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# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/XCVII Mrs. Bull

XCVII
To Mrs. Ole Bull
63 ST. GEORGE'S ROAD
18th July '96
DEAR MRS. BULL,
I received your last note duly — and you already know my gratitude and love for you and that I perfectly agree with most of your ideas and work.
I did not understand, however, one point. You speak of Sturdy and myself being members. Members of what? I, as you well know, can not become a member of any society.
I am very glad to learn that you have been favourably impressed by Saradananda. There is one big mistake you are labouring under. What do you mean of [my] writing to my workers more confidentially and not to you? I seldom write to anyone — I have no time to write. I have no workers. Everyone is independent to work as one likes. I do not bother my head about these little things at all. I can give ideas — that is all; let people work them out any way they like, and Godspeed to all.
"He who works unattached to persons and giving up the fruits of work is a genuine worker" — Gitâ.
Yours Ever with love and gratitude,
VIVEKANANDA
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/XCIV Mrs. Bull—

XCIV
To Mrs. Ole Bull
63 ST. GEORGE'S ROAD, LONDON, S.W.
6th July 1896
DEAR MRS. BULL —
I have sent to Mr. Leggett by last mail the power of attorney, and, as you desired, this is to notify you of the fact and absolve you from the responsibilities of the power of attorney which I gave you in America last year.
Yours affectionately,
VIVEKANANDA
Saradananda and Goodwin have arrived, I am sure, by this time. I have a nice letter from Dr. Jain [Dr. Lewis G. Janes]. I am going to Switzerland for a vacation in a few days. I mean to stay there a month or more. I will return to London in the next fall. I do not know when I go back to India.
Things are growing nicely here.
With love to all,
Yours affectionately,
VIVEKANANDA
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/XCVIII Blessed and Beloved

XCVIII
To Sister Christine
[POSTMARKED: SAAS-FEE]
SWITZERLAND
5th August 1896
BLESSED AND BELOVED,
Surrounded on all sides by eternal snow peaks, sitting on the grass in a beautiful wood, my thoughts go to those I love — so I write.
I am in Switzerland — constantly on the move — getting a much needed rest. It is a miniature Himalayas, and has the same effect of raising the mind up to the Self and driving away all earthly feelings and ties. I am intensely enjoying it. I feel so, so uplifted. I cannot write, but I wish you will have the same for ever — when your feet do not want, as it were, to touch the material earth — when the soul finds itself floating, as it were, in an ocean of spirituality.
Prof. Max Müller has written in the Nineteenth Century an article on my Master. Read it if you can — August number.
I hope you are enjoying this beautiful summer and are perfectly rested after hard work.
My love to all. Blessings to all.
Yours ever with love and blessings,
VIVEKANANDA
P.S. A few Alpine flowers growing almost in the midst of eternal snow I send you, praying that you may attain spiritual hardihood amidst all snows and ice of this life.
V.
# The Burial in the Desert

* The Burial in the Desert, in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Volume 29, 1831.
* The Burial in the Desert, in Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans, 1836.
# The Burial (Kipling)

This poem was published in The New York Times, and the Times of London as well as Volume 19, page 130 of McClure's Magazine. It was a tribute to Kipling's friend Cecil Rhodes read at the burial of the British diamond magnate and politician, in the Matopos, Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) on April 10, 1902.
* Kipling's Tribute to Cecil Rhodes. The New York Times. 1902
* The Burial. The Five Nations. 1903.
# The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna

This poem commemorates the funeral of Sir John Moore following the Battle of Corunna in 1809.
"Charles Wolfe is best remembered for his poem, 'The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna', written in 1816 and much collected in 19th and 20th century anthologies. The poem first appeared anonymously in the Newry Telegraph of 19 April 1817, and was re-printed in many other periodicals. But it was forgotten until after his death when Lord Byron drew the attention of the public to it. Wolfe's only volume of verse, Poetical Remains, appeared in 1825 with 'The Burial of Sir John Moore' and fourteen other verses of an equally high standard." Warning: template has been deprecated.
* "The Death of Sir John Moore" in The Elocutionist (1815-1830)
* "The Death of Sir John Moore" in The Modern Reciter (1829)
* "The Death of Sir John Moore" in The Elocutionist (1840s)
* "The burial of Sir John Moore" in The Reciter (1840s)
* "The Burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna" in Poems That Every Child Should Know (1904)
# The Burden of Itys

* "The Burden of Itys" in The Writings of Oscar Wilde (1907)
* "The Burden of Itys" in The Poems of Oscar Wilde (1909)
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Poet

He sang of life, serenely sweet,  With, now and then, a deeper note.  From some high peak, nigh yet remote, He voiced the world's absorbing beat.
He sang of love when earth was young,  And Love, itself, was in his lays.  But, ah, the world, it turned to praise A jingle in a broken tongue.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Quilting

THE QUILTING
Dolly sits a-quilting by her mother, stich by stitch, Gracious, how my pulses throb, how my fingers itch, While I note her dainty waist and her slender hand, As she matches this and that, she stitches strand by strand. And I long to tell her Life's a quilt and I'm a patch; Love will do the stitching if she'll only be my match.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Real Question

THE REAL QUESTION
Folks is talkin' 'bout de money, 'bout de silvah an' de gold; All de time de season 's changin' an' de days is gittin' cold. An' dey 's wond'rin' 'bout de metals, whethah we'll have one er two. While de price o' coal is risin' an' dey 's two months' rent dat 's due.
Some folks says dat gold 's de only money dat is wuff de name, Den de othahs rise an' tell 'em dat dey ought to be ashame, An' dat silvah is de only thing to save us f'om de powah Of de gold-bug ragin' 'roun' an' seekin' who he may devowah.
Well, you folks kin keep on shoutin' wif yo' gold er silvah cry, But I tell you people hams is sceerce an' fowls is roostin' high. An' hit ain't de so't o' money dat is pesterin' my min', But de question I want answehed 's how to get at any kin'!
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Rising of the Storm

THE RISING OF THE STORM
The lake's dark breast  Is all unrest, It heaves with a sob and a sigh.  Like a tremulous bird,  From its slumber stirred, The moon is a-tilt in the sky.
 From the silent deep  The waters sweep, But faint on the cold white stones,  And the wavelets fly  With a plaintive cry O'er the old earth's bare, bleak bones.
 And the spray upsprings  On its ghost-white wings, And tosses a kiss at the stars;  While a water-sprite,  In sea-pearls dight, Hums a sea-hymn's solemn bars.
 Far out in the night,  On the wavering sight I see a dark hull loom;  And its light on high,  Like a Cyclops' eye, Shines out through the mist and gloom.
 Now the winds well up  From the earth's deep cup, And fall on the sea and shore,  And against the pier  The waters rear And break with a sullen roar.
 Up comes the gale,  And the mist-wrought veil Gives way to the lightning's glare,  And the cloud-drifts fall,  A sombre pall, O'er water, earth, and air.
 The storm-king flies,  His whip he plies, And bellows down the wind.  The lightning rash  With blinding flash Comes pricking on behind.
 Rise, waters, rise,  And taunt the skies With your swift-flitting form.  Sweep, wild winds, sweep,  And tear the deep To atoms in the storm.
 And the waters leapt,  And the wild winds swept, And blew out the moon in the sky,  And I laughed with glee,  It was joy to me As the storm went raging by!
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Place Where The Rainbow Ends

THE PLACE WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS
There's a fabulous story Full of splendor and glory,  That Arabian legends transcends; Of the wealth without measure, The coffers of treasure,  At the place where the rainbow ends.
Oh, many have sought it, And all would have bought it,  With the blood we so recklessly spend; But none has uncovered, The gold, nor discovered  The spot at the rainbow's end.
They have sought it in battle, And e'en where the rattle  Of dice with man's blasphemy blends; But howe'er persuasive, It still proves evasive,  This place where the rainbow ends.
I own for my pleasure, I yearn not for treasure,  Though gold has a power it lends; And I have a notion, To find without motion,  The place where the rainbow ends.
The pot may hold pottage, The place be a cottage,  That a humble contentment defends, Only joy fills its coffer, But spite of the scoffer,  There's the place where the rainbow ends.
Where care shall be quiet, And love shall run riot,  And I shall find wealth in my friends; Then truce to the story, Of riches and glory;  There's the place where the rainbow ends.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Plantation Child's Lullaby

THE PLANTATION CHILD'S LULLABY
Wintah time hit comin'  Stealin' thoo de night; Wake up in the mo'nin'  Evah t'ing is white; Cabin lookin' lonesome  Stannin' in de snow, Meks you kin' o' nervous,  Wen de win' hit blow.
Trompin' back from feedin',  Col' an' wet an' blue, Homespun jacket ragged,  Win' a-blowin' thoo. Cabin lookin' cheerful,  Unnerneaf de do', Yet you kin' o' keerful  Wen de win' hit blow.
Hickory log a-blazin'  Light a-lookin' red, Faith o' eyes o' peepin'  'Rom a trun'le bed, Little feet a-patterin'  Cleak across de flo'; Bettah had be keerful  Wen de win' hit blow.
Suppah done an' ovah,  Evah t'ing is still; Listen to de snowman  Slippin' down de hill. Ashes on de fiah,  Keep it wa'm but low. What's de use o' keerin'  Ef de win' do blow?
Smoke house full o' bacon,  Brown an' sweet an' good; Taters in de cellah,  'Possum roam de wood; Little baby snoozin'  Des ez ef he know. What's de use o' keerin'  Ef de win' do blow?
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Poet and His Song

