 | [To a reverend friend, in] The opal : a pure gift for the holy days |  |
74
TO A REVEREND FRIEND,
DEPARTING FOR MARYLAND.
Fly to the south, on smooth and gliding wing—Fealtied to Washington and Ravenscroft
By firmer ties than bondman, lord, or king—
In fearless talons bearing high aloft
Shafts plucked in many fields of bearded truth;
But sailing onward, feel with noble ruth
And kindliest hope, how sad a realm may lie
Beneath a heavenward and a human eye.
What though the black shot of the fowler ring,
Shattering the cold and hollow air around thee!
And though the world's vain noise would fain confound thee,
Calm be thy flight!—Let gentlest motions bring
Thy sacred feet, my Earliest Friend, to rest
In lands that wait thy coming to be blest!
| [To a reverend friend, in] The opal : a pure gift for the holy days | |