Poems

Mary Baker Eddy

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• Publié par: chyaz
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 94
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Poems, by Mary Baker Eddy This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online atwwug.wtenberg.org Title: Poems Author: Mary Baker Eddy Release Date: November 30, 2008 [eBook #27370] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS***  

 

 

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POEMS

BY

MARY BAKER EDDY AUTHOROF "SCIENCEANDHEALTHWITHKEY TO THE SCRIPTURES"

Published by The Trustees under the Will of Mary Baker G. Eddy BOSTON, U.S.A. Authorized Literature of T HE F IRST C HURCH   OF C HRIST , S CIENTIST in Boston, Massachusetts C OPYRIGHT , 1910 B Y M ARY B AKER E DDY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

PREFACE

The poems garnered up in this little volume were written at different periods in the life of the author, dating from her early girlhood up to recent years. They were not written with a viewof making a book, each poem being the spontaneous outpouring of a deeply poetic nature and called forth by some experience that claimed her attention. The "Old Man of the Mountain," for instance, was written while the author was contemplating this lofty New Hampshire crag, whose rugged outlines resemble the profile of a human face. Inspired by the grandeur of this masterpiece of nature's handiwork, and looking "up through nature, unto nature's God," the poem began to take form in her thought, and alighting from her carriage, she seated herself by the roadside and began to write. Some tourists who were passing, and who made her acquaintance, asked her what she was writing, and she replied by reading the poem to them. They were so pleased with it that each requested a copy, which was subsequently mailed to them. Similar requests continued to reach the author for years afterward, until the poem finally found its way into print, appearing, together with "The Valley Cemetery," in a book "Gems for You," published in Manchester, N. H., in 1850, and again in Boston, in 1856. The poem on the "Dedication of a Temperance Hall," in Lynn, Mass., in 1866, was written for that occasion, and was sung by the audience as a dedicatory hymn. "The Liberty Bells" appeared in a Lynn, Mass., newspaper, under the date of February 3, 1865. A note from the author, which was published with the poem, read as follows: "M R . E DITOR :— In 1835 a mob in Boston (although Boston has since been the pioneer of anti-slavery) dispersed a meeting of the Female Anti-Slavery Society, and assailed the person of William Lloyd Garrison with such fury that the city authorities could protect him nowhere but in the walls of a jail. To-day, by order of Governor Andrew, the bells are ringing to celebrate the passing of a resolution in Congress prohibiting slavery in the United States." All of the author's best-known hymns are included in this collection, as well as many poems written in girlhood and during the years she resided in Lynn, Mass., and which appeared in various publications of that day. Among her earliest poems are "Upward," "Resolutions for the Day," "Autumn" (written in a maple grove), "Alphabet and Bayonet," and "The Country-Seat" (written while visiting a family friend in the beautiful suburbs of Boston); yet, even these are characterized by the same lofty trend of thought that reached its fulness in her later productions.

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In May, 1910, Mrs. Eddy requested her publisher to prepare a fewbound volumes of her poems, for private distribution. When this became known to her friends, they urged her to allowa popular edition to be issued, to which she assented. With grateful acknowledgment, therefore, of this permission, this little volume is presented to the public, in the hope that these gems of purest thought from this spiritually-minded author will prove a joy to the heavy laden and a balm to the weary heart. A DAM H. D ICKEY . C HESTNUT H ILL , M ASS ., September 24, 1910.

  O LD M AN   OF   THE M OUNTAIN C ONSTANCY M OTHER ' S E VENING P RAYER L OVE I' M S ITTING A LONE T HE U NITED S TATES   TO G REAT B RITAIN C HRIST M Y R EFUGE "F EED M Y S HEEP " T HE V ALLEY C EMETERY U PWARD T HE O AK   ON   THE M OUNTAIN ' S S UMMIT W OMAN ' S R IGHTS T HE N EW C ENTURY T O M Y A BSENT B ROTHER S IGNS   OF   THE H EART F LOWERS T O   THE O LD Y EAR —1865 I NVOCATION   FOR 1868 C HRISTMAS M ORN E ASTER M ORN R ESOLUTIONS   FOR   THE D AY O FOR T HY W INGS , S WEET B IRD ! C OME T HOU W ISH   AND I TEM D EDICATION   OF   A T PMENAREEC H ALL L INES T O   THE S UNDAY S CHOOL C HILDREN H OPE T O E TTA N EVERMORE M EETING   OF M Y D EPARTED M OTHER   AND H USBAND I SLE   OF W IGHT S PRING J UNE R ONDELET A UTUMN A LPHABET   AND B AYONET T HE C OUNTRY - SEAT T O E LLEN . "S ING M E T HAT S ONG !" L INES , ON V ISITING P INE G ROVE C EMETERY A V ERSE T RUTH "T HE L IBERTY B ELLS "

