Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams, Bridged over by our broken dreams, Behind the misty caps of years, Beyond the great salt fount of tears The garden lies. Strive as you may, You cannot miss it in your way. All paths that have been or may be, Pass somewhere through Gethsemane. All those who journey, soon or late, Must pass within the garden’s gate; Must kneel alone in darkness there, And battle with some fierce despair. God pity those who cannot say “Not mine but Thine;” who only pray “Let this cup pass,” and cannot see The _purpose_ in Gethsemane. THE COMING MAN. Oh, not for the great departed, Who formed our country’s laws, And not for the bravest-hearted Who died in freedom’s cause, And not for some living hero To whom all bend the knee, My muse would raise her song of praise-- But for the man _to be_. For out of the strife which woman Is passing through to-day, A man that is more than human Shall yet be born, I say. A man in whose pure spirit No dross of self will lurk; A man who is strong to cope with wrong, A man who is proud to work. A man with hope undaunted, A man with godlike power, Shall come when he most is wanted, Shall come at the needed hour. He shall silence the din and clamor Of clan disputing with clan, And toil’s long fight with purse-proud might Shall triumph through this man. I know he is coming, coming, To help, to guide, to save. Though I hear no martial drumming, And see no flags that wave. But the great soul travail of woman, And the bold free thought unfurled, Are heralds that say he is on the way-- The coming man of the world. Mourn not for vanished ages With their great heroic men, Who dwell in history’s pages And live in the poet’s pen. For the grandest times are before us, And the world is yet to see The noblest worth of this old earth In the men that are to be. A MAN’S REPENTANCE. [Intended for recitation at club dinners.] To-night when I came from the club at eleven, Under the gaslight I saw a face-- A woman’s face! and I swear to heaven It looked like the ghastly ghost of--Grace! And Grace? why, Grace was fair; and I tarried, And loved her a season as we men do. And then--but pshaw! why, of course, she is married, Has a husband and doubtless a babe or two. She was perfectly calm on the day we parted; She spared me a scene, to my great surprise. She wasn’t the kind to be broken-hearted, I remember she said, with a spark in her eyes. I was tempted, I know, by her proud defiance To make good my promises there and then. But the world would have called it a mésalliance! I dreaded the comments and sneers of men.