In the land of the evening mirage, In the land of the evening mirage, Where the stars and the spirits of dead men have rest In the land of the evening mirage. The big man in the moonlight is peeping for us, In the land of the evening mirage; And the grandmother spirits are weeping for us Where the grandmother spirits are weeping for us Speed away, speed away to the island so blest, Where the spirits of dead men forever have rest, In the land of the evening mirage. In the land of the evening mirage, In the land of the evening mirage, Where the spirits of dead men forever have rest, THE OTHER WORLD HARRIET BEECHER STOWE It lies around us like a cloud,- Its gentle breezes fan our cheeks Sweet hearts around us throb and beat, And palpitates the veil between With breathings almost heard. The silence-awful, sweet, and calm,- So thin, so soft, so sweet they glide, And, in the hush of rest they bring, How lovely and how sweet a pass To close the eye and close the ear, Scarce knowing if we wake or sleep, To feel all evil sink away, All sorrow and all care. Sweet souls around us! Watch us still, Into our thoughts, into our prayers, Let death between us be as naught, Your joy be the reality, Our suffering life the dream. DAREST THOU NOW, O SOUL? WALT WHITMAN Darest thou now, O Soul, Walk out with me toward the unknown region, Where neither ground is for the feet, nor any path to follow? No map there, nor guide Nor voice sounding, nor touch of any human hand, Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land. I know it not, O Soul! Nor dost thou, all is a blank before us, All waits undreamed of in that region, that inaccessible land. Till when the tie is loosened, All but the ties eternal, Time and Space, Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds bounding us. Then we burst forth, we float, In Time and Space, O Soul! prepared for them, Equal, equipped at last (O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfill, O Soul! THE IMPRISONED SOUL WALT WHITMAN At the last, tenderly From the walls of the powerful fortressed house, From the clasp of the knitted locks-from the keep of the well closed doors, Let me be wafted. Let me glide noiselessly forth; With the key of softness unlock the locks-with a whisper Tenderly, be not impatient! Strong is your hold, Oh, mortal flesh! Strong is your hold, O Love! 2. We Are the Builders of the City HAIL! THE GLORIOUS GOLDEN CITY FELIX ADLER Hail the glorious Golden City, We are builders of that city; And the work that we have builded, Will not perish with our years: HOME AT LAST GILBERT K. CHESTERTON To an open house in the evening, Home shall men come, To an older place than Eden, And a taller town than Rome. To the end of the way of the wandering star, BUGLE SONG OF PEACE THOMAS CURTIS CLARK Blow, bugle, blow, The day has dawned at last, Blow, blow, blow, The fearful night is past, The prophets realize their dreams, Lo! in the east the glory gleams. Blow, bugle, blow! The day has dawned at last. Blow, bugle, blow! The soul of man is free. The rod and sword of king and lord Shall no more honored be; For God alone shall govern men, And love shall come to earth again. Blow, bugle, blow! The soul of man is free. Blow, bugle, blow! Though rivers run with blood, All greed and strife, and lust for life, |