The mirror., 1915-11-18
::::Flash-Li3hts::::
By Beau Esprita

From The Silence
By d. ~ and B. E.
Was it last night woke to hear your cries?
O, comrade mine what maddening thought has
bent
Thy soul? Thou wouldst invite GoD from the
skies
To question HIM of thy bewiderments
Why let rebelious thoughts hold thee in thra?
1T lis not finished, spite of thy disgrace;
Thinkst thou, the strength to overcome it all
Is gone, and thou art powerless to eface?
Een as the widest river may be spanned,
So, too, the lips that have known sorrow long
May voice the spirit of slave unnamed,
And break the silence with joyful song,
God neer has nobler work than this:
soul-self- -wiled-rise from despar's abyss.
0 thou, who art my comrade at the loom,
know the tragedy thy soul has met;
I've known thy sorrow been betrayed, and yet
l dare to fling joy acrost the gloom
That would oerwhem were to give it room.
Find thou the grace to Danish thy regret.
Cease thou thy tears and do away with fret,-
Else keep thy PRISON cell a tomb.
Comrade of mine, the price is thine to pay,
Grieve not children oer broken toy;
Let this beguide to light the darkened way:
'Pll lock the door on gloom, and house but JOY"
Look up! Have faith and cease thy murmurng.
Comrade of mine, from fabric of despair
Thou yet may shape hope to fill thy need;
Voice thou again that bit of boyhood prayer
Call back more that long ago cast creed.
Find in thy day the fellowship that throbs
Among our kind-'tis here and then, for thee
magic music hushng all the sobs,
The acts that SPEAK oden chivalry.
Out of the warp and woof that seemest gray
Thou still may find thread two of white
Let not tomorrow be thy yesterday
Weave them full we'll and always toward the right
You dared the cast you ventured and you failed;
Still, free thy soul, thy body only jailed.
Let not the night look down upon thy cries,
And cast aside for aye thy cap and bells;
Freedom is real when won through prison cells,
And man must fall to show his power to RISE
What is the need to strive for Heavens prize?
What need of glory which the good book tells?
They no boon at all if all our hes
Were decked with blue and never-clouded skies.
When gloomy thoughts would best thee, oh, resist!
Send out wee hope smaller sea;
Clear vsioned, thou mayst gaze beyond the mist,
See its return, goodly argosy;
And when thou brngest to HIM thy thorn-torn feet
Twill not be said, "A vessel incomplete"
There yet is time 0 Comrade, in thy woe
To loose the CALLING chains that bind thee down,
Take hope weary if the pace be slow.
Toll on heed if lowering faces frown.
The shuttle travels endlessy to shape
The gorgeous pattern that shall clothe thy form
In the new day; why heed the grnning ape
Of Failure chattering at thee midst the storm9
Roll back the clouds that shut thee from the sun
What wouldst thou? Life is in the battle won.
Be this thy guerdon; the night is dark
The day will be more glorious when it dawns
And thou, no longer numbered of the pawns
OF life, on and broader seas embark
Prepare thysef to enter in the ark;
Step boldly where the treacherous abyss yawns-
Its terrors are but for the soul that fawns-
o Comrade fearest thou to tread the mark?
HE too, once knew thy fears, when the cross
HIS pierced body hung in agony,
HIS cry still rings in hearts that count their loss,
my FATHER, why hast THOU forsaken me?"
Yet eer the earth in its swift pace revoIved
H1s problem-thine, o Comrade-hadb been solved
Some asked u.s. last Saturday. if had ordered the
Sure We have have something write poetry about