Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/139

"Love drew my youth from the sweet soil of France,"
Sorrows of exile toned the mellow voice
That first had spoken; "tender yet my age,
Called by strange gospels of the silent heart
That beats in all men—so the Master said—
And ever hears a spiritual voice
Amid the worldly strife; that voice I heard,
Brooding above the Master's sacred charge,
Who, laying his thin hands upon my youth,
Thus vowed my life to lowliest ministries:
'To have no name; to touch no gold; to own
City nor country where to lay thy head;
To wander through the world, the friend of him
Who has no friend, easing the daily weight
Of this so bitter life; to brother all,
But bind no dear companion to thy side
Save to divide his burden; not to think
Of earthly recompense nor heaven's reward;
To hope no gain; to fear no loss; but live,
Free from the mortal tangle of the self,
For others only, humbly so to serve
Among the humble; nor make state nor race
A barrier to the soul; but give thy love
No bound, no limit; so the mighty heart

Of the whole world shall beat against thy side,