CONTENTS

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"M EMENTO " C MOUMINNO H YMN L AUS D EO O UR N ATIONAL T HANKSGIVING H YMN S DEIFSITA

POEMS

OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN

Gigantic sire, unfallen still thy crest! Primeval dweller where the wild winds rest, Beyond the ken of mortal e'er to tell What power sustains thee in thy rock-bound cell. Or if, when first creation vast began, And far the universal fiat ran, "Let there be light"—from chaos dark set free, Ye rose, a monument of Deity, Proud from yon cloud-crowned height to look henceforth On insignificance that peoples earth, Recalling oft the bitter draft which turns The mind to meditate on what it learns. Stern, passionless, no soul those looks betray; Though kindred rocks, to sport at mortal clay— Much as the chisel of the sculptor's art "Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart." Ah, who can fathom thee! Ambitious man, Like a trained falcon in the Gallic van, Guided and led, can never reach to thee With all the strength of weakness—vanity! Great as thou art, and paralleled by none, Admired by all, still art thou drear and lone! The moon looks down upon thine exiled height; The stars, so cold, so glitteringly bright, On wings of morning gladly flit away, Yield to the sun's more genial, mighty ray; The white waves kiss the murmuring rill— But thy deep silence is unbroken still.

CONSTANCY

When starlight blends with morning's hue, I miss thee as the flower the dew! When noonday's length'ning shadows flee, I think of thee, I think of thee! With evening, memories reappear— I watch th chair, and wish thee here;

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Till sleep sets drooping fancy free To dream of thee, to dream of thee! Since first we met, in weal or woe It hath been thus; and must be so Till bursting bonds our spirits part And Love divine doth fill my heart. Written many years ago.

MOTHER'S EVENING PRAYER

O gentle presence, peace and joy and power; O Life divine, that owns each waiting hour, Thou Love that guards the nestling's faltering flight! Keep Thou my child on upward wing tonight. Love is our refuge; only with mine eye Can I behold the snare, the pit, the fall: His habitation high is here, and nigh, His arm encircles me, and mine, and all. O make me glad for every scalding tear, For hope deferred, ingratitude, disdain! Wait, and love more for every hate, and fear No ill,—since God is good, and loss is gain. Beneath the shadow of His mighty wing; In that sweet secret of the narrow way, Seeking and finding, with the angels sing: "Lo, I am with you alway,"—watch and pray. No snare, no fowler, pestilence or pain; No night drops down upon the troubled breast, When heaven's aftersmile earth's tear-drops gain, And mother finds her home and heav'nly rest.

LOVE

Brood o'er us with Thy shelt'ring wing, 'Neath which our spirits blend Like brother birds, that soar and sing, And on the same branch bend. The arrow that doth wound the dove Darts not from those who watch and love. If thou the bending reed wouldst break By thought or word unkind, Pray that his spirit you partake, Who loved and healed mankind: Seek holy thoughts and heavenly strain, That make men one in love remain. Learn, too, that wisdom's rod is given For faith to kiss, and know; That greetings glorious from high heaven, Whence joys supernal flow, Come from that Love, divinely near, Which chastens pride and earth-born fear, Through God, who gave that word of might Which swelled creation's lay:

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"Let there be light, and there was light." What chased the clouds away? 'Twas Love whose finger traced aloud A bow of promise on the cloud. Thou to whose power our hope we give, Free us from human strife. Fed by Thy love divine we live, For Love alone is Life; And life most sweet, as heart to heart Speaks kindly when we meet and part.

