Than a mere deed: it fills anew the wan
Aspect of life with blood; it draws upon
Sources beyond the common reach and lore
Of mortals, to replenish at its core
The God-impassioned energy of man.
And herewith all the worlds of deed and thought
Quicken again with meaning--pulse and thrill
With Deity--that had forgot His touch.
There is not any act avails so much
As this invisible wedding of the will
With Life--yea, though it seem to accomplish naught.

_Henry Bryan Binns._

From "The Free Spirit."

HE WHOM A DREAM HATH POSSESSED

The man possessed by a vision is not perplexed, troubled, restricted, as
the rest of us are. He wanders yet is not lost from home, sees a million
dawns yet never night descending, faces death and destruction and in
them finds triumph.

He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of doubting,
For mist and the blowing of winds and the mouthing of words he scorns;
Not the sinuous speech of schools he hears, but a knightly shouting,
And never comes darkness down, yet he greeteth a million morns.

He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of roaming;
All roads and the flowing of waves and the speediest flight he knows,
But wherever his feet are set, his soul is forever homing,
And going, he comes, and coming he heareth a call and goes.

He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of sorrow,
At death and the dropping of leaves and the fading of suns he smiles,
For a dream remembers no past and scorns the desire of a morrow,
And a dream in a sea of doom sets surely the ultimate isles.

He whom a dream hath possessed treads the impalpable marches,
From the dust of the day's long road he leaps to a laughing star,
And the ruin of worlds that fall he views from eternal arches,
And rides God's battlefield in a flashing and golden car.

_Sheamus O Sheel._

From "The Lyric Year."

SUCCESS

As necessity is the mother of invention, strong desire is the mother of
attainment.

If you want a thing bad enough
To go out and fight for it,
Work day and night for it,
Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for it
If only desire of it
Makes you quite mad enough
Never to tire of it,
Makes you hold all other things tawdry and cheap for it
If life seems all empty and useless without it
And all that you scheme and you dream is about it,
If gladly you'll sweat for it,
Fret for it,