WIDE are the plains—the plains that stretch to the west
An ocean of trackless waste, untrodden and rude,
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Bearing two crystal goblets in her hands
To a philosopher an Angel came:
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God gave him gifts: nor gave in vain
The great heart and the master-brain
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I have seen the plains lying baked and bare,
When drought and famine hold revel there,
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White Star of Womanhood, whose rays
Thro’ years of peace and years of stress
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Still the white stars burn overhead,
The green earth swings upon her way:
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O wilt Thou on the day when all is sifted,
All heights of Heaven, all depths of Hell laid bare,
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Where is God, whilst all around us sounds the jarring of the wheels,
When the cry of human anguish starwards thro’ His glory steals?
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IT WAS on the fourth of August, as five hundred of us lay
In the camp at Eland’s River, came a shell from De La Rey—
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In sea and air, in leaf and stone,
Where’er Truth’s magic words are writ,
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NOW is there rest for heart and brain
No mandate calls to him again.
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When from his place a forest monarch falls,
A thunder shakes the leafy leagues across,
24 lines, 1 comment
Dark purple, chased with sudden gloom and glory,
Like waves in wild unrest,
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Sing not of Rest
For heart, or brain, or the strong soul’s emotion
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There is scarlet on his forehead,
There are scars across his face,
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A handful of workers seeking the star of a strong intent --
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Here am I sent a wanderer like to thee,
And here a moment ere the night I stand.
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Prince of the race whose Empire is the Sea,
We welcome thee!
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Methought the unknown God we seek in vain
Grew weary of the evil He had wrought—
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SPRING
Across the street, across the grass,
81 lines, 2 comments
Friend, you have wealth and power,
Men go and come at your call,
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The Lights burn dim and make weird shadow-play,
The white walls of the ward are changed to grey,
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All things are Hers. Concealed or manifest,
Found or unfound, Her Spirit lives in each—
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The pen falls from his nerveless hand,
The light is fading from his eyes,
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Here in the silence cometh unto me
A song that is not mine,
42 lines, 1 comment
The roar and rush of life sweeps on;
Still shines the sun as once it shone:
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I stood in the heart of the city street,
I felt the throb of her pulses beat,
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Darkrose her shore in seas of amethyst
By tropic breezes kissed,
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Girl, with the soft grey eyes,
You to the flowers belong:
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Chequered with sunshine and shade—the umbrage of white clouds in motion—
Rearing their summits to Heaven, broken like waves on their strands,
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