_'Crowns are for the valiant--sceptres for the bold! Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.'_ 'Nay!' said the Baron, kneeling in his hall, 'But Iron--Cold Iron--is master of man all! Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!' A SONG OF KABIR Oh, light was the world that he weighed in his hands! Oh, heavy the tale of his fiefs and his lands! He has gone from the _guddee_ and put on the shroud, And departed in guise of _bairagi_ avowed! Now the white road to Delhi is mat for his feet. The _sal_ and the _kikar_ must guard him from heat. His home is the camp, and the waste, and the crowd-- He is seeking the Way as _bairagi_ avowed! He has looked upon Man, and his eyeballs are clear-- (There was One; there is One, and but One, saith Kabir); The Red Mist of Doing has thinned to a cloud-- He has taken the Path for _bairagi_ avowed! To learn and discern of his brother the clod, Of his brother the brute, and his brother the God, He has gone from the council and put on the shroud ('Can ye hear?' saith Kabir), a _bairagi_ avowed! A CAROL Our Lord Who did the Ox command To kneel to Judah's King, He binds His frost upon the land To ripen it for Spring-- To ripen it for Spring, good sirs, According to His Word; Which well must be as ye can see-- And who shall judge the Lord? When we poor fenmen skate the ice Or shiver on the wold, We hear the cry of a single tree That breaks her heart in the cold-- That breaks her heart in the cold, good sirs, And rendeth by the board; Which well must be as ye can see-- And who shall judge the Lord? Her wood is crazed and little worth Excepting as to burn, That we may warm and make our mirth Until the Spring return-- Until the Spring return, good sirs. When people walk abroad; Which well must be as ye can see-- And who shall judge the Lord? God bless the master of this house. And all who sleep therein! And guard the fens from pirate folk. And keep us all from sin, To walk in honesty, good sirs, Of thought and deed and word! Which shall befriend our latter end-- And who shall judge the Lord? 'MY NEW-CUT ASHLAR' My new-cut ashlar takes the light Where crimson-blank the windows flare. By my own work before the night, Great Overseer, I make my prayer. If there be good in that I wrought, Thy Hand compelled it, Master, Thine-- Where I have failed to meet Thy Thought I know, through Thee, the blame was mine. One instant's toil to Thee denied Stands all Eternity's offence. Of that I did with Thee to guide To Thee, through Thee, be excellence. The depth and dream of my desire, The bitter paths wherein I stray-- Thou knowest Who hath made the Fire, Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay. Who, lest all thought of Eden fade, Bring'st Eden to the craftsman's brain-- Godlike to muse o'er his own Trade And manlike stand with God again!