I'M SITTING ALONE

I'm sitting alone where the shadows fall In somber groups at the vesper-call, Where tear-dews of night seek the loving rose, Her bosom to fill with mortal woes. I'm waiting alone for the bridal hour Of nymph and naiad from woodland bower; Till vestal pearls that on leaflets lay, Ravished with beauty the eye of day. I'm watching alone o'er the starlit glow, O'er the silv'ry moon and ocean flow; And sketching in light the heaven of my youth— Its starry hopes and its waves of truth. I'm dreaming alone of its changeful sky— What rainbows of rapture floated by! Of a mother's love, that no words could speak When parting the ringlets to kiss my cheek. I'm thinking alone of a fair young bride, The light of a home of love and pride; How the glance of her husband's watchful eye Turned to his star of idolatry. I'm picturing alone a glad young face, Upturned to his mother's in playful grace; And the unsealed fountains of grief and joy That gushed at the birth of that beautiful boy. I'm weeping alone that the vision is fled, The leaves all faded, the fruitage shed, And wishing this earth more gifts from above, Our reason made right and hearts all love. Lynn, Mass.,September 3, 1866.

THE UNITED STATES TO GREAT BRITAIN

Hail, brother! fling thy banner To the billows and the breeze; We proffer thee warm welcome With our hand, though not our knees. Lord of the main and manor! Thy palm, in ancient day, Didst rock the country's cradle

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That wakes thy laureate's lay. The hoar fight is forgotten; Our eagle, like the dove, Returns to bless a bridal Betokened from above. List, brother! angels whisper To Judah's sceptered race — , "Thou of the self-same spirit, Allied by nations' grace, "Wouldst cheer the hosts of heaven; For Anglo-Israel, lo! Is marching under orders; His hand averts the blow. " Brave Britain, blest America! Unite your battle-plan; Victorious, all who live it,— The love for God and man. Boston Herald, Sunday, May 15, 1898.

CHRIST MY REFUGE

O'er waiting harpstrings of the mind There sweeps a strain, Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind The power of pain, And wake a white-winged angel throng Of thoughts, illumed By faith, and breathed in raptured song, With love perfumed. Then His unveiled, sweet mercies show Life's burdens light. I kiss the cross, and wake to know A world more bright. And o'er earth's troubled, angry sea I see Christ walk, And come to me, and tenderly, Divinely talk. Thus Truth engrounds me on the rock, Upon Life's shore, 'Gainst which the winds and waves can shock, Oh, nevermore! From tired joy and grief afar, And nearer Thee,— Father, where Thine own children are, I love to be. My prayer, some daily good to do To Thine, for Thee; An offering pure of Love, whereto God leadeth me.

" FEED MY SHEEP "

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Shepherd, show me how to go O'er the hillside steep, How to gather, how to sow,— How to feed Thy sheep; I will listen for Thy voice, Lest my footsteps stray; I will follow and rejoice All the rugged way. Thou wilt bind the stubborn will, Wound the callous breast, Make self-righteousness be still, Break earth's stupid rest. Strangers on a barren shore, Lab'ring long and lone, We would enter by the door, And Thou know'st Thine own; So, when day grows dark and cold, Tear or triumph harms, Lead Thy lambkins to the fold, Take them in Thine arms; Feed the hungry, heal the heart, Till the morning's beam; White as wool, ere they depart, Shepherd, wash them clean.

THE VALLEY CEMETERY

Ye soft sighing zephyrs through foliage and vine! Ye echoing moans from the footsteps of time! Break not on the silence, unless thou canst bear A message from heaven—"No partings are there." Here gloom hath enchantment in beauty's array, And whispering voices are calling away— Their wooings are soft as the vision more vain— I would live in their empire, or die in their chain. Here smileth the blossom and sunshine not dead— Flowers fresh as the pang in the bosom that bled,— Yes, constant as love that outliveth the grave, And time cannot quench in oblivion's wave. And thou, gentle cypress, in evergreen tears, Art constant and hopeful though winter appears. My heart hath thy verdure, it blossoms above; Like thee, it endureth and liveth in love. Ambition, come hither! These vaults will unfold The sequel of power, of glory, or gold; Then rush into life, and roll on with its tide, And bustle and toil for its pomp and its pride. The tired wings flitting through far crimson glow, Which steepeth the trees when the day-god is low; The voice of the night-bird must here send a thrill To the heart of the leaves when the winds are all still. 'Mid graves do I hear the glad voices that swell, And call to my spirit with seraphs to dwell; They come with a breath from the verdant springtime, And waken my joy, as in earliest prime. Blest beings departed! Ye echoes at dawn! O tell of their radiant home and its morn!

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Then I'll think of its glory, and rest till I see My loved ones in glory still waiting for me.

UPWARD

I've watched in the azure the eagle's proud wing, His soaring majestic, and feathersome fling— Careening in liberty higher and higher— Like genius unfolding a quenchless desire. Would a tear dim his eye, or pinion lose power To gaze on the lark in her emerald bower? When higher he soareth to compass his rest, What vision so bright as the dream in his breast! God's eye is upon him. He penciled his path Whose omniscient notice the frail fledgling hath. Though lightnings be lurid and earthquakes may shock, He rides on the whirlwind or rests on the rock. My course, like the eagle's, oh, still be it high, Celestial the breezes that waft o'er its sky! God's eye is upon me—I am not alone When onward and upward and heavenward borne. Written in early years.

THE OAK ON THE MOUNTAIN'S SUMMIT

Oh, mountain monarch, at whose feet I stand,— Clouds to adorn thy brow, skies clasp thy hand,— Nature divine, in harmony profound, With peaceful presence hath begirt thee round. And thou, majestic oak, from yon high place Guard'st thou the earth, asleep in night's embrace,— And from thy lofty summit, pouring down Thy sheltering shade, her noonday glories crown? Whate'er thy mission, mountain sentinel, To my lone heart thou art a power and spell; A lesson grave, of life, that teacheth me To love the Hebrew figure of a tree. Faithful and patient be my life as thine; As strong to wrestle with the storms of time; As deeply rooted in a soil of love; As grandly rising to the heavens above.

WOMAN'S RIGHTS

Grave on her monumental pile; She won from vice, by virtue's smile, Her dazzling crown, her sceptered throne, Affection's wreath, a happy home;

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The right to worship deep and pure, To bless the orphan, feed the poor; Last at the cross to mourn her Lord, First at the tomb to hear his word; To fold an angel's wings below; And hover o'er the couch of woe; To nurse the Bethlehem babe so sweet, The right to sit at Jesus' feet; To form the bud for bursting bloom, The hoary head with joy to crown; In short, the right to work and pray, "To point to heaven and lead the way." Lynn, Mass.,May 6, 1876.

THE NEW CENTURY

Thou God-crowned, patient century, Thine hour hath come! Eternity Draws nigh—and, beckoning from above, One hundred years, aflame with Love, Again shall bid old earth good-by— And, lo, the light! far heaven is nigh! New themes seraphic, Life divine, And bliss that wipes the tears of time Away, will enter, when they may, And bask in one eternal day. 'Tis writ on earth, on leaf and flower: Love hath one race, one realm, one power. Dear God! how great, how good Thou art To heal humanity's sore heart; To probe the wound, then pour the balm— A life perfected, strong and calm. The dark domain of pain and sin Surrenders—Love doth enter in, And peace is won, and lost is vice: Right reigns, and blood was not its price. Pleasant View, Concord, N. H.,January, 1901.

TO MY ABSENT BROTHER

Dwells there a shadow on thy brow— A look that years impart? Does there a thought of vanished hours Come ever o'er thy heart? Or give those earnest eyes yet back An image of the soul, Mirrored in truth, in light and joy, Above the world's control? So may their gaze be ever fraught With utterance deep and strong, Yielding a holy strength to right, A stern rebuke to wrong! Th soul u borne on wisdom's win s

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In brighter morn will find Life hath a higher recompense Than just to please mankind. Supreme and omnipresent God, Guide him in wisdom's way! Give peaceful triumph to the truth, Bid error melt away! Lynn, Mass.,November 8, 1866.

SIGNS OF THE HEART

Come to me, joys of heaven! Breathe through the summer air A balm—the long-lost leaven Dissolving death, despair! O little heart, To me thou art A sign that never can depart. Come to me, peace on earth! From out life's billowy sea,— A wave of welcome birth,— The Life that lives in Thee! O Love divine, This heart of Thine Is all I need to comfort mine. Come when the shadows fall, And night grows deeply dark; The barren brood, O call With song of morning lark; And from above, Dear heart of Love, Send us thy white-winged dove. Pleasant View, Concord, N. H., 1899.

FLOWERS

Mirrors of morn Whence the dewdrop is born, Soft tints of the rainbow and skies— Sisters of song, What a shadowy throng Around you in memory rise! Far do ye flee, From your green bowers free, Fair floral apostles of love, Sweetly to shed Fragrance fresh round the dead, And breath of the living above. Flowers for the brave— Be he monarch or slave, Whose heart bore its grief and is still! Flowers for the kind— Aye, the Christians who wind Wreaths for the triumphs o'er ill!

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