Bahá’í World/Volume 9/Verse

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[Page 931]

A SONG OF THE DAWN

Joy is from Eternity!

Joy is more ancient than Time-vast as infinitude!

Out of joy doth all proceed, and in the arms of joy is creation upheld!

Joy is in the Beginning, Joy is before the founding of the worlds!

Joy is the mighty, the impregnable, the everlasting.

Joy is the life and light of all; and nought exists that is not filled with the breath of joy.

The voice of joy breaks forth on every hand in water, in wind, in rustling leaf and singing bird; and listening night lays her hand upon the earth's wild heart to hear the universal chant of joy float from the fiery stars.

O God, O God, the dawn of joy is broken!

The flood gates of light are open, and joy descends in torrents on the earth.

The frosts of life melt in the sunshine of Thy joy. Thy kiss of joy has touched all, sweetened all!

Thy joy triumphant conquers the heart of man, and in the depth of our being joy awakes.

There is no room for sadness, for doubt.

Within, without, joy fills all space, all time, all thought.

The prophet's voice, the lover's heart, proclaim the victory of joy. Far and wide, in every clime, in every land, the soul of man wakens to join at last that triumph song of praise which for long ages Truth unheard of men, has sung to God in solitude.

-GEORGE TOWNSHEND.

WAR: A LANDSCAPE OF THE SOUL

HORACE HOLLEY

This, in the cryptic shadows of a vine By moonlight carved on a forsaken wall I read, and marveled.

It was nothing more Than shadows sprawling a forsaken wall In moonlight and in silence.

Nothing more...

"The lamp has flickered into darkness. Now The chosen book I held beneath the lamp That voyaged me to many shores of peace Drops like a loosened plummet, Deep on deep.

Each figured tapestry that made the room Mirror against a flattering mystery Fades to a desert's worn and barren gray, An old mirage I painted to be true.

The room is all unwound, An empty spool.

Now in the shuddering night the night I am Goes forth from me at last, And all is dark- Hope, memory, will- And I go forth alone, If darkness from itself may turn at last.

"But I beneath the ocean of this night Sink down, With all the dreams that I let go.

Above me voyages, Lone deaths away, A moon that makes strange harbor in the dark; And I dissolve To drops within the sea. [Page 932]"The summer was a lie Revealed in snow.

All eyeballs of the world turn blankly up, All feet are muffled, And the odorous flower I hold within my hand, An icy stone. Intolerable sameness of all lies! White silent glitter fastening on the world! My dragging footsteps mark themselves along, Quick furtive thieves Of their own hurried fear. Yet, Close where madness screams Against the snow A blackness of strange figures, Sprawling lines Flung like a child's haphazard alphabet And spelling nothing- Files of fighters dead. Sink down among them, Spread the fingers wide; Hide so the white, implacable dumb snow.

"The essence of this landscape is Its sound.

"Like great bowls overflowing, Bowls that filled Slow drop by drop To solemn overflow Through time and times appointed; Dripping down A sea of hollow sound and driven wind, The tapestry of snow and hanging cold Rolls up with melting of a fear Fulfilled. Heart's winter was a lie That love betrays. Each spattering drop drips down A sea of sound; The world of barren snow that was our heart Sweeps down like mountains Melting to the sea. To harbors of new hope, Exiles' return And emigrants from terrors more than kings. (And every tear From hardened hearts that mourn Rolls down a bright, horizonless mild sea With dipping ships And harbors of new hope.)

"The sun of this glad climate shines with God." Forsaken Vine on a forsaken wall, Your sprawling leaves in moonlight carved me so A speech of cryptic shadows, nothing more. The broken heart recalls: "I am the Vine...."

THE DAY OF GOD

"In that day, the limbs of the five continents shall tremble." -BAHÁ’U’LLÁH.

There is a Power that rules the tide of stars. And guides their foam across the deep of space. There is a power that breaks man's puny bars Of time and hate, and turns a planet's face Into a mirror for the Sun of Truth! But when that Light selects its chosen ray The people tremble at the dawning day! There is a Power brings nations to their knees And scatters men like sand, before a breeze Of everlasting Justice, that repeals Mercy, whose outraged form lies prone on earth- Our planet stands at this transcendent hour Stemming the whirlwind, to bring forth love's flower. -BEATRICE IRWIN.

"Old stranded ships That slip on inland tide, We float upon Ourselves, Swing on and on Across a bright, horizonless mild sea

TO PRAY

O Mount Carmel, chiseled of dark turquoise, Holding a Sacred portal to the sun, Oft up thy lovely terraced garden path Climb many pilgrim feet, when day is done To Pray. [Page 933]They kneel, they bow in reverence in that Shrine, Lovingly the sacred threshold kiss. Lo! There shines the spirit of the Master, blest, With hope, compassion, bliss for those who go To Pray.

