Our Profession and Other Poems — Text and Context

When thought is secure, the reason clear, And the language to tell is pure, Abridgement comes like a friend sincere, For it cannot the mind obscure. The wasted time on a form-clad task Steals gems from youth's precious years, Leaves a wreck on life's shore, we cannot mask With our sorrows and sighs and tears.

If what we have learned has given no power To acquire what yet we must learn, If all our past struggles leave not a dower To which we may joyously turn And feel that a strength within us is given Through efforts already bestowed, In vain have we lived, in vain have we striven, Each task is the same weary load.

If task of to-day shall not lighten th' one May come upon us to-morrow, It is but a proof our work was ill done, And bodes to us grief and sorrow. Ev'ry effort of mind applied aright Augments the mental perception, For God aids the brave, and giveth a light To shine away imperfection.

There's a magic power in a task well done, There's a charm in solid reason, There's a mighty force in a victory won, Which an alert mind will seize on, And with giant strength that is thus acquired March on till the fields of science And the zones of thought wherein man aspired Shall be won by self-reliance.

Who has not seen the inert mind, Bowed down and sore oppressed, Start into life, and vigor find At touch of interest Some sympathetic soul has shown, By look in kindness given, Or word whose accent, cadence, tone, Gave joy akin to heaven?

No emanation from the heart Has greater power to win, Than that which lays aside all art And quietly steps in To soothe through sympathy, the cares And sorrows, one by one, Of timorous soul who scarcely dares Go forward all alone,

But needs some word of magic power To give him life and zest, Some animating heart-given dower Whose wealth is interest. Few, few there are who know the force That dormant lies in many a brain, Who trace inertia to its source Or see how mind o'er mind may reign.

Who stores the mind with richest truth Gathered from sages of all lands, May toil through days of sunny youth, And on till Death gives his commands, But fails to call to him the aid Of Reason, Judgment, and Good Sense, Will find himself at last dismayed At smallness of his consequence.

The choicest gems must polish bear, And metals must be purged from earth, Before a lustre they can wear That tells of their intrinsic worth. The brain requires friction of thought, Obtained through contact with the world, With which may skillfully be wrought The mental gems research unfurled.

Who builds alone on Memory Will find he lacks a needed force To fire and set the spirit free, And move him onward in the course That tends to lead him by a way Whose goal is sure, complete success, But wanting such, can but display Chaotic mass of nothingness.

Let Memory and Reason wed, Their product then may fully know The food on which great minds are fed, The founts from which great actions flow; Each holds its share of honored meed, But each requires the other's aid To stimulate the urgent need By which great genius is displayed.

Many a brave resolution Is formed on New Year's Day To annihilate some vices That on our morals prey; But before the year is ended They go so far astray We find our lives are pursuing The old, accustomed way.

THE DESIRABLE UNDEFINED.

I have often thought there's a power Unknown to science or art, That opens and closes the portals That lead to the human heart.

I have learned there's a secret something That remains yet undefined, That touches the springs and pulleys That open the human mind.

I have watched the glow of faces, As a light from this occult source Has touched some inert nature With an energizing force.

The effect was so magnetic, It seemed like creative skill From the hand of the Great Master, To give passive being _will_.

Sometimes its power seemed but presence, Sometimes, a soft, mild tone, Sometimes, a look of decision, Ofttimes, from a source unknown.

There's a something wrapped in th' nature Of those most adapted to teach That charms and holds the attention Of those whom its powers reach.

There's a sound from some vibration Within the human voice That arouses the latent spirit And makes the soul rejoice.

Its tone has a magic power Whereby the heart is impressed With the weight of its noble mission And unselfish interest.

There's a mystic charm most winsome In th' glance of a speaking eye Whose light shines in dark recesses And explores them in passing by.

It illumines the page of the student As his soul warms by its fire, And stirs him to greater action, And lifts aspirations higher.

Every word and look and action Has weight on trustful youth, That needs no sage to interpret Or explain its vital truth.

They are fully comprehended Through the instinct, every one, And need no labored searching In a massive lexicon.

Some call this power attraction, Some term it affinity, But all recognize its existence And wonderful potency.

