicts I'm sure they would show ; For causes are ofttimes the part that's unseen, And only results good or bad, do we know. Then when we are tempted to yield to the wrong, Let's stop to reflect, ere the deed has been done ; That sin may be ours but our grief others share, . Each crime will destroy far more Edens than one. 30 COULD WE FORGET This is the greatest tragedy of life : Could we forget. If we could pluck the fragrant rose, Inhale its fragrance for the day, Then toss aside the withered spray, Forgetting it and go our way, — But that — that withered lifeless thing — Its cruel thorns so sharply sting. (A dried up rose no odors bring.) I take the withered, lifeless, scentless rose And throw away. Yet there before my view it ever lies. The greatest tragedy of life is this : Could we forget. The love was won with plighted troth. And he to me was king of men. So when he plead, what could I then? And there were letters from his pen, And that which sparkled on my hand, — Oh God ! I cannot understand How he could woo with smiles so bland. Then, for a day, beg back his ring once more And go his way. Yet he has gone. And I — I sit alone. 31 The greatest tragedy of life is this: Could we forget. I burned the letters, every one. Before my gaze the ashes lie. Though far I swept them, back they fly. Oh God ! I sometimes pray to die. Though o'er the ocean I should flee, Still even there those ashes be. In dreams they're hunting, haunting me. Oh that some cloud would bear me far away Where they are not. For memory does not kill but blurs the brain. The greatest tragedy of life is this: We can't forget. Go where we will, that follows still; And conscience binds one as its bride. Go far on land, sail waters wide. That withered thing is by my side. Regret may come, but it will stay. Brine tears will wash it not away. The hours drag each night and day. The dreary endless ache eats cankers sore Deep in our hearts. That rose, oh God, will never bloom again. Sometime we'll lay life's burden down, Then we'll forget. Our cankered hearts will then beat not; And that which now dost clutch and cling — That lifeless, hateful, withered thing — Will stingless thorns then to me bring. 32 And then no more in dread I'll face That hateful shadow. Then its place Upon my heart I'll not efface. For at life's end 'twill lie upon my heart, And eat no more. There at the end 'twill die upon my bier. YOU GET WHAT YOU GIVE You get from the world what you give it, my friend, You reap but the harvest you sow; Then learn this one fact, for 'tis potent for all, And give naught but good as you go. Give honesty, virtue, and words of good cheer. And good must come back, friend of mine ; Perchance not in your way, or just when you wish, But sure in God's way, and God's time. Then give to the world of your strength and your love. For they were but loaned you the while. You get from the world what you give to the world. Then give kindly words and a smile. ZZ MY ISLAND OUT AT SEA Far out, far out 'mid emerald waves, I have an island out at sea, Where huts of poverty are not, And where I breathe and can be free. The roses in wild richness bloom ; The tropic winds woo blossoms rare; And when my heart grows sick with pain I haste me to my island fair. I list to songs of wind and wave As they go sweeping gently by; I wander o'er the sandy soil And 'neath palmetto palms I lie. The ocean's roar sobs me to sleep; The salt winds woo my soul to rest. I shut my heart to memory's claim For one wee while, and know 'tis best. For thus I gain new lease of life, Through this sweet rest, from all the woe That in the cities' mart of men I daily meet, that hurts me so. 34 For midst the lowly life I serve; I try to seek my brothers' needs, And cheer the saddened heart that aches, And gives my days to Christlike deeds. But sometimes sorrow sickens me. So much I see ; and then once more I sail out to my island home And rest till sleeping time is o'er. 35 EVERY KNOCK IS A BOOST Each fall that we get means to rise up again. Were paths for us smooth we would never be men. For when we have risen we see our mistake, Though over our error our hearts often ache. Yet as we look back at the past do we know Through falling and rising we all stronger grow. Each knock is a boost could we only see clear, Each foe is a friend that we never need fear. For foes see our faults and quite gladly will say. And though it oft hurts us, 'tis just for today. The morrow will find us less prone to refuse The verdict of those who w^ere glad to accuse. Tis oft opposition but stimulates men To struggle the harder with hand or with pen. And thus they avenge their apparent defeat By rising victorious their critics to meet. Disraeli dared men to hold his force down. And glad were they soon just to list without frown. So fall not, my friends, lest your critics may sneer; But falling, jump up. Push along. Never fear. For he who ne'er falls never gets any place. Should foes try to knock you, just smile in their face. For know every knock is a boost to the strong. Take courage. Keep going. You'll win out ere long. 26 LOVE HAS A WAY Love has a way, a secret way, of telling what it wills, And love is wise and well it knows each heart with joy it fills. And though you say that love is blind, it always finds a way To capture, keep, and bind a heart, though force would say it nay. Love has its own — without one word — it has its silent way Of telling more by tender touch than all your words could say; For just one glance of love-filled eyes to love-filled eyes can tell, Can tell in volumes none may read save two who love so well. And e'en though smiles may lie between, and letters be but few, Love needs few words ; a line breathes all when hearts are tender, true. Love has its own, its silent way, of mating those un- met ; And soul v/ill claim its kindred soul, and watcli till eyes are wet. 37 For in this world environment oft binds with rods of steel, And heart may cling to heart though each its love for each conceal, Lest love revealed may injure those fate placed within our hand, But some day love will reign supreme, and both will understand. Love has its own, its silent way, of mending all that's wrong ; And love will wipe all tears away and make us pure and strong. And at life's end love's way will rule and hate will ne'er more be ; And since love rules, I will have you; and you, dear heart, have me. 38 YOU CANNOT SERVE TWO MASTERS You cannot serve Jesus and Mammon; Two masters there never can be. Do senses but govern your actions, Or Ego, the soul, set you free To live the divine that is in you? Which one are you serving today? The one holds you down to base passion. All selfishly tread you life's way? Each one has an Ego to guide you — A part of you which is divine, The part that e'er speaks through the conscience, And puts from your hand sparkling wine. The ego, the fraction, the unit. The part of each one that e'er lives. And, living, is God when completed; So naught but love ego e'er gives. The senses but cling for the selfish, For appetite, lust, and for drink. And clamor for all gilded pleasures; So list to your conscience and think. For yield you to senses' false clamor, You serve but a force that's untrue. You cannot serve God and serve mammon. Then choose the right master, not two. 39 COME, OH MY LOVE Come, oh my love, to our old trysting place ; Night's candles are brightly aglow; Treetops are lending their shadows for us ; I long for your love cooings low. Linger not, darling, the hours have been long Since you from my side went away. Time since has. dropped a dark veil 'tween us two, But now I can bid you come stay. Violets close to earth's breast are in bloom. All purple and yellow and white; Their faces look up as if they know I wait The coming of you, dear, tonight. Hasten, my darling, my lips thirst for yours ; My heart, dear, is starving yet true. Life seems so lonely while you are away, Aye, heaven would be drear without you. Silent and breathless, the winds also wait; An owl in the distance says, "Who?" I smile in my scorn of his ignorant pate. For who could it be, dear, but you ? 40 Here in the gloaming I'll wait, dearest heart, Yes, here 'neath the old trysting tree. Heaven has lit all its candles for us. Haste, Oh my darling, to me. FRIEND, ARISE Art thou roaming Where the paths are rough and steep. Just depending on thy strength and that alone ? If thou art, thou'lt find thine eyes must weep Over efforts futile. God must guide. No longer roam. Art thou grieving Over errors in the past? Life's great tasks should not be seen through weeping eyes. Thy mistakes hath taught thee what was best. Then look up and bravely fail no more. Oh friend, arise. Art thou sleeping When in life there's much to do? Dreamers never win the race. Oh friend, arise. Of this world's great burdens bear your share. Honors now will come alone to him who bravely tries. 