THE POET AND HIS SONG
A song is but a little thing, And yet what joy it is to sing! In hours of toil it gives me zest, And when at eve I long for rest; When cows come home along the bars, And in the fold I hear the bell, As Night, the shepherd, herds his stars, I sing my song, and all is well.
There are no ears to hear my lays, No lips to lift a word of praise; But still, with faith unfaltering, I live and laugh and love and sing. What matters yon unheeding throng? They cannot feel my spirit's spell, Since life is sweet and love is long, I sing my song, and all is well.
My days are never days of ease; I till my ground and prune my trees. ​ When ripened gold is all the plain, I put my sickle to the grain. I labor hard, and toil and sweat, While others dream within the dell; But even while my brow is wet, I sing my song, and all is well.
Sometimes the sun, unkindly hot, My garden makes a desert spot; Sometimes a blight upon the tree Takes all my fruit away from me; And then with throes of bitter pain Rebellious passions rise and swell; But—life is more than fruit or grain,
    And so I sing, and all is well.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Pool

THE POOL
By the pool that I see in my dreams, dear love,  I have sat with you time and again; And listened beneath the dank leaves, dear love,  To the sibilant sound of the rain.
And the pool, it is silvery bright, dear love,  And as pure as the heart of a maid, As sparkling and dimpling, it darkles and shines  In the depths of the heart of the glade.
But, oh, I 've a wish in my soul, dear love,  (The wish of a dreamer, it seems,) That I might wash free of my sins, dear love,  In the pool that I see in my dreams.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Poet And The Baby

THE POET AND THE BABY
How's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell,— How's he going to weave the dim, poetic spell,—  When a-toddling on the floor  Is the muse he must adore, And this muse he loves, not wisely, but too well?
Now, to write a sonnet, every one allows, One must always be as quiet as a mouse;  But to write one seems to me  Quite superfluous to be, When you 've got a little sonnet in the house.
Just a dainty little poem, true and fine, That is full of love and life in every line,  Earnest, delicate, and sweet,  Altogether so complete That I wonder what's the use of writing mine.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Right to Die

I HAVE no fancy for that ancient cant That makes us masters of our destinies, And not our lives, to hold or give them up As will directs; I cannot, will not think That men, the subtle worms, who plot and plan And scheme and calculate with such shrewd wit, Are such great blund'ring fools as not to know When they have lived enough.  Men court not death When there are sweets still left in life to taste. Nor will a brave man choose to live when he, Full deeply drunk of life, has reached the dregs, And knows that now but bitterness remains. He is the coward who, outfaced in this, Fears the false goblins of another life. I honor him who being much harassed Drinks of sweet courage until drunk of it,-- Then seizing Death, reluctant, by the hand, Leaps with him, fearless, to eternal peace!
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/CCIX Chrisitne

CCIX
To Sister Christine
THE MATH, P.O. BELUR, HOWRAH,
25th November 1901.
DEAR CHRISTINE,
It seems your bottle of nerve tonic did not do you much good, your assurances to the contrary. It must have been a curious error. I must have been down with fever or asthma or something else at that time. Still a thousand, thousand pardons. This was my first, and it will be my last, offence. Your letter that went to Miss [Josephine] MacLeod has not come back yet. Perhaps Miss MacLeod is bringing the letter with her, as she is coming over to India from Japan herself, accompanied by her Japanese converts (male, of course, as she is a lady missionary).
Well, well, I so wish things would so arrange themselves that I could see you once more. Mother knows. By the by, my right eye is failing me badly. I see very little with that one. It will be hard for me for some time either to read or write; and as it is getting worse every day, my people are urging me to go to Calcutta and consult a doctor. I will go soon, as soon as I recover from a bad cold I have on.
I am so glad you were so taken by Abhedananda; only I thought one Hindu was good for a lifetime.
Poor Miss Joe [Miss Josephine MacLeod] — so she remains ignorant as to the real cause of my not going over to Japan! You need not be the least anxious — there is no harm done; and if there were, Joe and especially Mrs. [Ole] Bull make it their life's duty to befriend those I love.
I will try your tonic when it arrives; and the gift, I pray, will even be followed by the giver, for surely a [words excised] . . . is more stimulating and healing than dead drugs.
With all love,
VIVEKANANDA.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/CCIV Christine