There's also a power of repulsion That breathes with abated breath, Whose presence is best betokened By ominous signs of death.

No word has an inspiration, No look has a sign of cheer, Each act reveals that a burden Must be borne in sorrow and fear.

The wrecks that are made by its presence Have filled almshouses and jails With the deepest of lamentations, The saddest of human wails.

A selfish, terrible monster That drives away honor and truth Is the cold-blooded fiend Repulsion, The destroyer of tender youth.

The sea in its frenzy and fury, When lashed by the wintry gales Casts on the rocks its vessels Bereft of their spars and sails;

The path of the fierce tornado, Overstrewn with wild debris Of fallen habitations And uprooted forest tree;

The wreck of a world of matter That transforms revolving spheres, Which have gathered all their greatness Through the lapse of a million years;

The snow-clad mountain terror-- The fearful avalanche-- Whose thunders are heard in valleys Where imploring faces blanch;

The mouth of a raging Etna With its stifling breath of fire, Wherein the pride of a city In a moment may expire;

The trembling of the mountains When an earthquake passes by, And the terror of the people Struck dumb in their agony;

The rage of a foaming torrent, After the bursting cloud Has poured its liquid fury In destruction wild and loud;

Are but the potent protests Of Nature's elements Against some ill arrangement That brings them discontents.

But these in separate actions, Or in forces all combined, Leave not so sad a ruin As the wreck of one human mind.

The voice, the eye, and the manner Are all unlocked by a key That has for its great attraction A confiding sympathy.

The knowledge of books is essential To those who youth would guide, But the grace of earnest endeavor Excels all else beside.

Truth in its plainness is beauty, Science itself is a charm, But the frown of a tyrant tutor Puts both in constant alarm.

To receive a healthful impression, Mind must be free from fear, Will must be held by attraction, Soul, by a soul sincere.

Some persons in mind are but mirrors Reflecting what others have thought, That make no original errors, They are only able to quote. You may ask their opinion on matters That pertain to affairs of the day, Their minds are but shreds and tatters Of what all their neighbors say.

We respect the man who is careful With others his mind to compare, But who of himself is not fearful His honest opinion to share With men, when some public measure Upon the State has been thrown,-- Who proves his mind a rich treasure He uses and calls his own.

Many a grand ambition Had birth and died in a day, From lack of vigorous nursing To keep it from decay.

Many a hope has faded And sunk in deepest despair, Through lack of careful pruning That fruitage it might bear.

Many a mind is ruined And becomes chaotic mass, Through want of systematic Training in the class.

Many a song of sweetness Has lost its harmony, Because at its beginning It had not the proper key.

Many a field most fertile Bears vile and noxious weeds, Through failure of the tiller To sow some worthy seeds.

Many a flower of beauty And sweetness blooms unseen, And dies in its seclusion On a bed of mossy green.

Better to have no talent, No excellence to give, Than permit vice to destroy The talent we may have.

No dam can restrain the water When leaks receive no care, When the tempest in wild fury Doth chafe and gnaw and tear, And no hand is raised to succor, No effort to repair, Till the torrent bursts in fury And fills us with despair. 'Tis too late then for repining, Too late, for work or prayer.

A duty done is victory won, E'en though in the doing, Efforts may fail to bring avail In lines we are pursuing.

Nothing is lost whate'er the cost, When efforts made are noble, Beyond the sky acts never die, And honor's crown is double.

Right cannot fail, but must prevail, If noble be the motive; Heaven is nigher if we aspire With hearts sincere and votive.

Much strength we gain when we maintain A truth for truth's sake solely; A mighty power guides effort's hour And stamps its cause as holy.

If honest heart act well its part, And ask the aid of heaven Its feeblest word will be so heard That succor will be given.

It matters not how low our lot We rise by honest trial; No effort made for needed aid E'er met complete denial.

The soul expands when it demands A right for self and others, And darkest night has ray of light For honest helpful brothers.

A noble soul spurns the control Would bind in servile fetters; No chains can bind God-given mind Inspired by love and letters.

