Part 12

Behold a star appearing in the South, A star that shines apart from other stars, Ruddy and fierce like Mars! Out of the reeking smoke of cannon's mouth That veils the slaughter of the Alamo, Where heroes face the foe, One man against a score, with blood-choked breath Shouting the watchword, "Victory or Death--" Out of the dreadful cloud that settles low On Goliad's plain, Where thrice a hundred prisoners lie slain Beneath the broken word of Mexico-- Out of the fog of factions and of feuds That ever drifts and broods Above the bloody path of border war, Leaps the Lone Star!

What light is this that does not dread the dark? What star is this that fights a stormy way To San Jacinto's field of victory? It is the fiery spark That burns within the breast Of Anglo-Saxon men, who can not rest Under a tyrant's sway; The upward-leading ray That guides the brave who give their lives away Rather than not be free! O question not, but honour every name, Travis and Crockett, Bowie, Bonham, Ward, Fannin and King, and all who drew the sword And dared to die for Texan liberty! Yea, write them all upon the roll of fame, But no less love and equal honour give To those who paid the longer sacrifice-- Austin and Houston, Burnet, Rusk, Lamar And all the stalwart men who dared to live Long years of service to the lonely star.

Great is the worth of such heroic souls: Amid the strenuous turmoil of their deeds, They clearly speak of something that controls The higher breeds of men by higher needs Than bees, content with honey in their hives! Ah, not enough the narrow lives On profitable toil intent! And not enough the guerdons of success Garnered in homes of affluent selfishness! A noble discontent Cries for a wider scope To use the wider wings of human hope; A vision of the common good Opens the prison-door of solitude; And, once beyond the wall, Breathing the ampler air, The heart becomes aware _That life without a country is not life at all._ A country worthy of a freeman's love; A country worthy of a good man's prayer; A country strong, and just, and brave, and fair,-- A woman's form of beauty throned above The shrine where noble aspirations meet-- To live for her is great, to die is sweet!

Heirs of the rugged pioneers Who dreamed this dream and made it true, Remember that they dreamed for you. They did not fear their fate In those tempestuous years, But put their trust in God, and with keen eyes, Trained in the open air for looking far, They saw the many-million-acred land Won from the desert by their hand, Swiftly among the nations rise,-- Texas a sovereign State, And on her brow a star!

III

THE CONSTELLATION

How strange that the nature of light is a thing beyond our ken, And the flame of the tiniest candle flows from a fountain sealed! How strange that the meaning of life, in the little lives of men, So often baffles our search with a mystery unrevealed!

But the larger life of man, as it moves in its secular sweep, Is the working out of a Sovereign Will whose ways appear; And the course of the journeying stars on the dark blue boundless deep, Is the place where our science rests in the reign of law most clear.

I would read the story of Texas as if it were written on high; I would look from afar to follow her path through the calms and storms; With a faith in the worldwide sway of the Reason that rules in the sky, And gathers and guides the starry host in clusters and swarms.

When she rose in the pride of her youth, she seemed to be moving apart, As a single star in the South, self-limited, self-possessed; But the law of the constellation was written deep in her heart, And she heard when her sisters called, from the North and the East and the West.

They were drawn together and moved by a common hope and aim-- The dream of a sign that should rule a third of the heavenly arch; The soul of a people spoke in their call, and Texas came To enter the splendid circle of States in their onward march.

So the glory gathered and grew and spread from sea to sea, And the stars of the great republic lent each other light; For all were bound together in strength, and each was free-- Suddenly broke the tempest out of the ancient night!

It came as a clash of the force that drives and the force that draws; And the stars were riven asunder, the heavens were desolate, While brother fought with brother, each for his country's cause: But the country of one was the Nation, the country of other the State.

Oh, who shall measure the praise or blame in a strife so vast? And who shall speak of traitors or tyrants when all were true? We lift our eyes to the sky, and rejoice that the storm is past, And we thank the God of all that the Union shines in the blue.

Yea, it glows with the glory of peace and the hope of a mighty race, High over the grave of broken chains and buried hates; And the great, big star of Texas is shining clear in its place In the constellate symbol and sign of the free United States.

IV

AFTER THE PIONEERS

After the pioneers-- Big-hearted, big-handed lords of the axe and the plow and the rifle, Tan-faced tamers of horses and lands, themselves remaining tameless, Full of fighting, labour and romance, lovers of rude adventure-- After the pioneers have cleared the way to their homes and graves on the prairies:

After the State-builders-- Zealous and jealous men, dreamers, debaters, often at odds with each other, All of them sure it is well to toil and to die, if need be, Just for the sake of founding a country to leave to their children-- After the builders have done their work and written their names upon it:

After the civil war-- Wildest of all storms, cruel and dark and seemingly wasteful, Tearing up by the root the vines that were splitting the old foundations, Washing away with a rain of blood and tears the dust of slavery, After the cyclone has passed and the sky is fair to the far horizon; After the era of plenty and peace has come with full hands to Texas, Then--what then?

