THOUGH full of care"My Dream" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Smart Set (November 1902), Mine and Thine (1904) and Poems (1916) Volume II.
I tread the round
Of toil in which man's eager life is bound,
I faint not 'neath the load I bear;
For grievous though the burden sometimes be,
I dream of thee!
And when, at night,
I lie enwound
In silence that is sweeter than all sound,
The darkness, kindlier than light,
Shuts out the busy world awhile, and free,
I dream of thee!
Like to a breath
Of fragrance blown
From some shy blossom, hidden and alone,
Redeeming frost and wintry death,
So ever comes, like scent of bloom to me,
My dream of thee!
Saturday, November 25, 2017
Friday, November 24, 2017
"RESPECT the Future, which belongs to me!""Frederick" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The American (24 November 1888).
So speak thy yearning and imperious will,
Making the Present distant faiths fulfil,
And raised from falling kingdoms—Germany.
No idle name, no doubtful dream to thee
That Future: actual, its clasp grown chill,
It led thee, and thy soul sublimed it still,—
Heir of a more than earthly dynasty!
O didst thou think, untimely called to rest,
The preparation of a life o'erthrown—
To lose what thou so bravely didst resign?
Forevermore the Fatherland shall own
Her nobler liberties thy dear bequest:
The future thy great spirit saw—was thine!
Thursday, November 23, 2017
Thou that dost save through pain,
And dost, afflicting, bless,
We offer Thee from prostrate hearts
The Greater Thankfulness!
Lord, Thou hast humbled pride—
Hast shown the world at length
What ruthlessness may dwell with Power,
What bankruptcy with Strength;
And teaching us the scorn
Of trifles that beguile,
Hast given us, dear God, to live
When life is most worth while!
We thank Thee for the dream
That heroes dreamed of yore,
For the desire of good, the will
Earth's freedom to restore;
Spoiled children of the Past,
To-day, more nobly blest,
We thank Thee who hast wakened us,
And asked of us our best!
God of the young and brave
Who nothing know of fear,
Who hold the things that life outlast
Than life itself more dear,
We thank Thee that our souls
Are strong as theirs to give—
All, all we cherish most on earth,
That Liberty may live!
That we, O Good supreme!"Giving Thanks" by Florence Earle Coates, as published in The Unitarian Ledger (27 December 1917. Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger.
Still through our tears can see
On the brow of Death an aureole
NOW gracious plenty rules the board,
And in the purse is gold;
By multitudes in glad accord
Thy giving is extolled.
Ah, suffer me to thank Thee, Lord,
For what thou dost withhold!
I thank Thee that howe'er we climb
There yet is something higher;
That though through all our reach of time
We to the stars aspire,
Still, still beyond us burns sublime
The pure sidereal fire!
I thank Thee for the unexplained,
The hope that lies before,
The victory that is not gained,—
O Father, more and more
I thank Thee for the unattained,
The good we hunger for!
I thank Thee for the voice that sings"Thanksgiving" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Scribner's Magazine (November 1905), Lyrics of Life and Poems (1916) Volume II.
To inner depths of being;
For all the spread and sweep of wings,
From earthly bondage freeing;
For mystery—the dream of things
Beyond our power of seeing!
|Flock of Sheep by|
Ferdinand Chaigneau (1830-1906)
THE houseless wind has gone to rest"Nocturne" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Harper's Monthly Magazine (November 1907), Lyrics of Life (1909) and Poems (1916) Volume II.
In some rude cavern-bed of ocean,
And Neptune smooths his foamy crest,
At Dian's will, with meek devotion;
The shepherd, gathering his sheep,
Has brought them safely to the fold,—
And in my arms my world I hold!
Forespent with hunting on the hill,
My truant, in the dusk returning,
Finds the lone heart, he left at will,
With the one worship burning.
The moonlight pales—the shade grows deep—
The nightingale doth silence break!
Ah, love, until the lark shall wake,
No homeless wanderer art thou!
Here, pillowed safe, thy head is lying.
The nightingale! Ah, listen now!
What passion—death itself defying!
Peace! Stars above us vigil keep,
While breathes for thee each mystic flower
A-bloom to-night in Dreamland bower:
The Coates' owned Ferdinand Chaigneau's Guarding the Flock, and it was gifted to the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (PAFA) by Mrs. Coates in 1923.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
MY son is dead!" the aged woman wailed,"The Love of Life" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Unconquered Air (1912).
"My son, who was the only help I had!
My good, good son is dead—my faithful lad
Who ne'er in duty to his mother failed!"
Eager to comfort her distress, I spoke
Words that have solaced many a soul bereaved
Since kingly David uttered them when, grieved,
First to its final loss his heart awoke.
"Though he, indeed, shall not to you return,
Yet, sorrowing mother, you shall go to him.
Lo, even now, your lamp of life burns dim,
And you may find him soon for whom you yearn!"
Sudden the tears ceased on that face of woe
As the poor creature turned my words to meet,
And sighed, to my amaze:—"Still, life is sweet!"
Then I perceived she had no wish to go.
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
MAIDEN of the laughing eyes,"Song of Life" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Harper's Monthly Magazine (November 1901), Mine and Thine (1904) and Poems (1916) Volume I.
Primrose-kirtled, wingèd, free,
Virgin daughter of the skies—
Joy!—whom gods and mortals prize,
Share thy smiles with me!
Yet—lest I, unheeding, borrow
Pleasure that to-day endears,
And benumbs the heart to-morrow,
Turn not wholly from me, Sorrow!
Let me share thy tears!
Give me of thy fullness, Life!
Pulse and passion, power, breath,
Vision pure, heroic strife,—
Give me of thy fullness, Life!—
Nor deny me death!
Monday, November 20, 2017
REPROACH not Death, nor charge to him, in wonder,"Reproach Not Death" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Lyrics of Life (1909), Scribner's Magazine (November 1911) and Poems (1916) Volume I.
The lives that he doth separate awhile,
But think how many hearts that ache, asunder,
Death, pitying Death, doth join and reconcile!