An earnest will can ne'er be still Though oft its hopes be baffled, It will succeed though victims bleed And die upon the scaffold.

Loud shout and sing, "Crown Effort King," And let the watchword be This earnest prayer heard everywhere, "God and Humanity."

A duty done is victory won, For strength comes by the doing; There's no retreat, there's no defeat, If right we are pursuing.

Some eyes are trained to scan large field Till instantaneous glance may yield A knowledge full and plenty; While others keep a narrow ken And view the ways of active men With satisfaction scanty.

The optic nerve has power so keen, That ev'ry object by it seen Is stamped upon the brain; But they of sluggish mental mold No vivid photograph will hold, And scarce a scene retain.

The tympanum with perfect drum Hears not the sound when armies come With clarion notes and song, Unless its stimulated nerve Has fully learned to humbly serve In stations which belong

To those which God designed should live For special duties, He might give To move mankind along Upon the road toward perfect man, That He might thus reveal His plan, And happiness prolong.

The power that lies in perfect speech Dwells with the few who only reach That art through toil and care; A faulty tongue perverts the ear, Destroys the sense, augments the fear, And feeds on empty air.

A nation's destinies have hung Upon the influence of a tongue Whose magic eloquence Has swayed the thoughts of men, whose word Was mightier than the glittering sword Of armies most immense.

The manual touch when guided by The magic power of sympathy That animates the soul, May lead to fields of cultured art And cast an influence on the heart May through all ages roll.

The canvass and the stone may speak To more than Roman and to Greek Though in a foreign land; They show the might of cultured skill Directed by an iron will That guides a master's hand.

The perfumed fields of blooming May, The evening scent of new-mown hay Touch nerve olfactory, And carry to the thoughtful brain Loved memories of a long-past train That once was full of glee.

Though flowers to-day are choice and rare, In colors they may well compare With richest hues we meet; They lack the charm that gave them power Since past is youth's entrancing hour Their fragrance seems less sweet.

Five roads lead to the human brain And through these roads all must obtain The commerce of all lore; No thought can enter mental port Of any kind or any sort, Of modern days or yore,

Except such as a tariff pays To pass these honored, great highways Which lead to eminence, And follow closely every nerve Which God designed should truly serve Each mind of consequence.

Perhaps that star in yonder sky, May be my dwelling place on high, When life on earth is done; At eventide I love to gaze Upon its soft reflected rays, When silent and alone.

Its brightness charms and draws my soul, By some mysterious, strong control I cannot well explain, Unless it be within it dwell The friends of earth I loved so well, Who could not here remain.

Soul speaks to soul, eye speaks to eye, And mind by mind is read; The heart bounds in sweet ecstasy Whene'er a light is shed, That shines to illume a cherished thought That seemed to dwell alone, But on through years has nobly sought To solve some truth unknown.

The living truth that seemeth dead, Needs but a kindred touch To resurrect thought's vital thread, And give it influence, such As breaks the bands of fettered mind, And sunders thraldom's chains, Spreads benefactions, pure, refined, Where ignorance now reigns.

Magnetic touch of spark divine, Speak to the inert soul, Let light from out the darkness shine, And truth her page unroll; Speak to the minds that waiting, starve, And give them power to see, That he who patiently will serve Shall win the victory.

[Written for an entertainment given by the Fife and Drum Corps (36 uniformed members) of the Third Ward Grammar School of Long Island City, of which the writer is Principal.]

There are fields of martial glory Where the slain are ne'er bemoaned; There are victories though silent, Where grim monarchs are dethroned; There are scenes of strife and foray Where gigantic forces strive For the mastery and triumph Of the ends for which they live.

There are forces more puissant Than ten million armed men, There are banners that are emblems Of the mighty tongue and pen, That reflect upon their blazon Honest purpose grand and true, Such as never graced the victors Of Sedan and Waterloo.

There are weapons in these contests Keener than the Damask blade, There are metals of such temper As no crucible e'er made; For the dross must be extracted In the furnace of the soul Till no refuse or pollution Shall defile the perfect whole.

Though this army counts its millions, Each must face alone the foe, Each must bring a special weapon, Each must strike himself the blow That shall free him from the shackles Of that despot and his train, Who with ignorance and vices Would destroy the heart and brain.

