Albert Smythe
Albert Smythe Poems
I know that the Master walked on earth,
For I've heard the tale of His human birth,
And all that He did would I have done
Had he been mortal and I God's Son.
...
ONE figure flitting through my dreamland ways
Holds out dear hands and beckons me to go,
And all the world is sweeter for a phrase
That dimly whispers when the lights are low.
Once, leaping through the silences of snow,
Far up the heights, the sky all turned to haze,
A little rill, escaping, rippled so:
Adventured thus, my dreamland figure strays.
Belated on the spray that afternoon
The red, unripened bramble-berries hung,
Touched with November sunshine, fading soon–
A smile, untimely bright, in mockery flung;
A blackbird, all his summer anthems sung,
Fled with a scream; about our feet lay strewn
The leafy havoc; and my heart was wrung
To know, too late for life, life's only boon.
They pass, these uninterpretable years,
A weird, oracular host, abrupt and stern,
Interminably ranked. Time domineers,
Despoiling us of all the joys we earn;
And yet, Soul-shiningly, the mist-banks burn
With glory on the hither side of tears.
The out-world phantoms nevermore return;
The world within enfolds the years and spheres.
...
Once again the ocean fulness,
Once again the daring leap,
All my limbs o'er-lapped in coolness,
All my joy upon the deep–
...
What shall it profit a man
To gain the world–if he can–
And lose his soul, as they say
In their uninstructed way?
...
Dear little darkened way where we have climbed
How often and again,
Down to the still, star-shadowed haunt where chimed
Uncounted hours of peace beyond all pain!–
...
Albert Smythe Biography
Albert Ernest Stafford Smythe was a Canadian poet and journalist. Life Smythe was born in Gracehill, County Antrin, Ireland, the son of Leonora Cary and Stafford Smythe. He worked as a journalist in Belfast, in Chicago, and in Toronto for the Globe, the World, and The Lamp. In 1890 he married Mary Adelaide Constantine, whom he had met on a translatlantic voyage; the couple had one son. His wife died in 1906, and he remarried in 1912. He published two volumes of poetry. He introduced theosophy into Canada, and was the first president of the Theosophical Society of Toronto. He died in Hamilton, Ontario.)
The Best Poem Of Albert Smythe
The Way Of The Master
I know that the Master walked on earth,
For I've heard the tale of His human birth,
And all that He did would I have done
Had he been mortal and I God's Son.
I know that His heart was crushed and wrung,
For I've cherished that which has turned and stung;
And He could not help but love us all
Though some are held in an evil thrall.
And I know that His law was Brotherhood,
And His life was gentle and kind and good,
And all that the sad earth needs this hour
To bring men peace, is to use that power.
I have overtaken many a band
Of pilgrims following Faith's command,
And journeyed awhile where their prophet led,
Then, passing on, found the Path ahead,
With the Master's guide-marks, true and just,
And His foot-prints marked in the clay and dust,
But over-trodden, effaced and blurred,
By those who followed some lesser Word.
I may pass them all in the years, perchance,
And reach new realms of the soul's expanse,
And many may follow where I have gone–
But the Master still will be leading on.
For the best I know of His heart to-day,
When I've bettered that, will have sunk away
In the knowledge gained from my higher place
Of His endless love, of His boundless grace.
O comrade mine, we shall never part
In the living way of the loving heart,
Where the lust of gold and the wanton's guile
And the cup of the curse shall not defile,
For I know the Master walked on earth,
I have heard the tale of his human birth,
And all that He did would I have done
Had He been mortal and I God's Son.
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