Peter McArthur Poems

Because that men were deaf, and man to man
I could not speak, but inarticulate
Still felt the burden and the urge of fate,
The strong compulsion of the perfect plan,
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If 'Yea' and 'Nay' were words enough for Him,
Who taught beyond the lessons of all teaching,
With works nor Time nor Envy can bedim,
How vain the burden of our foolish preaching ?
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If every thought shall weigh in the award,
And every dream as if fulfilled shall stand,
Who may complain or deem the justice hard
That heaven shall deal when his account is scanned ?
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Last night the boy came back to me again,
The laughing boy, all-credulous of good—
Long lost, far-wandered in the ways of men,
He came and roused me with an olden mood.
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How should I be the master of my ways
When every nerve is vibrant to the sweep
Of dreams that fill the measure of my days—
Too rare to lose and past all power to keep.
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Laughter and Silence for a sword and shield!
O aching heart, what war is this you wage ?
What part have you upon this furious field
Where mailed pride and reckless folly rage ?
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I sometimes think it would be sweet
If we were like the olden lovers—
The simple-hearted ones we meet
In musty books with vellum covers.
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Not on your life, Bob; not on your life! The Muse salutes you!
And if there still be virtue left in catgut,
In brass or wood, she'll sound a stave that's worthy
The squarest, hardest hitting slugger that ever pawed
the sawdust!
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He marks his shadow in the sun,
His form is fair, his dream is proud;
But shadow, form, and dream are one
And vanish like an empty cloud.
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It is no bondage to be free to give
Our all to Him who first so freely gave,
That in his living we may ever live;
For, losing all, the all we lose we save.
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