HKB
else, truth is not ours; That only ours which we create, by which We live and grow, and so we come again By this path of my own to India.
What shall we do, you ask, if business dies, If the western world, the world for socialism Lops off its leaves and branches, and the sap Is thrown back in the trunk unused, or if This light upon the lotus quiets us And makes us mind entirely? Well, I say, Men have not lived, enjoyed enough before. Our strength has gone to get the means for strength. We roll the rock of business up, and see The rock roll down, and roll it up again. And if the new day does not give us work In finding what our minds are, how to use them, And how to live more beautifully, I miss A guess I often make.
But now to close: Only the blind have failed to see how truly This Elenor Murray worked her Karma out. And how she put forth strength to cure her weakness, And went her vital way, and toiled and died. Peace to all worlds, and peace to Elenor Murray.
The coroner had heard that Elenor Murray Once crossed the Arctic Circle. What of that? She traveled, it was proved. What happened there? What hunter after secrets could find out? But on a day the name of Elenor Murray Is handled by two men who sit and talk In Fairbanks, and the talk is in these words:
AT FAIRBANKS
Bill, look here! Here's the Times. You see this picture, Read if you like a little later. You never Heard how I came to Fairbanks, chanced to stay. It's eight years now. You see in nineteen eleven I lived in Hammond, Indiana, thought I'd like a trip, see mountains, see Alaska, Perhaps find fortune or a woman--well You know from your experience how it is. It was July and from the train I saw The Canadian Rockies, stopped at Banff a day, At Lake Louise, and so forth. At Vancouver Found travelers feasting, Englishmen in drink, Flirtations budding, coming into flower; And eager spirits waiting for the boat. Up to this time I hadn't made a friend, Stalked silently about along the streets, Drank Scotch like all the rest, as much besides.
Well, then we took the steamship Princess Alice And started up the Inland Channel--great! Got on our cheeks the breezes from the crystal Cradles of the north, began at once To find the mystery, silence, see clear stars, The whites and blacks and greens along the shores. And still I had no friend, was quite alone. Just as I came on deck I saw a face, Looked, stared perhaps. Her eyes went over me, Would not look at me. At the dinner table She sat far down from me, I could not see her, But made a point to rise when she arose, Did all I could to catch her eye--no use. So things went and I gave up--still I wondered Why she had no companion. Was she married? Was husband waiting her, at Skagway?--well I fancied something of the sort, at last, And as I said, gave up.