 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
290
A PROPHECY FOR FIFTY-TWO;
THAT WAS NOT ALL VERIFIED, BUT WHICH SHOULD HAVE BEEN.
A “to-do” you have made about Kossuth,—
I admit he is worthy your praise,
But that I'm a greater than he
You will learn, perhaps, one of these days.
I'll just put my carpet-bag down,
And show you the whole of it through;
There are rare things and mighty to see
In the budget of young Fifty-two.
I admit he is worthy your praise,
But that I'm a greater than he
You will learn, perhaps, one of these days.
I'll just put my carpet-bag down,
And show you the whole of it through;
There are rare things and mighty to see
In the budget of young Fifty-two.
They are not all fair-weather goods,
Are not all sugar and honey;
There 's much that is stormy and dark,
With a generous spice of the sunny.
Here 's a sword for the brave and the strong,
Its metal is tried and is true,
And use will be found for its steel
In the strivings of great Fifty-two.
Are not all sugar and honey;
There 's much that is stormy and dark,
With a generous spice of the sunny.
Here 's a sword for the brave and the strong,
Its metal is tried and is true,
And use will be found for its steel
In the strivings of great Fifty-two.
Its gleam shall be seen from afar,
And Freedom's brave sons cheer its ray,
And sweep with the besom of war
Old Tyranny's strongholds away;
Then man shall stand up in his might,
With energy sturdy and true,
And vow e'er to cling to the right
Imparted by blest Fifty-two.
And Freedom's brave sons cheer its ray,
And sweep with the besom of war
Old Tyranny's strongholds away;
291
With energy sturdy and true,
And vow e'er to cling to the right
Imparted by blest Fifty-two.
Here 's a promise of plenty and peace,
Rich gifts, I'll scatter them free,
Strong ships shall stagger with wealth,
From every isle of the sea;
Your garners I'll crowd to the roof,
Your pathway with riches I'll strew,
Till, blest to repletion, you'll say
You are glad to have seen Fifty-two.
Rich gifts, I'll scatter them free,
Strong ships shall stagger with wealth,
From every isle of the sea;
Your garners I'll crowd to the roof,
Your pathway with riches I'll strew,
Till, blest to repletion, you'll say
You are glad to have seen Fifty-two.
But here is a shadow of woe,
Like a pall most sombre and dark;
There joy, on life's stormy wave,
Is a ruined and desolate bark:
Here the flowers that bloom by the way
Are nothing but cypress and rue;
There many sad tokens will mark
The ravage of drear Fifty-two.
Like a pall most sombre and dark;
There joy, on life's stormy wave,
Is a ruined and desolate bark:
Here the flowers that bloom by the way
Are nothing but cypress and rue;
There many sad tokens will mark
The ravage of drear Fifty-two.
Here speaketh the voice of the storm,
And felt is the hurricane's breath;
There Pestilence reareth its form,
And guideth the arrows of Death,
Here hearts are stilled—how still!
Which late such lovingness knew;
There darkling fears, and sighs and tears,
Note the passage of Fifty-two.
And felt is the hurricane's breath;
There Pestilence reareth its form,
And guideth the arrows of Death,
Here hearts are stilled—how still!
Which late such lovingness knew;
There darkling fears, and sighs and tears,
Note the passage of Fifty-two.
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Here 's a crisis for loving hearts,
The kindling of Hymen's blaze,
And Cupid's arrows and darts,
And flower-crowned wedding days.
And babies, and cradles, and such,
Come merrily into view,
And infant voices make loud acclaim
Of the joys of Fifty-two.
The kindling of Hymen's blaze,
And Cupid's arrows and darts,
And flower-crowned wedding days.
And babies, and cradles, and such,
Come merrily into view,
And infant voices make loud acclaim
Of the joys of Fifty-two.
O, a budget most rare is mine,
Brim-full of goods and ills,
From the destiny great of states
To the settling of tradesman's bills;
And the plans of old Fifty-one
I am bound to see “put through,”
For the seeds he sowed and guarded
Shall blossom in Fifty-two.
Brim-full of goods and ills,
From the destiny great of states
To the settling of tradesman's bills;
And the plans of old Fifty-one
I am bound to see “put through,”
For the seeds he sowed and guarded
Shall blossom in Fifty-two.
But hark! my work must begin;
I hear the old year's sigh,
As he turns himself in his bed,
And makes a motion to die!
My mission I must perform,
And my varied gifts must strew,
Now give a good-by to Fifty-one,
And a welcome to Fifty-two.
I hear the old year's sigh,
As he turns himself in his bed,
And makes a motion to die!
My mission I must perform,
And my varied gifts must strew,
Now give a good-by to Fifty-one,
And a welcome to Fifty-two.
| Rhymes with reason and without | |