CCIV
To Sister Christine
THE MATH, BELUR,
DIST. HOWRAH, BENGAL,
25th September 1901.
DEAR CHRISTINE,
I could not write you last mail, excusez [excuse]. But I have been expecting one from you for a long time. Hope one will come this mail.
I am just thinking of going over to Japan, as Miss [Josephine] MacLeod is so insistent. Perhaps something will be done; who knows?
From Japan, of course, a peep into America seems inevitable.
Not much news of Mrs. [Ole] Bull or Margot [Sister Nivedita]. Margot is rested, well, and strong. She will come to India some day, perhaps. I am soon expecting Mrs. [Charlotte] Sevier though. Her work is needing her. Her beautiful home in the Himalayan forests is a temptation, especially now when a huge tiger is roaming in her compound and killed a horse, a buffalo, and her pair of mastiffs in broad daylight; a number of bears [are] playing havoc with her vegetable garden; and lots of porcupines [are] doing mischief everywhere!!! She went out of the way to buy land in a forest — she and her husband liked it so much.
There is not much to write this week. Words only tire one, except one which is inexhaustible, infinite.
So, goodbye till next week.
Ever with love and blessings,
VIVEKANANDA.
PS — Just now comes a telegram from Miss MacLeod and a letter also. She is so insistent that I am thinking of going over to Japan. In that case, we cross over to America this winter, and thence to England.
Yours,
V.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/CCII Christine

CCII
To Sister Christine
THE M
ATH, BELUR,
DIST. HOWRAH, BENGAL,
27th August 1901.
DEAR CHRISTINE,
I am expecting a long, long letter from you; and, like all expectations of mine, [it] will not be realized, I fear.
Well, I need not bother you with the usual string of questions: How are you? What are you doing all this summer? etc. I am sure the Mother will [do] so much as to keep you in good health at least.
Now, Christina, for many reasons this letter happens to be short, very. It is written with the special purpose that as soon as you get this, send me your latest photograph.
Did you write to Miss [Sarah Ellen] Waldo about the publication of the books? I get no news and, what is more important, no money (that is between you and me) from the sale.
Did you have any news of Margot [Sister Nivedita], of Mrs. [Ole] Bull etc.? And are you happy? I sometimes feel I am, other times it is clouded. Well, it is all the body, after all — material. Goodbye.
Yours with love and blessings,
VIVEKANANDA.
PS — Do send the photo as soon as possible.
V.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/CCI Christine

CCI
To Sister Christine
THE MATH, BELUR,
DIST. HOWRAH, BENGAL,
6th August 1901.
Letters are sometimes, dear Christina, like mercy — good to the one that sends and the other that receives.
I am so happy that you are calm and resigned as ever. You are ever that. "Mother knows", indeed; only I know that "Mother" not only knows, but does — and is going to do something very fine for me in the near future. What do you think will be very good for me on earth? Silver? Gold? Pooh! I have got something infinitely better; but a little gold will not be amiss to keep my jewel in proper surroundings, and it is coming, don't you think so?
I am a man who frets much, but waits all the same; and the apple comes to my mouth by itself. So, it is coming, coming, coming.
Now, how are you? Growing ever thinner, thinner, thinner, eh? Do have a very good appetite and good sleep in anticipation of the coming good time — to be in trim for welcoming its advent.
How did the heat feel this year? We read all sorts of horrible stories about American heat waves. You have beaten the world's records, even in heat — that's Yankee push, surely.
Well, you are right as about taste: I renounce the yellow of gold and the white of silver, but stick to amber always — that is to my taste.
Amber and corals I always hated; but of late I am awakening to their beauty. One learns as he lives, is it not?
I am going to Darjeeling tomorrow for a few days and will write to you from there. Now gute Nacht [good night] and au revoir [good-bye] for the present.
Ever yours truly,
VIVEKANANDA.
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 3/December issue of the "Asia"

DECEMBER ISSUE OF THE “ASIA”.
The most prominent feature of the December issue of the “Asia”, the Mid-European number of this excellent magazine, are stories and pictures of the Czechoslovaks. Mr. Pergler contributes an article on the Future Czechoslovak State, illustrated by drawings of members of the New York Czechoslovak Arts Club, while Miss Louise Llewellyn, well known to Bohemian audiences, as a concert singer, tells of Czech and Slovak folk songs. Her story is also beautifully illustrated with sketches by Aleš, Kremlička and Úprka. The issue contains also a picture of Masaryk at the Philadelphia convention, and the coat of arms of the Czechoslovak republic.
The most striking feature of this issue are etchings by a Czech artist of New York, Mr. J. C. Vondrouš; they present eight impressions of Prague of great artistic merit. Our readers are advised lo send 25 cents to the Asia Publishing Company, 627 Lexington Ave., New York, and get a copy of this remarkable number.
This work was published before January 1, 1929 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 95 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse