Dreams and Days: Poems Part 1

Dreams and Days: Poems.

by George Parsons Lathrop.

STRIKE HANDS, YOUNG MEN!

Strike hands, young men!

We know not when Death or disaster comes, Mightier than battle-drums To summon us away.

Death bids us say farewell To all we love, nor stay For tears;--and who can tell How soon misfortune's hand May smite us where we stand, Dragging us down, aloof, Under the swift world's hoof?

Strike hands for faith, and power To gladden the pa.s.sing hour; To wield the sword, or raise a song;-- To press the grape; or crush out wrong.

And strengthen right.

Give me the man of st.u.r.dy palm And vigorous brain; Hearty, companionable, sane, 'Mid all commotions calm, Yet filled with quick, enthusiastic fire;-- Give me the man Whose impulses aspire, And all his features seem to say, "I can!"

Strike hands, young men!

'Tis yours to help rebuild the State, And keep the Nation great.

With act and speech and pen 'Tis yours to spread The morning-red That ushers in a grander day: To scatter prejudice that blinds, And hail fresh thoughts in n.o.ble minds; To overthrow bland tyrannies That cheat the people, and with slow disease Change the Republic to a mockery.

Your words can teach that liberty Means more than just to cry "We're free"

While bending to some new-found yoke.

So shall each unjust bond be broke, Each toiler gain his meet reward, And life sound forth a truer chord.

Ah, if we so have striven, And mutually the grasp have given Of brotherhood, To work each other and the whole race good; What matter if the dream Come only partly true, And all the things accomplished seem Feeble and few?

At least, when summer's flame burns low And on our heads the drifting snow Settles and stays, We shall rejoice that in our earlier days We boldly then Struck hands, young men!

"O JAY!"

O jay-- Blue-jay!

What are you trying to say?

I remember, in the spring You pretended you could sing; But your voice is now still queerer, And as yet you've come no nearer To a song.

In fact, to sum the matter, I never heard a flatter Failure than your doleful clatter.

Don't you think it's wrong?

It was sweet to hear your note, I'll not deny, When April set pale clouds afloat O'er the blue tides of sky, And 'mid the wind's triumphant drums You, in your white and azure coat, A herald proud, came forth to cry, "The royal summer comes!"

But now that autumn's here, And the leaves curl up in sheer Disgust, And the cold rains fringe the pine, You really must Stop that supercilious whine--- Or you'll be shot, by some mephitic Angry critic.

You don't fulfill your early promise: You're not the smartest Kind of artist, Any more than poor Blind Tom is.

Yet somehow, still, There's meaning in your screaming bill.

What _are_ you trying to say?

Sometimes your piping is delicious, And then again it's simply vicious; Though on the whole the varying jangle Weaves round me an entrancing tangle Of memories grave or joyous: Things to weep or laugh at; Love that lived at a hint, or Days so sweet, they'd cloy us; Nights I have spent with friends;-- Glistening groves of winter, And the sound of vanished feet That walked by the ripening wheat; With other things.... Not the half that Your cry familiar blends Can I name, for it is mostly Very ghostly;-- Such mixed-up things your voice recalls, With its peculiar quirks and falls.

Possibly, then, your meaning, plain, Is that your harsh and broken strain Tallies best with a world of pain.

Well, I'll admit There's merit in a voice that's truthful: Yours is not honey-sweet nor youthful, But querulously fit.

And if we cannot sing, we'll say Something to the purpose, jay!

THE STAR TO ITS LIGHT

"Go," said the star to its light: "Follow your fathomless flight!

Into the dreams of s.p.a.ce Carry the joy of my face.

Go," said the star to its light: "Tell me the tale of your flight."

As the mandate rang The heavens through, Quick the ray sprang: Unheard it flew, Sped by the touch of an unseen spur.

It crumbled the dusk of the deep That folds the worlds in sleep, And shot through night with noiseless stir.

Then came the day; And all that swift array Of diamond-sparkles died.

And lo! the far star cried: "My light has lost its way!"

Ages on ages pa.s.sed: The light returned, at last.

"What have you seen, What have you heard-- O ray serene, O flame-winged bird I loosed on endless air?

Why do you look so faint and white?"-- Said the star to its light.

"O star," said the tremulous ray, "Grief and struggle I found.

Horror impeded my way.

Many a star and sun I pa.s.sed and touched, on my round.

Many a life undone I lit with a tender gleam: I shone in the lover's eyes, And soothed the maiden's dream.

But alas for the stifling mist of lies!

Alas, for the wrath of the battle-field Where my glance was mixed with blood!

And woe for the hearts by hate congealed, And the crime that rolls like a flood!

Too vast is the world for me; Too vast for the sparkling dew Of a force like yours to renew.

Hopeless the world's immensity!

The suns go on without end: The universe holds no friend: And so I come back to you."

"Go," said the star to its light: "You have not told me aright.

This you have taught: I am one In a million of million others-- Stars, or planets, or men;-- And all of these are my brothers.

Carry that message, and then My guerdon of praise you have won!

Say that I serve in my place: Say I will hide my own face Ere the sorrows of others I shun.

So, then, my trust you'll requite.

Go!"--said the star to its light.

"THE SUNs.h.i.+NE OF THINE EYES"

The suns.h.i.+ne of thine eyes, (O still, celestial beam!) Whatever it touches it fills With the life of its lambent gleam.

The suns.h.i.+ne of thine eyes, O let it fall on me!