Our true sword is Education And grim Ignorance our foe; We are battling with our passions, And our spirits are aglow With a full determination To accept the proven truth That the days of precious seed-time, Are the sunny days of youth.

Day by day the contest rages And each task that's daily done, Brings a soothing satisfaction That another victory's won. Thus the strength we gain in action Aids in each succeeding strife, To make the struggles lighter In the battles of our life.

There are avenues and byways Which lead into the heart, Whose intricate environments Require the highest art To tell what inspiration Shall touch a dormant mind, And fire it with a living zeal For a station more refined.

It is only voice of music That speaks universal tongue; It matters not in what accent A sweet melody is sung, It will find responsive feelings Which will aptly understand Though it be of unknown measure And sung in a foreign land.

We come with our martial music, With our noisy fife and drum To inspire the weak and weary, To open the mouths of the dumb, To train our every emotion For a better sphere in life, To enjoy for the passing moment The sound of the drum and fife.

We hope our notes may be peaceful And free from carnage of war; We would bind up the broken hearted And cover the wound and scar, But should foe our country menace And refuse to be just and calm, We would sound aloud the tocsin And march to defend Uncle Sam.

To plant an intellectual seed And guard its growth from noxious weed, That it may fruitage bear, Is solace more, a thousand fold, Than hoarding bonds and stocks and gold, Or sporting jewels rare.

A silent force marks out the course Of every man and woman, No matter what may be the lot Of creatures that are human,

The end attained is ever gained By means so strange and hidden, We call it luck, instead of pluck, Or fate by fairies bidden.

The human eye cannot descry All workings of the brain; At silent night, it gains a might Which bears a mental train

Whose lucid glow may thrones o'erthrow, Or bid new nations rise, May prove some plan whereby proud man May ransack earth and skies.

Think not such power a fairy's dower, Or influence from some star, It did not spring from anything Beyond what mortals are.

To man is given the keys of heaven If they be rightly used; No being born but must be shorn If blessings are abused.

Keep well the trust! Guard it we must, From in and outward foes, Strength will be gained, might be attained By efforts to oppose

The secret vice that doth entice To ruin and despair; But he who will hath power to kill Such vice within its lair.

Let habits grand the life command And Eden is regained; No future bliss need surpass this If habits are unstained.

Let smiling face your presence grace And earth will smile on you, Let from the tongue a song be sung, Its echo will be true,

And sing again the same refrain Upon the selfsame key, Till airs elate, reverberate, Heaven's sweetest minstrelsy.

If we extend a hand to friend Who needs a brother's care, Though it may hold no purse of gold The act he will revere.

Scarce do we know whence comes the glow That duty done e'er gives, Its altar-fire cannot expire-- Here and hereafter lives.

Such habits then, for gods and men, Are but the means whereby They may prepare to gain their share To mansions in the sky.

Sing then a song, its notes prolong, In praise of Habit's power; Let custom be from evil free And it will blessings shower.

How habit grows no one e'er knows, And yet he is a giant That has a will and subtle skill That never yet was pliant.

'Tis very plain that he has slain More than the sword and spear, With wily art he charms the heart And quells the greatest fear.

His artful eye is wondrous sly And has bewitching glance, Where'er he moves his victim loves To see his powers advance.

He makes no noise 'mong girls and boys Whom he would call his own, His spell is cast, he holds them fast Till they are overthrown.

When this is done the field is won, And they are all his own, He heeds no cry, no choking sigh, No plea, no prayer, no groan.

If you would be forever free From tyrant so severe, Watch every thought before you're caught, For he is hovering near.

Your every word guard with the sword Of truth, which never fails, Its honor's sung in every tongue, Its power e'er prevails.

Act well your part, and keep your heart Free from the tares he sows, For at the end like traitor friend He leaves you with your woes.

Thus Habit mars with wounds and scars The favored of our race, Transforms the mind that God designed Should be the dwelling place

Of noble thought with heaven fraught Into a sterile plain, Whose atmosphere is dank and drear-- A wild chaotic brain.