By the Sea, and Other Verses

H. Lavinia Baily

By the Sea, and Other Verses

MYSELF AND YOU

There are only myself and you in the world,There are only myself and you;'Tis clear, then, that I unto you should be kind,And that you unto me should be true.And if I unto you could be always kind,And you unto me could be true,Then the criminal courts might all be adjourned,And the sword would have nothing to do.A few fertile acres are all that I need, —Not more than a hundred or two, —And the great, wide earth holds enough, I am sure,Enough for myself and for you.The sweet air of heaven is free to us all;Upon all fall the rain and the dew;And the glorious sun in his cycle of lightShines alike on myself and on you.The infinite love is as broad as the sky,And as deep as the ocean's blue,We may breathe it, bathe in it, live in it, aye,It is life for myself and for you.And the Christ who came when the angels sangWill come, if the song we renew,And reign in his kingdom, – the Prince of Peace, —Reigning over myself and you.O, then, may I be unto you always kind,And be you unto me always true;So the land may rest from its turmoil and strife,And the sword may have nothing to do.

BY THE SEA

AN ARGUMENT FOR PEACE"You do but dream; the world will never seeSuch time as this you picture, when the swordShall lie inglorious in its sheath, and beNo more of valorous deeds incentive or reward."The ocean breezes fanned them where they sat,At leisure from life's conflict, toil and care,Yet not unthoughtful, nor unmindful thatIn all its weal and woe they held their share.The rose-light charm and pride of earliest youthA chastening touch had toned to lovelier hue,And the white soul of purity and truthLooked out alike from eyes of brown and blue."I covet your fair hope," he spake again,"I cannot share it; all the hoary pastDenies that mightier prowess of the penThe poet claims, and proves it still surpassed"By sword and musket and the arts of war.And 'twere not so, – the query will return,Albeit such conflict we must all abhor —How should the fires of patriotism burn?"Their flames are kindled by the flash of arms,And fed by recount of heroic deed;The sanguinary story has its charmsTho the heart sicken o'er it as we read."And what were Greece without her Marathon?Or Rome, had not her Caesars fought and won?How reigns Britannia, Empress near and far,But for her Waterloo and Trafalgar?"And we, know not our souls a quickening thrillAt thought of Lexington and Bunker Hill?And with a pride no rival passion marsGreet we not now our glorious Stripes and Stars?"Yes, friend, I own your theory is fine;I grant your outlook far exceedeth mineIn excellence and beauty, in its scopeEmbracing that millennial age of blissThe spirit pants for while it chafes in this;I covet, tho I cannot share, your hope.""My hope," she answered, smiling, "is a faith;The kingdoms of this world are yet to beThe kingdoms of our blessed Lord, the Christ; —Lord of all life thro' dire and vengeful death —Wrought thro' such sacrifice, unspared, unpriced,His word and purpose must fulfilment see,And realms by mountains bounded or by seasMust own allegiance to the Prince of Peace."I yield to none" – and as she spoke there spedAcross the opal beauty of the seaA light-winged vessel, bearing at its headThe starry emblem of the brave and free —"I yield to none in loyalty and loveFor yon bright banner, but I hold it stillAs token to the world, all else above,Of peace on earth and unto man good will."God gave His land to be the home of man;And all that brightens and upbuilds the homeUplifts humanity; tramp, tribe and clan,Knowing no hearthstone, are content to roam,"But drawing nearer God the man returnsAnd rears his household altar. In some questThe feet may wander, but the heart still yearnsFor the soft home-light and the quiet rest."Think yet again, good brother, is it notFrom off such altar, whether it may glowIn princely palace or in lowliest cot,That the true flame of country-love must flow?While that enkindled by the flash of armsIs a 'strange fire,' consuming while it charms."Lives Greece less nobly in her Parthenon,In what her Solons wrote, her poets sang,Than in the gastly pride of Marathon,And kindred fields where victors' praises rang?"And we, enriched thro' Commerce, Letters, Art,Forgot our earlier grievances and scars,Are we not ready for a better part?Have we not now outgrown our need of wars?"Surely it should be so," he made reply;"The sated earth cries out against the flowOf human blood: 'How long? how long?' The cryMust pierce the heavens from writhing hearts below."But men heed not; the glamor and the gainOf warfare blind them to its sin and pain;They know not pity and they count not costTill armies meet and life and cause are lost."Would they but listen 'twere an errand blestTo plead against oppressor for oppressed;Would they but follow it were joy indeedUp the white hills of truth and peace to lead."But, ah! the multitudes are gone astray,The powerful of the earth will have their way;What profit, sister, in our prayers and tears?Why mar the spring-time gladness of our years"In vain pursuit of universal good?In fruitless care for earth's vast brotherhood?Glad would I grasp such work could I but see.Or near, or far, your hoped-for victory.""Whether they hear," she answered, "or forbear,'Tis ours with signal truths to light the skies;God's promises and warnings to declare; —How can men follow if no leader rise?"The Christ shall be the victor; O my friend,Why do we limit His almighty powerWho sees from far beginning to the end?Whose day may be an æon or an hour?"The sea is His; He made it; and His wordCan speak its wildest tumult into calm;As He may will its deepest founts are stirred,Or surface-ripples breathe a praiseful psalm."As well His power the rise and fall doth swayOf human passion, tho He suffer long;The puny pride of man shall yet obeyThe mandate of the Only Wise and Strong."But God would have the children of His graceIn this great reclamation have a share;And each in his appointed hour and placeMust stand, or other brow his crown will wear."She paused, and o'er them, as with magic spell,For a brief space a holy silence fell;Then while the sunset crimson of the skySet ocean all a-blush, he made reply:"Reason and candor justify your claim;The Infinite is infinite in all;The Power that touches into life that flameHolds earth and heaven subject to His call,And at His fiat peoples rise and fall."Your dauntless zeal doth shame my coward heart;Your word of faith my courage doth inspire;I see 'tis only noble to have partIn moral contest; not to fan the fireOf a false glory, which must ever feedOn souls that perish, and on hearts that bleed."And this I gather from your earnest plea; —That souls which walk in light and see the wayTo heights of truth yet unattained, must beFore-runners for their Lord, must work and prayFor the incoming of the perfect day."Join we in this sweet service; cherish stillThe trust that gives you courage for the fight;Your 'peaceful war' on all that's base and ill,Your patient battle for the pure, the right.Let us press on and mount the hills of light."The ocean murmur fell upon their earsSweeter than bird-song or the voice of mirth,As beamed her answering smile, thro' grateful tears,While her lips whispered only "Peace on earth.""Peace! peace!" – the evening zephyrs caught the strain,The wavelets sent the word across the sea;Exultant Nature trilled the glad refrain; —"Peace! peace! The Christ is come, and peace shall be!"

AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR

Neighbor, neighbor, prithee stay;Wherefore hasten on thy way?Give a moment's heed to me,I would ask a thing of thee.Neighbor, days and months have fled,Seasons one by one have sped,And to-night I greet thee hereAt the passing of the year.'Tis the time of reckoning now,Of new resolves and annual vow;Time of straightening ugly crooks,And careful balancing of books.Pardon if I now demandHow accounts of thine may stand;Hast thou rendered, fair and true,Unto every man his due?Hast thou given timely heedTo thy poorer brother's need?Hath thy strong arm been a stayTo the weaker on the way?When didst thou a joy impartTo thy sister, sad at heart!When didst thou her grief beguileWith the sunshine of thy smile?When the heavy-laden cameDidst thou breathe a Saviour's name?When temptations fierce did proveDidst thou whisper of His love?When hosts of evil have assailed,And against the right prevailed,Hast thou still undaunted stoodPleading for the pure and good?When – but neighbor, this is strange!While I question comes a change:All that I have asked of theeComes for answer back to me.Comes, against my wish and will,Comes and sets my heart a-thrill;Comes with terrors of the law,Filling me with fear and awe.Strange transition! Can it mean? —The marvel of this shifting scene —Yes, I read the mystery now.Neighbor, mine own soul art thou.Now, my soul, 'tis thine to sayHow the record stands to-dayGive account of loss or gain,Talent used or spent in vain.All unwitting how they spedI my listed queries read;Raised the duty-standard high,Challenged measurement thereby.While I queried came a change,Silent, solemn, passing strange; —Neighbor glided into mist,Soul and self were keeping tryst.And the queries come anew:Soul of mine, be brave and true;Lo! our books we balance now;I have questioned; answer thou.