Is it to be the life of an indolent heir, fat-witted and self-contented, Dwelling at ease in the house that others have builded, Boasting about the country for which he has done nothing? Is it to be an age of corpulent, deadly-dull prosperity, Richer and richer crops to nourish a race of Philistines, Bigger and bigger cities full of the same confusion and sorrow, The people increasing mightily but no increase of the joy? Is this what the forerunners wished and toiled to win for you, This the reward of war and the fruitage of high endeavor, This the goal of your hopes and the vision that satisfies you?

Nay, stand up and answer--I can read what is in your hearts-- You, the children of those who followed the wild-bees, You, the children of those who served the Lone Star, Now that the hives are full and the star is fixed in the constellation, I know that the best of you still are lovers of sweetness and light!

You hunger for honey that comes from invisible gardens; Pure, translucent, golden thoughts and feelings and inspirations, Sweetness of all the best that has bloomed in the mind of man. You rejoice in the light that is breaking along the borders of science; The hidden rays that enable a man to look through a wall of stone; The unseen, fire-filled wings that carry his words across the ocean; The splendid gift of flight that shines, half-captured, above him; The gleam of a thousand half-guessed secrets, just ready to be discovered! You dream and devise great things for the coming race-- Children of yours who shall people and rule the domain of Texas; They shall know, they shall comprehend more than their fathers, They shall grow in the vigour of well-rounded manhood and womanhood, Riper minds, richer hearts, finer souls, the only true wealth of a nation-- The league-long fields of the State are pledged to ensure this harvest!

Your old men have dreamed this dream and your young men have seen this vision. The age of romance has not gone, it is only beginning; Greater words than the ear of man has heard are waiting to be spoken, Finer arts than the eyes of man have seen are sleeping to be awakened: Science exploring the scope of the world, Poetry breathing the hope of the world, Music to measure and lead the onward march of man!

Come, ye honoured and welcome guests from the elder nations, Princes of science and arts and letters, Look on the walls that embody the generous dream of one of the old men of Texas, Enter these halls of learning that rise in the land of the pioneer's log-cabin, Read the confessions of faith that are carved on the stones around you: Faith in the worth of the smallest fact and the laws that govern the starbeams, Faith in the beauty of truth and the truth of perfect beauty, Faith in the God who creates the souls of men by knowledge and love and worship.

This is the faith of the New Democracy-- Proud and humble, patiently pressing forward, Praising her heroes of old and training her future leaders, Seeking her crown in a nobler race of men and women-- After the pioneers, sweetness and light!

October, 1912.

[1] Read at the Dedication of the Rice Institute, Houston, Texas, October, 1912.

WHO FOLLOW THE FLAG

PHI BETA KAPPA ODE

HARVARD UNIVERSITY

June 30, 1910

I

All day long in the city's canyon-street, With its populous cliffs alive on either side, I saw a river of marching men like a tide Flowing after the flag: and the rhythmic beat Of the drums, and the bugles' resonant blare Metred the tramp, tramp, tramp of a myriad feet, While the red-white-and-blue was fluttering everywhere, And the heart of the crowd kept time to a martial air:

_O brave flag, O bright flag, O flag to lead the free! The glory of thy silver stars, Engrailed in blue above the bars Of red for courage, white for truth, Has brought the world a second youth And drawn a hundred million hearts to follow after thee._

II

Old Cambridge saw thee first unfurled, By Washington's far-reaching hand, To greet, in Seventy-six, the wintry morn Of a new year, and herald to the world Glad tidings from a Western land,-- A people and a hope new-born! The double cross then filled thine azure field, In token of a spirit loath to yield The breaking ties that bound thee to a throne. But not for long thine oriflamme could bear That symbol of an outworn trust in kings. The wind that bore thee out on widening wings Called for a greater sign and all thine own,-- A new device to speak of heavenly laws And lights that surely guide the people's cause. Oh, greatly did they hope, and greatly dare, Who bade the stars in heaven fight for them, And set upon their battle-flag a fair New constellation as a diadem! Along the blood-stained banks of Brandywine The ragged troops were rallied to this sign; Through Saratoga's woods it fluttered bright Amid the perils of the hard-won fight; O'er Yorktown's meadows broad and green It hailed the glory of the final scene; And when at length Manhattan saw The last invaders' line of scarlet coats Pass Bowling Green, and fill the waiting boats And sullenly withdraw, The flag that proudly flew Above the battered line of buff and blue, Marching, with rattling drums and shrilling pipes, Along the Bowery and down Broadway, Was this that leads the great parade to-day,-- The glorious banner of the stars and stripes.

