Drabs and vixens in a flash made whole! Gone was the weasel-head, the snout, the jowl! Sages and sibyls now, and athletes clean, Rulers of empires and of forests green! (Grand chorus of all instruments. Tambourines to the foreground) The hosts were sandalled, and their wings were fire! (Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?) But their noise played havoc with the angel-choir (Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?) O, shout Salvation! It was good to see Kings and Princes by the Lamb set free. The banjos rattled and the tambourines Jing-jing-jingled in the hands of Queens. (Reverently sung, no instruments) And when Booth halted by the curb for prayer He saw his Master thro' the flag-filled air. Christ came gently with a robe and crown For Booth the soldier, while the throng knelt down. He saw King Jesus. They were face to face, And he knelt a-weeping in that holy place. Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? Compensation. [William Ellery Leonard] I know the sorrows of the last abyss: I walked the cold black pools without a star; I lay on rock of unseen flint and spar; I heard the execrable serpent hiss; I dreamed of sun, fruit-tree, and virgin's kiss; I woke alone with midnight near and far, And everlasting hunger, keen to mar; But I arose, and my reward is this: I am no more one more amid the throng: Though name be naught, and lips forever weak, I seem to know at last of mighty song; And with no blush, no tremor on the cheek, I do claim consort with the great and strong Who suffered ill and had the gift to speak. A Girl's Songs. [Mary Carolyn Davies] Borrower I sing of sorrow, I sing of weeping. I have no sorrow. I only borrow From some tomorrow Where it lies sleeping, Enough of sorrow To sing of weeping. Vintage Heartbreak that is too new Can not be used to make Beauty that will startle; That takes an old heartbreak. Old heartbreaks are old wine. Too new to pour is mine. The Kiss Your kiss lies on my face Like the first snow Upon a summer place. Bewildered by that wonder, The grasses tremble under The thing they do not know. I tremble even so. Free Over and over I tell the sky: I am free -- I! Over and over I tell the sea: -- I am free! Over and over I tell my lover I am free, free! Over and over. But when the night comes black and cold, I who am young, with fear grow old; And I know, when the world is clear of sound, I am bound -- bound. The Enchanted Sheepfold. [Josephine Preston Peabody] The hills far-off were blue, blue, The hills at hand were brown; And all the herd-bells called to me As I came by the down. The briars turned to roses, roses; Ever we stayed to pull A white little rose, and a red little rose, And a lock of silver wool. Nobody heeded, -- none, none; And when True Love came by, They thought him naught but the shepherd-boy. Nobody knew but I!