Lyrics of Life. Florence Earle Coates
martyr jews
song : "love never is too late"
in memory of caroline furness jayne
earth's mystery
For other versions of this work, see Earth's Mystery.
LYRICS OF LIFE
EARTH'S MYSTERY
I looked on Sorrow, tragical and dread;
Beheld the anguish in her sunken eyes,
Which yearned no longer upward to the skies—
As dumbly pleading to be comforted—
But bent their blinded vision on the dead:
The dead removed—how far!—from human sighs,
Lying majestic, as a conqueror lies,
Indifferent to tears, so costly shed.
But as I pondered, seeking, soul-oppressed,
To read the riddle of a world like this—
Where Nature still seems waiting to destroy,
I saw immortal Love descend and kiss,
With timid wonder, reverent and blest,
The quivering eyelids and the lips of Joy!
a traveller from altruria
For other versions of this work, see A Traveller from Altruria (Coates).
A TRAVELLER FROM ALTRURIA
He came to us with dreams to sell—
Ah, long ago it seems!
From regions where enchantments dwell,
He came to us with dreams to sell—
And we had need of dreams.
Our thought had planned with artful care,
Our patient toil had wrought,
The roomy treasure-houses where
Were heaped the costly and the rare—
But dreams we had not bought:
Nay; we had felt no need of these,
Until with dulcet strain,
Alluring as the melodies
That mock the lonely on the seas,
He made all else seem vain;
Bringing an aching sense of dearth,
A troubled, vague unrest,
A fear that we, whose care on Earth
Had been to garner things of worth,
Had somehow missed the best.
Then, as had been our wont before—
Unused in vain to sigh—
We turned our treasure o'er and o'er,
But found in all our vaunted store
No coin that dreams would buy.
We stood with empty hands: but gay
As though upborne on wings,
He left us; and at set of day
We heard him singing, far away,
The joy of simple things!
He left us, and with apathy
We gazed upon our gold;
But to the world's ascendancy
Submissive, soon we came to be
Much as we were of old.
Yet sometimes when the fragrant dawn
In early splendor beams,
And sometimes when, the twilight gone,
The moon o'er-silvers