_First of the flags of earth to dare A heraldry so high; First of the flags of earth to bear The blazons of the sky; Long may thy constellation glow, Foretelling happy fate; Wider thy starry circle grow, And every star a State!_

III

Pass on, pass on, ye flashing files Of men who march in militant array; Ye thrilling bugles, throbbing drums, Ring out, roll on, and die away; And fade, ye crowds, with the fading day! Around the city's lofty piles Of steel and stone The lilac veil of dusk is thrown, Entangled full of sparks of fairy light; And the never-silent heart of the city hums To a homeward-turning tune before the night. But far above, on the sky-line's broken height, From all the towers and domes outlined In gray and gold along the city's crest, I see the rippling flag still take the wind With a promise of good to come for all mankind.

IV

O banner of the west, No proud and brief parade, That glorifies a nation's holiday With show of troops for warfare dressed, Can rightly measure or display The mighty army thou hast made Loyal to guard thy more than royal sway. Millions have come across the sea To find beneath thy shelter room to grow; Millions were born beneath thy folds and know No other flag but thee. And other, darker millions bore the yoke Of bondage in thy borders till the voice Of Lincoln spoke, And sent thee forth to set the bondmen free. Rejoice, dear flag, rejoice! Since thou hast proved and passed that bitter strife, Richer thy red with blood of heroes wet, Purer thy white through sacrificial life, Brighter thy blue wherein new stars are set. Thou art become a sign, Revealed in heaven to speak of things divine: Of Truth that dares To slay the lie it sheltered unawares; Of Courage fearless in the fight, Yet ever quick its foemen to forgive; Of Conscience earnest to maintain its right And gladly grant the same to all who live. Thy staff is deeply planted in the fact That nothing can ennoble man Save his own act, And naught can make him worthy to be free But practice in the school of liberty. The cords are two that lift thee to the sky: Firm faith in God, the King who rules on high; And never-failing trust In human nature, full of faults and flaws, Yet ever answering to the inward call That bids it set the "ought" above the "must," In all its errors wiser than it seems, In all its failures full of generous dreams, Through endless conflict rising without pause To self-dominion, charactered in laws That pledge fair-play alike to great and small, And equal rights for each beneath the rule of all. These are thy halyards, banner bold, And while these hold, Thy brightness from the sky shall never fall, Thy broadening empire never know decrease,-- Thy strength is union and thy glory peace.

V

Look forth across thy widespread lands, O flag, and let thy stars to-night be eyes To see the visionary hosts Of men and women grateful to be thine, That joyfully arise From all thy borders and thy coasts, And follow after thee in endless line! They lift to thee a forest of saluting hands; They hail thee with a rolling ocean-roar Of cheers; and as the echo dies, There comes a sweet and moving song Of treble voices from the childish throng Who run to thee from every school-house door. Behold thine army! Here thy power lies: The men whom freedom has made strong, And bound to follow thee by willing vows; The women greatened by the joys Of motherhood to rule a happy house; The vigorous girls and boys, Whose eager faces and unclouded brows Foretell the future of a noble race, Rich in the wealth of wisdom and true worth! While millions such as these to thee belong, What foe can do thee wrong, What jealous rival rob thee of thy place Foremost of all the flags of earth?

