I, who have lost the stars, the sod,
For chilling pave and cheerless light,
Have made my meeting-place with God
A new and nether Night --
...
Born in Minneapolis, Minnesota, June 30, 1882. Received his education in the public schools of that city and at the University of Minnesota. He was an active journalist, having been associated with the press of Columbus and Cincinnati, Ohio, and of Chicago before coming to New York, where he served on the staff of the "New York American" until his death, March 1, 1915. He was a contributor of stories and verse to well-known magazines, but his volume of poems was brought out posthumously in 1916.)
On A Subway Express
I, who have lost the stars, the sod,
For chilling pave and cheerless light,
Have made my meeting-place with God
A new and nether Night --
Have found a fane where thunder fills
Loud caverns, tremulous; -- and these
Atone me for my reverend hills
And moonlit silences.
A figment in the crowded dark,
Where men sit muted by the roar,
I ride upon the whirring Spark
Beneath the city's floor.
In this dim firmament, the stars
Whirl by in blazing files and tiers;
Kin meteors graze our flying bars,
Amid the spinning spheres.
Speed! speed! until the quivering rails
Flash silver where the head-light gleams,
As when on lakes the Moon impales
The waves upon its beams.
Life throbs about me, yet I stand
Outgazing on majestic Power;
Death rides with me, on either hand,
In my communion hour.
You that 'neath country skies can pray,
Scoff not at me -- the city clod; --
My only respite of the Day
Is this wild ride -- with God.