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Page 17 - What gulfs between him and the seraphim! Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades? What the long reaches of the peaks of song, The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Page 15 - BOWED by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world. Who made him dead to rapture and despair, A thing that grieves not and that never hopes, Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox? Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw? Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow? Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
Page 17 - How will you ever straighten up this shape; Touch it again with immortality; Give back the upward looking and the light; Rebuild in it the music and the dream ; Make right the immemorial infamies, Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes? O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, How will the Future reckon with this Man ? How answer his brute question in that hour When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores?
Page 28 - Teach me, Father, how to go Softly as the grasses grow; Hush my soul to meet the shock Of the wild world as a rock; But my spirit, propt with power, Make as simple as a flower...
Page 18 - O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, How will the Future reckon with this man? How answer his brute question in that hour When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores? How will it be with kingdoms and with kings With those who shaped him to the thing he is When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world, After the silence of the centuries?
Page 28 - Teach me, Father, how to be Kind and patient as a tree. Joyfully the crickets croon Under shady oak at noon; Beetle, on his mission bent, Tarries in that cooling tent. Let me, also, cheer a spot, Hidden field or garden grot Place where passing souls can rest On the way and be their best.
Page 21 - The crest and crowning of all good, Life's final star, is Brotherhood...
Page 21 - Break the dead branches from the path ; Our hope is in the aftermath Our hope is in heroic men, Star-led to build the world again. To this Event the ages ran : Make way for Brotherhood make way for Man.
Page 17 - O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, Is this the handiwork you give to God, This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched? How will you ever straighten up this shape; Touch it again with Immortality; Give back the upward looking and the light; Rebuild in it the music and the dream; Make right the immemorial infamies, Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?