RISEN

"He is risen; He is risen,Here His empty tomb you see;And He goeth as He told youTo the hills of Galilee."Thus to loving, loyal women,In the centuries agone,Angel voices told the storyOf the resurrection morn.He is risen! He is risen!Years hand down the glad refrain;Let the ages on to agesWaft the tidings yet again.He who near the Bethlehem mangerLowly child of earth was born,King of kings reigns all triumphantSince the resurrection morn.Christ is risen! Calvary's anguishAll a lost world's ransom paid;Then, with tears, "the hope of Israel"In the new-made tomb was laid.Deep and dark the desolationFalling with that night forlorn;Radiant the dawn awakeningWith the resurrection morn.He has risen! By this tokenWe with Him shall rise again;Faith shall vanquish doubt and terror,Joy shall banish grief and pain.No more fear of sin's temptation,No more dread of hatred's scorn,O the glory purchased for usOn the resurrection morn!Christ is risen! Bow before Him,To His courts an offering bring;Suffering Lord and Lamb victorious,Crown Him Conquerer, Priest and King.Robe of light for robe of mocking,Diadem for crown of thorn,Wears He now, and in His likenessRise we, satisfied, immortal,In the resurrection morn.

ELIZABETH CROWNED

Elizabeth of Hungary, a widow at the age of twenty, was sought in marriage by Frederick II., Emperor of Germany. She, having taken a vow never to marry again, declined his offer, and devoted her life to deeds of kindness and charity. She died at the age of twenty-four, and was canonized as a saint by Gregory IX. At this ceremony Frederick placed upon her head a golden crown, saying, "Since thou wouldst not be crowned as my Empress, I crown thee to-day as an immortal Queen in the kingdom of God."

When once I saw thee, fair, yet sad and lone, —Tho wealth and beauty waited at thy hand —I would have crowned thee, saintly one, mine own;Glad would have had thee share with me my throne,Bride of my heart, and Empress of my land!But thou wert wedded to thy valiant dead,And to the service of a Christ-like love;So by thy hand the suffering poor were led,And from thy bounty were the hungry fed,Till came thy summons to the Court Above.Now hast thou passed from tears and pain away,Thine ear hath caught the heavenly melodies; —So be it mine, with reverent touch, to-day,On thy fair head this diadem to lay,And crown thee Queen immortal for the skies!

WHO IS SUFFICIENT?

Six-and-thirty little mortalsComing to be taught;And mine that most "delightful taskTo rear the tender thought."Merry, mischief-loving children,Thoughtless, glad and gay,Loving lessons – "just a little,"Dearly loving play.Six-and-thirty souls immortal,Coming to be fed;Needing "food convenient for them,"As their daily bread.Bright and happy little children,Innocent and free,Coming here their life-long lessonsNow to learn of me.Listen to the toilsome routine,List, and answer them,For these things who is sufficient'Mong the sons of men?Now they, at the well-known summons,Cease their busy hum;And, some with pleasure, some reluctant,To the school-room come.Comes a cunning little urchinWith defiant eye,"Making music" with his marblesAs he passes by.But, alas! the pretty toys areTaken from him soon,And the music-loving WillieStrikes another tune!Comes a lisping little beauty,Scarce five summers old;Baby voice and blue eyes pleading,"Please, misth, I'm stho cold!"Little one, the world is chilly,All too cold for thee;From its storms "Our Father" shield thee,And thy refuge be.While I turn to caution JohnnyNot to make such noise;Mary parses: "Earth's an adverb,In the passive voice."Well, indeed, it must be passive,Else it is not clearHow such open language-murder,Goes unpunished here."Second Reader Class" reciting —"Lesson verse or prose?"None in all the class is certain;Each one thinks he knows."Well," is queried then, "the differenceWho can now define?"Answers Rob: "In verse they neverFinish out the line!"Boy, thy thought doth strangely thrill me,And as hours roll on,Hears my heart a solemn query:Is my day's work done?Do I make of this my life-taskProse or idle rhyme?Do I in the sight of HeavenFinish out the line?Oh, it is "too fine a knowledge"For our mortal sight,All these restless little creaturesHow to lead aright.He who prayeth while he worketh,Taking lessons stillOf the Friend of little children,Learning all His will;He alone can walk before themWorthily and well;He alone of life's strange languageCan the meaning tell.May I then with heart as tenderAs a little childLead my flock; and Father, keep themPure and undefiled.

PEACE

O blessed peace, that floweth like a river,Unstayed, unwearied, ever on and on;That hath its fount and spring in Christ the giver,And finds its ocean round the great white Throne.O peace of God, that passeth understanding,Thou art the answer to my soul's long quest;Doubts, fears and sins, their serried hosts disbanding,I leave, launch on thy wave, and anchored, rest.

BOYS AND GIRLS

We were "seven in all," as the dear rustic maidTo the poet so sweetly protested;And together we rambled and studied and played,Each imbibing a share of the sunshine and shadeWherewith our young life was invested.And black eyes and blue eyes and brown eyes and grayLooked up to the face of our mother,As she led us in study in labor or play,Or told of "Our Father," and taught us to pray,And to cherish and love one another.O, the rapture of being when life is a-tuneWith the song-life and beauty of morning;When the roseate dawn brightens into the noon,And the year hastens on to the splendor of June,In her fragrance and matchless adorning.So our years flitted by and the youngest of all —Our dark-eyed and fun-loving brother —Was grown to be manly and lithesome and tall,And to couteous titles we answered the call,But were still "boys" and "girls" to each other.O, the joy of endeavor, endurance and toilOn thro' summer-time vigor and sweetness,Of triumph o'er that which would hinder or foil,Of the patience of hope after tears and turmoil,In the glory of autumn's completeness.And the toil and the turmoil and tears have been ours —From our ranks we have missed a loved brotherWe've encountered the thorns, but we've cherished the flowers;We've passed under the clouds on to sunnier hours,And we're still "boys" and "girls" to each other.

A SMILE

The gliding of a fairy formAnd rosy lips that knew no guile,With wonder parted, came to ask,"Papa, what is a smile?"A smile, whate'er it is, then stoleThat gentle parent's features o'er;For ne'er to him had been proposedQuery so strange before.But while he pondered in his heartHow he should to his child reply,A new, triumphant joy lit upHer loving, lustrous eye; —And with this gladsome, new-found thought,She answered in her own behalf:"Oh, now, I know; a smile must beThe whisper to a laugh!"

"A SPARROW ALONE ON THE HOUSETOP"

Sing, little sparrow, sing thy song.No peril neareth thee;Tho night be dark or day be long,Or clouds hang low, sing on, sing on,The dear God heareth thee.Sing, little bird, whate'er befall —Trill out thine utmost need;Thou canst not soar, thou canst not fallBut He will note who knoweth all,And He thy plaint will heed.O little sparrow, far and highThy soft notes God-ward go,And I with thee send up my cry,And both shall somewhere find reply,God careth for us so.

TO MOTHER

O mother, from thy home beyond the starsHast thou not known the yearning of thy childFor thy sweet love? Hast thou not heard her wildAnd piteous moaning for thy soft caress?Felt her heart's aching for the tendernessAnd the low patience of thy loving voice?Hast thou not seen her 'mid life's toils and jars,Pant as a bird behind its prison bars,

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