Verse > Anthologies > George Willis Cooke, ed. > The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology
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George Willis Cooke, comp.  The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology.  1903.
 
Force
By Edward Rowland Sill (1841–1887)
 
THE STARS know a secret
  They do not tell;
And morn brings a message
  Hidden well.
 
There ’s a blush on the apple,        5
  A tint on the wing,
And the bright wind whistles,
  And the pulses sting.
 
Perish dark memories!
  There ’s light ahead;        10
This world ’s for the living;
  Not for the dead.
 
In the shining city,
  On the loud pave,
The life-tide is running,        15
  Like a leading wave.
 
How the stream quickens,
  As noon draws near,
No room for loiterers,
  No time for fear.        20
 
Out on the farm lands
  Earth smiles as well;
Gold-crusted grain-fields,
  With sweet, warm smell;
 
Whir of the reaper,        25
  Like a giant bee;
Like a Titan cricket,
  Thrilling with glee.
 
On mart and meadow,
  Pavement or plain;        30
On azure mountain,
  Or azure main—
 
Heaven bends in blessing;
  Lost is but won;
Goes the good rain-cloud,        35
  Comes the good sun!
 
Only babes whimper,
  And sick men wail,
And faint hearts and feeble hearts
  And weaklings fail.        40
 
Down the great currents
  Let the boat swing;
There was never winter
  But brought the spring.
 
 
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