Poem by Alexander Anderson

Look to the East

THE dead man came from out the grave,
He grasp'd my hand, and said, "Be brave."

I cried, "So very far away,
Yet thou hast sympathy with clay."

He said, "What would it profit me
To turn from thy humanity?"

"Alas!" I sigh'd, "I am but dust,
And the old failing of mistrust

Comes up within me, and I fear
I falter with no purpose here."

The dead man stood like one who saith
A prayer, then ask'd, "Hast thou no faith?"

I look'd at him; within his eyes
The tears rose up as in surprise.

Then I made answer to his thought—
"Thou knowest all, and I know nought."

Across his brow a shade of pain
Pass'd, but to leave it clear again.

He ask'd, reproach his voice within,
"Art thou, too, smitten with that sin

Which looks before this life, to seek,
What God himself will never speak,

Until this death we paint so grim,
Guide thee through the dread grave to Him?"

I bow'd my head as if in shame
To hear the dead man's gentle blame.

Then, sweet and low, he spoke again,
"Hast thou faith in thy fellow men?"

"Yea," I return'd, "for still my kind
Toil to leave something good behind,

Which, in the unborn after years,
Will ripen kindly with their peers."

I paused, and he, when this was said,
Laid one soft hand upon my head,

And thus made answer ere I wist,
"Behind thy kind work God and Christ,

And all the marvels men can do,
Are but the shadow of these Two.

Whom, then, deserves thy greater trust,
God, Christ, or men who are but dust?

"I knelt down at the dead man's feet;
His tears fell on me soft and sweet.

He raised me up, and hand in hand
We stood, as two together stand.

Then breast to breast, within my ear
He whisper'd words of love and cheer.

Such words a living mortal may
Not whisper, but the dead can say.

Then said, as he touch'd lips and eyes,
"Look to the east; the sun will rise."

I turn'd; my soul was strong again
To trust God, Christ, and toiling men.

And still when doubt wakes from its rest
That dead man clasps me to his breast,

And soul to soul like friends respond:
Mine from this earth; his from beyond.

Mine sighs, "I falter;" his replies,
"Look to the east; the sun will rise."

1. The Open Secret
2. In Rome
3. John Keats
4. Agnes Died
5. Blood on the Wheel

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