41 MY NATIVE STATE, OHIO In the wild primeval forests worked our Buckeye boys so brave; Camped they by the huge logs blazing; dreamed, in lights that log fires gave, Dreams that grew to inspiration, for to dream meant but to do; So they laid the first foundation for old Buckeye state so true. Loud were heard the anvils ringing as men made their tools of toil; And their "Gee" and *'Whoa Haw" echoed as they plowed the virgin soil. And the women at their toiling, spun and wove and cooked each day In those old log huts now vanished. Ah, such things have passed away. They had jolly apple cuttings, and their husking bees were great; Oft 'twas there that lads and lassies plighted troth and glad to mate. 42 Home-made • wedding outfits : linen, sowed as flax, spun, wove and made By those lassies, blithe and bonnie, who of work were ne'er afraid. On old Maumee's banks contested all the right to that northwest ; Not one foot of soil was stolen from the Indians, for 'twas best That our state should all be paid for in but honor's way if we In the future would reap glory. And our harvest now you see. For as days passed into seasons, and the seasons into years. Do we see Ohio glorious and for it we have no fears. The Japanese word called "Ohio" means good morn- ing, don't you see ? And our state is just a dawning with its glory great to be. Aye, its fields have proved most fertile, and its mines and wells unfold Riches that in this, its morning, have not been sus- picioned, told. 43 Yes, our people sit with honor in positions that are great ; Seven have led this mighty nation, guided true our ship of state. Two Harrisons, Grant, Hayes, and Garfield, McKin- ley, Taft, and don't you doubt We've plenty more some day to honor the nation's throne and wrong put out. Yes, there is Croghan, Sherman, Corwin, and many men we cannot name, Who've made our nation's history glorious ; w^hose names but add to Buckeye fame. And so tonight we sing the praises of our birth state good and great. And may each person here add honor to our dear old native state. FAITH COMES THROUGH THOUGHT There is one path by which faith comes, — The path of thought that's free; And research proves the true or false. Faith comes with bended knee. Compulsion never yet forced faith, And nagging for the thing you'd have Your final aim will hurt. Unto tradition don't be bound; For falsehood can't live long, And truth will rise above the false To crush out all the wrong. Whene'er a slave begins to think. Not long will he be bound ; For thought will burst all fetters false And truth, some day, gain ground. When prisoners see the good beyond The force that holds them in. They'll tunnel through the deepest walls And truth and freedom win. Then what this world needs most of all Is men the truth to teach, And rouse the sluggish brains of all. That faith may come to each. 45 BANISH EXTREMES He who would reformer be Must recognize the rights of all, And know the poor have right to joys Which well he knows to them don't fall. When we deprive them of this right, We're thieves, — deny it if you dare. Life's luxuries are made by them, But still not theirs. Does this seem fair? Did every man get what he earned. And every man get that alone, Such things as paupers, millionaires, I'm sure would e'er remain unknown. If a reformer true you'd be, Then seek to banish these extremes. Don't try to fill the world with hash Of useless, paid-for, idle dreams. A6 SING AS YOU GO Sing as you go though the path may be dreary; Your journey will not seem so long. For you will not easily tire when there's music ; So sing as you're marching along. Sing in the morning though duties are heavy; Sing and the load will seem light. Others may hear and be cheered by your music ; Singing helps make the day bright. Others around you may join in the music, Forgetting their woes while they list; So sing as you go and at eve you'll discover By singing you've much sorrow missed. Sing at the noon when the day's at its highest ; Join in the chorus of birds ; Some heart worn soul may then pause in his grieving And leave thus unuttered sad words. Sing when the sun has grown weary of shining, And from our view sinks from sight; Sing because heaven should ring with sweet music. Sing and bring heaven each night. 