Like foggy day their troubles disappear, And sorrow fades as mist before the sun. Their hearts gain peace and radiance divine When souls unite in meeting with That One To Pray.

The world now eateth lotus leaves and sleepeth. The Golden Dawn is here! O we beseech The pilgrims who in prayer have met our Lord To rise, to wake the world and then to teach Others to Pray!

-RUHANIYYIH RUTH MOFFETT. Written on Mount Carmel in November, 1927.

ON CARMEL'S AGED SLOPES

WILLIAM KENNETH CHRISTIAN

On Carmel's aged slopes let Him be laid to rest. And let the people see the simple tomb And let the people weep. There is a time for sorrow, There is a time for tribute that does wrench the heart, There is a time for eulogy, for words so beautiful: Let them be spoken!

He had known the time was near, He had blessed the wedding of a servant in His house, He had given to the poor the Friday alms, in each hand a coin He placed, to each one He spoke some cheer. And then He rested in the garden, For the time was near And the evening close at hand.

Weary body now at rest, The long life ended, the life of servitude. The One Who made humility a priceless crown, The One Who brought the east and west about a festive board, The One Who made of love a stirring call, a spark of life for faded embers, a badge of honor in a world of fear.

It is now the quiet time. The jeering throngs forgotten, The weary miles of exile fade, The man who sought to crucify, The betrayers and the mockers are now nameless ones, The prison has become a holy place.

See the people gather—hundreds, thousands, Rich, poor, Gentile, Jew, Muslim, Parsee, European, American, General official, mullá, priest, man and woman of the streets.

Hear them speak: "Whom are ye bewailing? Is it he who but yesterday was great in his life And is today in his death greater still?" "Weep one hour for the sake of him Who, for well nigh eighty years, Hath wept for you." "Woe unto the poor, For lo! goodness had departed from them, Woe unto the orphans, For their loving father is no more with them!"

You walked the chosen highway, You taught the people, lived the life, Crossed the continents and seas, Planted the ensign of the Father in the east and west, And laid the great foundation stone For the centuries still to come.

Let the throng walk up the winding road. Let the thousands bear aloft the wooden box. On Carmel's aged slopes let Him be laid to rest. And let the people weep. There is a time for sorrow.

This poem was written in 1941 for a Bahá’í commemoration of the Ascension of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, November 28, 1921. [Page 934]

A BÁBÍ MOTHER

SYDNEY SPRAGUE

The story is told of a Persian mother in the early days of Bábí martyrdoms whose son was taken out by the enemy mob and slain; his head was cut off and thrown to the mother. She picked it up and threw it back with these words-What we Bábís give to God, we do not take back.

Alone, within, she stood; the crowd without, With horrid, taunting jeer and mocking shout, Were making out of death a ghastly feast- As human blood is banquet for the beast. She knew, alas too well, who was their prey- In one brief hour they had snatched away From out her arms her own, her well beloved. Ah! for this crime was Heaven itself not moved! Why should her son, a tree of strength and truth, Be struck down in the beauty of his youth? Why should the wicked triumph o'er the good? The lamb be given to the wolves for food! Yet often he to her this warning gave "Know thou, man cannot soul and body save. My soul I give to God. If others lust For Bábi blood, then bravely die, I must." The mother trembled, strength came to her heart- "O God," she prayed, "grant unto me a part Of this day's sacrifice to Thee. I know That I so weak can little do to show My love for Thee-yet willingly I give My all to Thee-now grant me strength to live." So from the altar of that mother's love Like incense rose a martyr's soul above. Just then the crowd drew near, with hideous yell Flung something through the window- there it fell Close to her feet-she gazed at it with dread And saw in shapeless mass her loved one's head. Then by God's strength she took the head. so dear,- A prayer breathed o'er it, kissed it with a tear,- Back to the bloodhounds hurled it in her might, E'en their base souls were troubled at that sight. Triumphant rang her voice, though from the rack, "That which to God we give, we take not back!"

VIRTUOSO (TO BAHÁ’U’LLAH)

REGINALD KING

Myself is set atune To your thoughts, words, desires, As a harp, with strings aquiver, Trembles to vibrate Into a thousand notes of music. Life is a vast, high raftered room In which the harp stood silent Through the years, until You came and touched it- It responded, recognizing The Master Musician- Who understood.

TEMPLE BY THE LAKE

Bahá’í Temple, domed from gray to white, Is tipped with folded wings, all angel- wise, Symbolic of the peace of prayer that lies In sanctuaries, be it day or night. How intricately lovely to our sight, Few things more exquisite beneath the skies- A symphony to rest one's weary eyes Or fill a heavy heart with quick delight. Nonagonal, its delicate design, With infinite detail of wonder, shows Devotion from a people at a shrine, Whatever one's belief, religion grows When great harmonic beauty looms divine; Then blessing from God's heaven over- flows. -CLARA EDMUNDS-HEMINGWAY. (Reprinted from the Chicago Tribune with permis- sion from the editor.) [Page 935]

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

VIRGINIA MORAN EVANS

Lord God Who madest me One with each wind that blows, One with each swaying tree, One with each rain-bowed rose: Kind God Who drew my form From out the pregnant clay, Kith of the wildest storm, Kin of the mildest day: Strong God Who cast my soul Into this fragile shell, Into this earthly bowl, This paradise-this hell: My thanks for the right at last To stand in Thy sight and be One with the deathless past, One with eternity!

IN THE OCEAN OF THY LOVE

MARY A. MCCLENNEN

In the ocean of Thy love, O Lord, my adored One, I am cradled tonight. Thy love contains me. I am helpless, held in the winged waves of Thy love. Oh let me never be washed to the shores of dry sand! Oh let me never feel the weight of my body again!

Thy bliss has overcome me-My whole is given over to Thee. No limbs have I to hate or to desire or to possess with, But am held in the depths of Thy waters, Moved by Thy will.

In the ocean of Thy love, Oh Lord, my adored One, I am cradled tonight.

Tomorrow on the dry sands, far from Thy loving Name I may stand and long with an aching breast To reach Thee, again, To hurl myself into the midmost heart of Thy Bounty!

ON HEARING THE BAHÁ’Í MESSAGE

Because PREBLE THALE

There is no peace Other than that Which comes from within, From the inexhaustible wells Of the spirit- From our too-little recognized, Acknowledged, utilized, Heritage of cons;

Because You have helped increase My understanding Of the joyous effects of discipline Radiantly acquiesced in, In the soul's traverse Of the infinite-

My praise be to God, O beloved friend, That you have shown me the opened door To peace without end.

LORD, ANSWER ME!

SILVIA MARGOLIS

My God! I know wherefore these lips of mine Were touched and wakened with Thy love divine; Wherefore was pressed into my hand this Sword That glitters with Thy Wrath, I know my Lord; And I shall bear and brandish it until My heart doth fail with doing, Lord, Thy Will!

But lo! the chaffering crowds in these dark lands That kneel to altars made with bloody hands, The priests that traffic in Thy Statutes, Lord, The prophets that impute unto the Sword Glory and might-look 'neath their sham

Look and behold, my Lord, they are not men! Hirelings are they and greedy hustlers, all! Not one divinely troubled by Thy Call! [Page 936]Else why, when I but breathe Thy Name they flee, Roaring and rushing like the bitter sea? Else why, when I compel their leering eyes. A moment from the vulgar things they prize- They run as from the terror of the pit? Lord, Lord, answer me, why, why is it?

‘ABDU’L-BAHÁ

FRANCES MITCHELL

To us, stay close, dear Master, as we climb. Give us Your Hand. We need the Friend of Friends. Servant of God, Great Leader of the meek! May we be servants without selfish ends, In the vast household reaching to the stars. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, teach us Whose Day appears, So fair above the black and red of Mars. It lights the hearts, it dries the bitter tears. Retreating, the massed forces of the night, With fury seek to stop the Dawning Sun, As on their heels, the Angels of the Light, Pursue them with the glittering banner, One. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, give us Your Hand we pray, Lest we forget the Glory of this Day.

HEAR, O ISRAEL!

Hat dein stummes Rufen wieder mich unfangen? Führe mich die Stufen, las mich durchgelangen, wo in ernstem Dienen eigen und gerade ganz ich, ganz beschienen bin von deiner Gnade. Seele, sie beschwinget sich. leuchtend in Spiralen... fernster Glanz besinget dich, letzte Töne strahlen...

-ADELBERT MÜHLSCHLEGEL.

THE SEEKER

GERTRUDE W. ROBINSON

There must be loveliness I have not known Else hunger would not be so deep. Despair would crush me, But this yearning passion for the altitudes Beyond my ken Knows but one answer, Full completion.

No cry can be so faint, but finds response Somewhere in all infinity; And so my soul shall keep its inner urge To scale the unseen heights And breathe the unimagined airs Of rarified and mystic climes.

