"None escape the common doom; All are equal in the tomb. "Read upon this tomb: Here lies-' "Thus among the tombs I tread, "In this place that truth I found, Of the gospel of the poor, Lo! the cricket hushed his music At the dull, unwonted sound Of the ripened mellow apple Falling softly to the ground. All the days of rain or sunshine Here had made their work complete Since the blossom dropped in springtime Till the fruit fell at my feet, Loosened by the hand of Nature With a touch that made no sound, From the Father's hand of bounty Falling softly to the ground. Men have watched or men have slumbered, Counted days or laughed or wept, But the upward flow of juices. God's great calendar have kept, And the great machine of Nature Onward moves without a sound, Till we, startled, mark its fruitage Falling softly to the ground. Then my heart was dark and heavy As I saw an iron hand Moving in a sweep resistless Through the air and sea and land, Ripening its plans gigantic, Holding all things helpless, bound, Till the full-grown curse or blessing Falls as fruitage to the ground. But the silver autumn splendor In the harvest spread around Of a God of patience ever Showering blessings o'er the ground. A. T. WORDEN. Find them with work, and they murmur For he who by patent of wealth or birth not; Work from bed to bed, They give the day for the daily bread A ready price for the life Of self and child and wife. It is well, no doubt; it is good— At least, it is understood That the sentence did not fall An equal brand upon all. But that some should share it in work, And some in pleasure Should fill the measure Of the curse that none may shirk. Nor the power that makes him absolute Grinds men to earth, He who darkens and dwarf and blinds Immortal minds, Keeps men drawers of water, hewers of wood, Till each one feeds Mere animal needs, With never a sense of higher good He on his individual soul Must take the whole, Must stand for each wasted soul's ideal For its aspirations by him debased, For all Lost to the ignorant thrall That might to life a higher impulse give Or to God's glory live. This is the cost Of the rank and the gold and the land Held in a single hand, |