47 MISERY'S CRY "Oh what is that cry that I hear all around, That low muffled moan with its pitiful sound?" Hush ! Hush ! Speak you low. That moan you will find The cry of the mammonish mills as they grind Their grist of humanity — women and men — (The truths are not spoken or oft told by pen.) And all to be ground for the rich master's greed, Who see such sad sights, yet such sounds do not heed. Through hunger to factories the poor class is led, Though factories and mills are but pressing blood red From lives and from hearts of these human machines ; Are crushing their hopes by fair and foul means. When worn out they die by their masters unwept; Were they steel they'd be cared for, aye, carefully kept, Be valued, protected by every wise plan, But they're insignificant things known as ''man." They're just human beings. Why, there's plenty more. Machinery costs gold, and men don't, that is sure. The Rooseveltian creed of large families is fine. The poor know the Bible. "To rear is divine." 48 "Replenish the earth." Let your babes homes adorn. (More children, more gold.) Let more babies be born, For children are useful when parents may shirk, — That moan comes from men too enfeebled to work. They've done their last stroke at the factory this day. They're dragging their worn weary bodies away. "We've paid them their wages; what could they ask more "Not wanted." "Too old ! We've women galore." "Men should not get hungry when they have grown old Then come to us masters for work. Tis too bold." "I've business to 'tend to, so please step aside. The poor house I'm sure has its doors open wide." So that's why these men are now looking forlorn. They're still men, tho' aged, and charity scorn. They're willing to work to get food and their clothes. But where can they go? Aye, 'tis "God only knows." And yet God does reign. And this fact don't refuse: In churches the masters all sit in front pews. So why should they list to this moaning today? And what will you do. Christian friends, tell I pray? And how will you help, for you hear all this wail? Now help, or don't criticise truths in this tale. You know it's all true. So deny if you dare. Go live you your creed. Make poverty rare. 49 AGAINST THE GRAIN One day as I was walking down the street, (Oh this was 'bout a year ago, I think,) I met a man who staggered as he walked. No need be told that he had had a drink. I listened to his musings as he passed ; (To tell you all I must refrain,) But this I heard : "Ah, 'tis a wicked law. I tell ye, boys, it goes against the grain." And then I thought: a foolish man is he To want the thing that can but injure so. Alas! we all, perhaps, are children still. For what is best for us we oft don't know. And stomach, brain, with useless stuff we fill ; No warnings heed, but seek for more again. And peevish grow, and by our actions say: "I tell ye, boys, it goes against the grain." fo me you often say: "Write jolly stuff. And we will buy the books you write and smile.' Too well I know the world is tired of woe. And realize 'tis joy makes life worth while. But life's great wrongs and wit don't easy mate, And 'tis the errors that I would restrain. So like the drunkard, when you ask for wit, I tell ye, boys, it goes against the grain. 50 JEKYL AND HYDE Often it seems as I go through the streets, I meet with both Jekyl and Hyde; For some that I know in their homes are not Hke Themselves when they're covered with pride. One neighbor I know is both forty and fat ; Gray hair and complexion of brown; Friend husband comes home at the close of the day, Ofttimes he is met with a frown. And yet if you asked did she love her man true, I'm sure she would answer you yes; And lest you might think her not telling the truth, I think that she does, I confess. She takes it for granted he knows of her love, Her worries 'bout home take her mind; And when he comes in she those woes will relate. (There are many such women you'll find.) But watch as she goes down the street shopping day. She's laced till you scarce see the fat; Her dress is so short you would think she's sixteen ; She wears a large blue picture hat. Her hair is the color of ravens that fly, Her cheeks are as pink as a rose; Complexion has changed to the tint of a babe's, She looks like ''some swell" — that she knows. 51 She goes to hub's office, she smiles and she smirks; The clerks oft with envy look wise; The sweetest of smiles she gives (for a ten) ; 'Twas Cupid such snares did devise. I say to myself : 'tis a Jekyl and Hyde ; But I'm not the one to complain ; And lest you should think I'm a critic severe, From expressing more thoughts I'll refrain. 52 THERE IS ONE LAW AND THAT IS LOVE There is one law and that Is love, And every thought opposing this Will bring a penalty to us. 