VI

My vision darkens as the night descends; And through the mystic atmosphere I feel the creeping coldness that portends A change of spirit in my dream The multitude that moved with song and cheer Have vanished, yet a living stream Flows on and follows still the flag, But silent now, with leaden feet that lag And falter in the deepening gloom,-- A weird battalion bringing up the rear. Ah, who are these on whom the vital bloom Of life has withered to the dust of doom? These little pilgrims prematurely worn And bent as if they bore the weight of years? These childish faces, pallid and forlorn, Too dull for laughter and too hard for tears? Is this the ghost of that insane crusade That led ten thousand children long ago, A flock of innocents, deceived, betrayed, Yet pressing on through want and woe To meet their fate, faithful and unafraid? Nay, for a million children now Are marching in the long pathetic line, With weary step and early wrinkled brow; And at their head appears no holy sign Of hope in heaven; For unto them is given No cross to carry, but a cross to drag. Before their strength is ripe they bear The load of labour, toiling underground In dangerous mines and breathing heavy air Of crowded shops; their tender lives are bound To service of the whirling, clattering wheels That fill the factories with dust and noise; They are not girls and boys, But little "hands" who blindly, dumbly feed With their own blood the hungry god of Greed. Robbed of their natural joys, And wounded with a scar that never heals, They stumble on with heavy-laden soul, And fall by thousands on the highway lined With little graves; or reach at last their goal Of stunted manhood and embittered age, To brood awhile with dark and troubled mind, Beside the smouldering fire of sullen rage, On life's unfruitful work and niggard wage. Are these the regiments that Freedom rears To serve her cause in coming years? Nay, every life that Avarice doth maim And beggar in the helpless days of youth, Shall surely claim A just revenge, and take it without ruth; And every soul denied the right to grow Beneath the flag, shall be its secret foe. Bow down, dear land, in penitence and shame! Remember now thine oath, so nobly sworn, To guard an equal lot For every child within thy borders born! These are thy children whom thou hast forgot: They have the bitter right to live, but not The blessed right to look for happiness. O lift thy liberating hand once more, To loose thy little ones from dark duress; The vital gladness to their hearts restore In healthful lessons and in happy play; And set them free to climb the upward way That leads to self-reliant nobleness. Speak out, my country, speak at last, As thou hast spoken in the past, And clearly, bravely say: "I will defend The coming race on whom my hopes depend: Beneath my flag and on my sacred soil No child shall bear the crushing yoke of toil."

VII

Look up, look up, ye downcast eyes! The night is almost gone: Along the new horizon flies The banner of the dawn; The eastern sky is banded low With white and crimson bars, While far above the morning glow The everlasting stars.

_O bright flag, O brave flag, O flag to lead the free! The hand of God thy colours blent, And heaven to earth thy glory lent, To shield the weak, and guide the strong To make an end of human wrong, And draw a countless human host to follow after thee!_

STAIN NOT THE SKY

Ye gods of battle, lords of fear, Who work your iron will as well As once ye did with sword and spear, With rifled gun and rending shell,-- Masters of sea and land, forbear The fierce invasion of the inviolate air!

With patient daring man hath wrought A hundred years for power to fly; And will you make his winged thought A hovering horror in the sky, Where flocks of human eagles sail, Dropping their bolts of death on hill and dale?

Ah no, the sunset is too pure, The dawn too fair, the noon too bright For wings of terror to obscure Their beauty, and betray the night That keeps for man, above his wars, The tranquil vision of untroubled stars.

Pass on, pass on, ye lords of fear! Your footsteps in the sea are red, And black on earth your paths appear With ruined homes and heaps of dead. Pass on to end your transient reign, And leave the blue of heaven without a stain.

The wrong ye wrought will fall to dust, The right ye shielded will abide; The world at last will learn to trust In law to guard, and love to guide; And Peace of God that answers prayer Will fall like dew from the inviolate air.

March 5, 1914.

PEACE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC

O Lord our God, Thy mighty hand Hath made our country free; From all her broad and happy land May praise arise to Thee. Fulfill the promise of her youth, Her liberty defend; By law and order, love and truth, America befriend!

The strength of every State increase In Union's golden chain; Her thousand cities fill with peace, Her million fields with grain. The virtues of her mingled blood In one new people blend; By unity and brotherhood, America befriend!

O suffer not her feet to stray; But guide her untaught might, That she may walk in peaceful day, And lead the world in light. Bring down the proud, lift up the poor, Unequal ways amend; By justice, nation-wide and sure, America befriend!

Thro' all the waiting land proclaim Thy gospel of good-will; And may the music of Thy name In every bosom thrill. O'er hill and vale, from sea to sea. Thy holy reign extend; By faith and hope and charity, America befriend!

THE RED FLOWER AND GOLDEN STARS

_These verses were written during the terrible world-war, and immediately after. The earlier ones had to be unsigned because America was still "neutral" and I held a diplomatic post. The rest of them were printed after I had resigned, and was free to speak out, and to take active service in the Navy, when America entered the great conflict for liberty and peace on earth._

Avalon, February 22, 1920.

THE RED FLOWER

June, 1914

In the pleasant time of Pentecost, By the little river Kyll, I followed the angler's winding path Or waded the stream at will, And the friendly fertile German land Lay round me green and still.

But all day long on the eastern bank Of the river cool and clear, Where the curving track of the double rails Was hardly seen though near, The endless trains of German troops Went rolling down to Trier.

They packed the windows with bullet heads And caps of hodden gray; They laughed and sang and shouted loud When the trains were brought to a stay; They waved their hands and sang again As they went on their iron way.

No shadow fell on the smiling land, No cloud arose in the sky; I could hear the river's quiet tune When the trains had rattled by; But my heart sank low with a heavy sense Of trouble,--I knew not why.