Somewhere all Beauty waits Beyond the Seven Valleys of the soul; And naught shall keep my hungry heart From seeking through the endless reach Of all Eternity The loveliness my heart has never known.

Hear, O Israel! Thy Lord is come, resplendent with great power; And Carmel thrills at mention of His name. Earth has dropped her shroud of mourning. That which man conceived Behind dense veils of fancy Is now replaced by lightning Truth In vivid, naked beauty.

Turn again to Him, O Israel! And read anew His Holy Word, The promise of His grace. The signs are there, with inner meaning Unrevealed until today.

Thy Lord is come! He speaks, thy Buckler and thy Shield. Hear, O Israel!

THE SUPPLIANT

SILVIA MARGOLIS

Lord, I am cold and poor and needy, Needy and poor am I again, Again my heart is bleak and empty- Empty even of pain!

I know the way unto Thy Storehouse, I know the path unto Thy Springs, But Lord, a brazen wall doth bar me: Grant me the power of wings! [Page 937]THE PROPHET OF NUR ALICE SIMMONS COX VERSE T "Who maketh effort for Us, in our way will we guide him," But, "He who turneth his back when once he hath listened"... 937 That lures now our spirits on tides of voli- tion and power Beyond our own choosing? With conscious- ness light and ecstatic We move, as it were, toward a vortex of Truth and of Beauty!" This pondered two envoys in Islám who set "Should now we resume our fond ways forth together though call of remembrance? To question with fairness the claim of One I swear by Muhammad I will not! Should old ties compel me, who had risen As Day-Star in Persia, as Guide for a world What joy would I lose that now charms my long in error; being "And whoso turneth his face to the back- And whispers I near the white Shrine of ward-what import?" Fulfillment! Asked Abu'l. "Does the Prophet fail one Am I blinded as Saul, or bewitched as the who really seeks guidance wandering dervish And then on the threshold of morning must Who sings on the highways of Islám his love pause for an instant for this Master? And true be to self before he submit to But haste! Let us go, with fairest of hearing commandment!" "Ah, no," answered 'Abbás, "if men have not glimpsed of the dawning. A difference lies here: The gods give of mercy and patience; and judgment. With question and judgment. My heart repulses that phrasing. If judge we this Man, does it seem we might forfeit our heaven? Our Allah is kind to souls that see not, yet "Oh, we seek Him to know! though our temper sun be an ember and dying. Each nerve of their beings to find some Perhaps I o'er rate Him this moment of link with Perfection, transcendent feeling, Some hidden and loving rapport with all My hope greatly praising, though eyes of that existeth. my mind have not seen Him, Or ears listened well to His vast rushing torrent of speaking Suppose on the morrow we find when we meet Husayn-'Ali, A seer, or the Promised of Ages; not frail That sweeps down the mountains of Núr finite teacher, and convinces the people. But Prophet, whose knowledge transcend- But if we should Know Him, my Abu'l, and eth our leader's, then turn us backward, Whose grace reflects God and whose claims Bereavement would shroud us as pall o'er seem truly well-founded- "What then be our action? Forget our old fealty and follow? the soul of the Judas, Who loved and rejoiced, and then closed the window of Knowledge. Would I give my life's blood to completely "Man's mystery I show," Abu'l heard in surrender? No not sacred Communion, To one who now is my teacher, though When later he knelt at the feet of the great is his learning, Teacher whose chanting And much I admire him. My soul is my Illumined his reason and woke him,-as own! and I'm loyal harps in high chancelsmin As you to the center of glory, the master Might summon the angels to singing-then within me. . . . tuned his whole spirit But, beloved! I'm suddenly shaken! What To godly emotion. Tears rose to his eyes means this enchantment and swift-flowing, [Page 938]Revealed his submission, a well-spring of reverence within him. "Return to the Mullá, I cannot," he told his companion; "I stay here to learn, not to question, the Truth that long we were seeking; The Light that we yearned for together I find here is burning." "Assurance uplifts me," cried ‘Abbas. "I worship! I praise Him! To return were a sign of my pride and ex- plicit rejection; My teacher no longer, the Mullá of Abad, who led me To seek this bright goal, but refuses to come to the Ridván... We are true to ourselves and our mission, when true to All Beauty. We give up the sceptre of will when thus we attaineth Such ransom as flows to our hearts from this Master of Guidance: He standeth within us! and we are gold beams with His Sunrise, Clear drops of the stream that grows sweet when fed from this Fountain."