'Twas Judas gave our Christ a kiss. But that one kiss a falsehood was, And for each wrong a price is paid; And Judas symboUzes sin; This verdict on his head was laid. All errors come through ignorance. So we must all forgiving be ; Did Christ chide Judas for his sin? Nay, nay. Then let's be wise as He. We know the traitor paid his debt. The sin was his, the suffering too. Without the Christ condemning once. We'll suffer for each wrong we do. The God-made law of love should guide; Revenge should live not in our brain ; For when it does we place ourselves With him we hate, and love is slain. Aye, every deed opposing love Will bring but sorrow through the years ; Let's have one law — love's law — that one; Then we need shed no bitter tears. SHARE THE JOYOUS If you know a song that's joyful Sing it, sing it loud and clear. Let's omit the songs that sadden; Sing instead the ones to gladden; For the world is dark and drear. Do you know a thought that's pleasant? Tell it; kept it does no good. Share it. Share with those who sorrow; They will bless you on the morrow; Tell all pleasant thoughts. You should. ^ r Do you know a joke thafs witty? Tell it, let us laugh a while; For the world is crushed with sorrow And we need brave souls to borrow Mirth to scatter, so we'll smile. Can't you give a hearty handgrasp? Hearts are lonely 'long life's way. Let's forget all that annoys us. Seek and share all that is joyous. Cheer your comrades, friends, I pray. 54 THE VALLEY OF ILLUSION There is a vale wherein men walk at large And breathe the breath of life, yet they live not, For life is growth in all its fullest sense, Not merely eat, and sleep, and drink. I sought This vale. 'Tis called the Valley of Illusion. I sought because it seemed no task to go Adown its paths with throngs of happy men And women who looked bright. But as we went The glitter seemed but gilded gloss. And then I asked my friends : "What is this Valley of Illusion ?" And one, in passing by, my query heard, And, though his way was not my own, replied : "Oh youth beware ! the path looks good today, Tomorrow much now bright will be denied. If thou, oh friend, wilt see the Valley of Illusion. The seeming truth will bugbears be erelong To sear thy soul and cause thee to regret Thy thoughtless wish to tread the common path Of most. With faith turn back, Oh friend, while yet Thou hast the power. Avoid the Valley of Illusion." 55 I turned as if I would retrace my steps. The path looked steep and few were going back, And I like not to tread life's path alone, So, heeding not his words, resumed the track That led me down into the Valley of Illusion. But soon the skies grew dark with mystery. And those who at the start had preached of creeds Seemed now like hungry beasts at throats of each, And not like humans, judging by their deeds Along the winding way to Valley of Illusion. And then I wondered if all things were false. And yet, back there, I knew that love was true. What need of creeds, and vales to be explored, And strange new friends, when such a love I knew Before I started to the Valley of Illusion? And so I said farewell to creed-crossed friends And turned my steps back toward love and light. My way was sore beset, and lone I trod. For to retrace my steps took strength, meant fight. For most were going to the Valley of Illusion. I brushed the cobwebs from my palsied brain And saw achievement comes from work well-done. Not drifting idly with the stagnant mass. I knew the crown to truth eternal must be won By marching upward from the Valley of Illusion. 56 And so I bore my cross with thorn-pierced hands. The soured sponge of critics oft brought tears — For I was human. Yet within my soul I knew the truth ; so crushed the doubt and fears I learned while traveling to the Valley of Illusion. The scornful smile of former friends I met, But kindly met them, met with smiles of peace. 'Twas hard, the scathing scorn of those most dear, And yet, that was my cross that would release Me from the false learned in the Valley of Illusion. For now I knew wrong steps must be retraced. In silence up and onward e'er I trod. A secret hand seemed leading me. And peace Filled all my heart. It was the gift of God. So must each soul pass upward from the Valley of . Illusion. 57 OUT OF LIFE'S TRAVAIL COMES TRUTH Out of the depths of the boundless deep sea Comes precious pearls of great price. Out from the depths of great sorrows brave borne Comes to the world best advice. Aye, 'tis the hand that has fought battles best, Strongest to win victories new. He who has grieved not poor pity can give — Sympathy, genuine, true. Christ's bleeding hands from the cross could reach out Taking the w^orld in His grasp. His sour-sponged lips asked forgiveness for all, That in His love all might bask. Out of the gutter-soaked mire oft comes strength. 