Poems of Power Part 16

Fair, firm at the wheel s.h.i.+nes Love's beautiful form.

And shall I curse the bark that last night went to wreck By the pilot abandoned to darkness and storm?

My craft is no stauncher, she too had been lost Had the wheelman deserted, or slept at his post.

I laid down the wealth of my soul at your feet (Some woman does this for some man every day).

No desperate creature who walks in the street Has a wickeder heart than I might have, I say, Had you wantonly misused the treasures you won - As so many men with heart-riches have done.

This fire from G.o.d's altar, this holy love-flame, That burns like sweet incense forever for you, Might now be a wild conflagration of shame, Had you tortured my heart, or been base or untrue.

For angels and devils are cast in one mould, Till love guides them upward or downward, I hold.

I tell you the women who make fervent wives And sweet tender mothers, had Fate been less fair, Are the women who might have abandoned their lives To the madness that springs from and ends in despair.

As the fire on the hearth which sheds brightness around, Neglected, may level the walls to the ground.

The world makes grave errors in judging these things.

Great good and great evil are born in one breast: Love horns us and hoofs us, or gives us our wings, And the best could be worst, as the worst could be best.

You must thank your own worth for what I grew to be, For the demon lurked under the angel in me.

THE WORLD'S NEED

So many G.o.ds, so many creeds, So many paths that wind and wind, While just the art of being kind, Is all the sad world needs.