DESPUÉS DE ESTAS LÁGRIMAS

By WILLIAM KENNETH CHRISTIAN Translated by LUPE TORREZ

Después de estas lágrimas La calma ventrá otra vez; La sanadora lluvia después de esta sequía. El odio tendrá que terminar su marcha, Al mal se le llegará su día, El daño de la sociedad tendrá que ser quemado.

La fiebre y la pesadilla, La punzada y estocada del dolor, El absorto aliento de angustia, La encendida frente y estremecimiento de los miembros Son muestras que invisibles fuerzas Se han reanimado para el alivio del hombre y de las naciones.

Los limitados de ensueños y estrechos de corazón Son asolados- Arrancadores de dinero y engendradores de mala fama, Los débiles, los que gimen, y los tímidos, Los cortos de vista y amantes de la antig- sedad, Esos que abrigan el sacramento de fama pagana, Los incensadores y entorpecedores de la mente, Los hombres y las mujeres que creen que el universo Se concentra en un continente, En un país, en un estado En una ciudad, en un pueblo o aldea, En una raza, una iglesia, una pandilla; Estos sufrirán enfermedad Como los tormentos de los condenados. Estos serán horrorizados, afrentados, confundidos, Asombrados, excitados, sacudidos, Por las arrastradoras fuerzas del género humano Brotando de su crisálida, Por el purificante fuego del desastre, Mientras las flaquezas y tonterías del pasado Son quemadas.

Entonces piedad tened de los ciegos de corazón Hasta que estas lágrimas hayan pasado. Con hombrecillos, pacientes sed Hasta que la pubertad hayan cumplido, Y las ansias de la adolescencia se hayan agitado; Hasta que las frustraciones de un mundo dividido Se hayan soldado en paz y en sapiencia, Con la humanidad al fin madura.

Larga puede que sea la noche y fría, Y el viento puede que azote con furia Hasta blandir el más intrépido corazón; Tal vez veamos grandes árboles desarraigados Y poderosos ríos abrir nuevos caños En la superficie del globo. Que sea-y bienvenido. Éste en la historia del hombre es el más grande momento; A menos que se derramen las lágrimas, el corazón es duro; [Page 939]

VERSE

A menos que el cielo llueva fuego, la mente sin pensar Sigue su relejado increativo camino; A menos que cimientos se desmoronen, El hombre no se mueve para fincar un mundo Digno de su verdadero destino.

Esta es la pesadilla del alma; El amargo lecho del dolor donde ajetreamos, Viendo el pasado, en mofa deslizarse en caótica corriente. Éste en suelo del valle es el más profundo sitio, Las obscuras presagiadoras paredes de granito nos encierran, Mas adelante por la tenebrosidad, el caos y la noche. Con pies firmes marchamos. Ni guerra, ni pestilencia, Ni pluma, ni espada, ni pérdida de familia o amistad, Ni el saqueo de la bestia que mora tan profunda. Dentro de cada uno de nosotros, Puede detener la marcha hacia adelante Por la obscuridad de la noche.

Aunque los oidos estén ensordecidos, Un canto existe en el alma; Aunque la mente esté muy pasmada para pensar. Podemos inconscientemente comprender Lo que el corazón comienza a presentir, Mientras por senderos ignotos Hacia nuestro destino procedemos.

El ritmo del mundo ha cambiado; El hombre salvaje a la ruina está pronosticado. Sobre el yunque de nuestro Dios, Creador del hombre y del universo. Nos va forjando y dando forma Para el nacimiento de una raza más decente. Una raza de hombres quienes harán la tierra Habitación para el hombre humano, Quienes proclamarán por continentes y mares, La unidad de todo el género humano, La unidad de toda la humanidad al fin madura.

Forjaremos un designio planetario Para unir las naciones del globo, Desdeñando diferencias De sexo, y raza, y religión; Descartando las necias creencias Que lejos nos han apartado; Hablarémos una lengua universal; Conocerémos la más elevada e inmaculada lealtad humana, La fidelidad del hombre para Dios Y el amor del ser humano para su clase.

La tierra está preñada, Y soporta una tremenda carga. Nosotros de la nueva raza, amantes de todo hombre- Nosotros somos la carga pasando por el parto. Pues que obscura sea la noche, Los pies jamás temblarán; Que crezca el estrépito, La mente más se aclarará; Mientras el dolor se aguda, El corazón con un firme, fijo latido palpitará, Sintienda el embeleso de la Mano de Dios, Presintiendo la gloria del mundo futuro, Que está más cerca que nuestro hálito y palpitantes venas, Sintiendo la estatura de la raza tan excelente, De la mente tan penetrante y la vista clara, Lo que Dios ha decretado como nuestro destino― Ahora en el renacimiento del mundo.