Let the Light Enter
"The dying words of Goethe."
"Light! more light! the shadows deepen,
And my life is ebbing low,
Throw the windows widely open:
Light! more light! before I go.
"Softly let the balmy sunshine
Play around my dying bed,
E'er the dimly lighted valley
I with lonely feet must tread.
"Light! more light! for Death is weaving
Shadows 'round my waning sight,
And I fain would gaze upon him
Through a stream of earthly light."
Not for greater gifts of genius;
Not for thoughts more grandly bright,
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Sir, We Would See Jesus
We would see Jesus; earth is grand,
Flowing out from her Creator's hand.
Like one who tracks his steps with light,
His footsteps ever greet our sight;
The earth below, the sky above,
Are full of tokens of his love; ?*'' .
But 'mid the fairest scenes we've sighed -
Our hearts are still unsatisfied.
We would see Jesus; proud and high
Temples and domes have met our eye.
We've gazed upon the glorious thought,
By earnest hands in marble wrought,
And listened where the flying feet
Beat time to music, soft and sweet;
But bow'rs of ease, and halls of pride,
Our yearning hearts ne'er satisfied.
We would see Jesus; we have heard
Tidings our inmost souls have stirred,
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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I Thirst
FIRST VOICE.
I thirst, but earth cannot allay
The fever coursing through my veins,
The healing stream is far away--
It flows through Salem's lovely plains.
The murmurs of its crystal flow
Break ever o'er this world of strife;
My heart is weary, let me go,
To bathe it in the stream of life;
For many worn and weary hearts
Have bathed in this pure healing stream,
And felt their griefs and cares depart,
E'en like some sad forgotten dream.
SECOND VOICE.
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Dandelions
Welcome children of the Spring,
In your garbs of green and gold,
Lifting up your sun-crowned heads
On the verdant plain and wold.
As a bright and joyous troop
From the breast of earth ye came
Fair and lovely are your cheeks,
With sun-kisses all aflame.
In the dusty streets and lanes,
Where the lowly children play,
There as gentle friends ye smile,
Making brighter life's highway
Dewdrops and the morning sun,
Weave your garments fair and bright,
And we welcome you to-day
As the children of the light.
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Songs for the People
Let me make the songs for the people,
Songs for the old and young;
Songs to stir like a battle-cry
Wherever they are sung.
Not for the clashing of sabres,
For carnage nor for strife;
But songs to thrill the hearts of men
With more abundant life.
Let me make the songs for the weary,
Amid life's fever and fret,
Till hearts shall relax their tension,
And careworn brows forget.
Let me sing for little children,
Before their footsteps stray,
Sweet anthems of love and duty,
To float o'er life's highway.
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Dying Queen
"I would meet death awake."
The strength that bore her on for years
Was ebbing fast away,
And o'er the pale and lifep;worn face,
Death's solemn shadows lay.
With tender love and gentle care,
Friends gathered round her bed,
And for her sake each footfall hushed
The echoes of its tread.
They knew the restlessness of death
Through every nerve did creep,
And carefully they tried to lull
The dying Queen to sleep.
In vain she felt Death's icy hand
Her failing heart-strings shake;
And, rousing up, she firmly said,
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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A Grain Of Sand
Do you see this grain of sand
Lying loosely in my hand?
Do you know to me it brought
Just a simple loving thought?
When one gazes night by night
On the glorious stars of light,
Oh how little seems the span
Measured round the life of man.
Oh! how fleeting are his years
With their smiles and their tears;
Can it be that God does care
For such atoms as we are?
Then outspake this grain of sand
'I was fashioned by His hand
In the star lit realms of space
I was made to have a place.
'Should the ocean flood the world,
Were its mountains 'gainst me hurled
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Crocuses
They heard the South wind sighing
A murmur of the rain;
And they knew that Earth was longing
To see them all again.
While the snow-drops still were sleeping
Beneath the silent sod;
They felt their new life pulsing
Within the dark, cold clod.
Not a daffodil nor daisy
Had dared to raise its head;
Not a fairhaired dandelion
Peeped timid from its bed;
Though a tremor of the winter
Did shivering through them run;
Yet they lifted up their foreheads
To greet the vernal sun.
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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My Heart
List I to the hurried beatings
Of my heart;
How its quickened, loud repeatings
Make me start!
Often do I hear it throbbing
Fast and wild;
As I've heard it, after sobbing,
When a child.
Why so wild, so swift and heated,
Little heart?
Is there something in thee seated,
Baffling art?
Pain with all thy throbs is blended--
Pain so dread!
Oftentimes life seems suspended
By a thread!
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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N. P. Rogers
Rogers, will not future story
Tell thy glorious fame?
And in hues of living glory
Robe thy spotless name?
There was more than mortal seeming
In thy wondrous eye,--
Like a silv'ry star-ray gleaming
Through a liquid _sky_.
Of that angel spirit telling,
Noble, clear and bright,
In thy 'inner temple' dwelling,
Veiled from mortal sight!
Of that spirit meek and lowly,
Yet so bold and free,
In its all-absorbing, holy,
Love of Liberty.
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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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