Literature Relating to Staten Island 37 



. . . Let idlers argue the right and wrong 

 And weigh what merit our causes had. 

 Putting our faith in being strong — 

 Above the level of good and bad — 

 For us, we battled and burned and killed 

 Because evolving Nature willed, 

 And it was our pride and boast to be 

 The instruments of Destiny. ... 



And again, in Maktoob : 



. . . Within the book of Destiny, 



Whose leaves are Time, whose cover, Space, 



The day when you shall cease to be. 



The hour, the mode, the place. 



Are marked, they say; and you shall not 

 By taking thought or using wit 

 Alter that certain fate one jot. 

 Postpone or conjure it. 



Learn to drive fear, then, from your heart. 



If you must perish, know O man, 



'Tis an inevitable part 



Of the predestined plan. . . . 



Many of his poems show a passionate love of Hfe and all its 

 pleasures, verging upon the sensuous at times, in the frank exu- 

 berance of his youth, as when he says : 



. . . What is so fair as lovers in their joy 



That dies in sleep, their sleep that wakes in joy? 



Caressing arms are their light pillows. They 



That like lost stars have wandered hitherto 



Lonesome and lightless through the universe. 



Now glow transpired at Nature's flaming core ; 



They are the center ; constellated heaven 



Is the embroidered panoply spread round 



Their bridal, and the music of the spheres 



Rocks them in hushed epithalamium. 



... I ask nought else 



Than reincarnate to retrace my path. 



Be born again of woman, walk once more 



Through Childhood's fragrant, flowing wonderland 



