 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
338
THE PERFECT STATE.
Where is the perfect State
Early most blest and late,
Perfect and bright?
'Tis where no Palace stands
Trembling on shifting sands
Morning and night.
'Tis where the soil is free,
Where, far as eye may see,
Scattered o'er hill and lea,
Homesteads abound;
Where clean and broad and sweet
(Market, square, lane, and street,
Belted by leagues of wheat),
Cities are found.
Early most blest and late,
Perfect and bright?
'Tis where no Palace stands
Trembling on shifting sands
Morning and night.
'Tis where the soil is free,
Where, far as eye may see,
Scattered o'er hill and lea,
Homesteads abound;
Where clean and broad and sweet
(Market, square, lane, and street,
Belted by leagues of wheat),
Cities are found.
Where is the perfect State
Early most blest and late,
Gentle and good?
'Tis where no lives are seen
Huddling in lanes unseen,
Crying for food;
'Tis where the home is pure,
'Tis where the bread is sure,
'Tis where the wants are fewer,
And each want fed;
Where plenty and peace abide,
Where health dwells heavenly-eyed,
Where in nooks beautified,
Slumber the Dead.
Early most blest and late,
Gentle and good?
'Tis where no lives are seen
Huddling in lanes unseen,
Crying for food;
'Tis where the home is pure,
'Tis where the bread is sure,
'Tis where the wants are fewer,
And each want fed;
Where plenty and peace abide,
Where health dwells heavenly-eyed,
Where in nooks beautified,
Slumber the Dead.
Where is the perfect State
Unvexed by Wrath and Hate,
Quiet and just?
Where to no form of creed
Fetter'd are thought and deed,
Reason and trust.
'Tis where the great free mart
Broadens, while from its heart
Forth the great ships depart,
Blown by the wind;
'Tis where the wise men's eyes,
Fixed on the earth and skies,
Seeking for signs, devise
Good for mankind.
Unvexed by Wrath and Hate,
Quiet and just?
Where to no form of creed
Fetter'd are thought and deed,
Reason and trust.
'Tis where the great free mart
Broadens, while from its heart
Forth the great ships depart,
Blown by the wind;
'Tis where the wise men's eyes,
Fixed on the earth and skies,
Seeking for signs, devise
Good for mankind.
Where is the perfect State,
Holy and consecrate,
Blessedly wrought?
'Tis where all waft abroad
Wisdom and faith in God,
Beautiful thought.
'Tis where the Poet's sense
Deepens in reverence,
While to his truths intense
Multitudes turn.
Where the bright sons of art,
Walking in street or mart,
Feel mankind's reverent heart
Tremble and yearn.
Holy and consecrate,
Blessedly wrought?
'Tis where all waft abroad
Wisdom and faith in God,
Beautiful thought.
'Tis where the Poet's sense
Deepens in reverence,
While to his truths intense
Multitudes turn.
Where the bright sons of art,
Walking in street or mart,
Feel mankind's reverent heart
Tremble and yearn.
Say, is the perfect State,
Strong and self-adequate,
There where it stands,
Perfect in praise of God,
Casting no thoughts abroad
Over the lands?
Nay: for by each man's side
Hangeth a weapon tried;
Nay: for wise leaders guide
Under the Lord.
Nor, when a people cries,
Smiling with half-shut eyes,
Waiteth this State,—but flies,
Lifting the Sword.
Strong and self-adequate,
There where it stands,
Perfect in praise of God,
Casting no thoughts abroad
Over the lands?
Nay: for by each man's side
Hangeth a weapon tried;
Nay: for wise leaders guide
Under the Lord.
Nor, when a people cries,
Smiling with half-shut eyes,
Waiteth this State,—but flies,
Lifting the Sword.
Where is the perfect State?
Not where men sit and wait,
Selfishly strong;
While some lost sister State
Crieth most desolate,
Ruin'd by wrong;
Not where men calmly sleep,
Tho' all the world should weep
Not where they merely heap
Gold in the sun:
Not where in charity
Men with mere dust are free,
When o'er the weary sea
Murder is done.
Not where men sit and wait,
Selfishly strong;
While some lost sister State
Crieth most desolate,
Ruin'd by wrong;
Not where men calmly sleep,
Tho' all the world should weep
Not where they merely heap
Gold in the sun:
Not where in charity
Men with mere dust are free,
When o'er the weary sea
Murder is done.
Which is the perfect State?
Not the self-adequate
Coward and cold;
Not the brute thing of health,
Swollen with gather'd wealth,
Sleepy and old.
Nay, but the mighty land
Ever with helping hand,
Ever with flaming brand,
Rising in power:
This is the fair and great,
This the evangel State,
Letting no wrong'd land wait
In the dark hour.
Not the self-adequate
Coward and cold;
Not the brute thing of health,
Swollen with gather'd wealth,
Sleepy and old.
Nay, but the mighty land
Ever with helping hand,
Ever with flaming brand,
Rising in power:
This is the fair and great,
This the evangel State,
Letting no wrong'd land wait
In the dark hour.
339
This is the perfect State,
Early in arms and late;
Blessed at home;—
Ready at Freedom's cry
Forward to fare and die,
Over the foam.
Loving States great and small,
Loving home best of all,
Yet at the holy call
Springing abroad:
This is the royal State,
Perfect and adequate,
Equal to any fate,
Chosen of God!
Early in arms and late;
Blessed at home;—
Ready at Freedom's cry
Forward to fare and die,
Over the foam.
Loving States great and small,
Loving home best of all,
Yet at the holy call
Springing abroad:
This is the royal State,
Perfect and adequate,
Equal to any fate,
Chosen of God!
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |