 | [Poems by Smith in] The native poets of Maine |  |
1
ODE TO CHESAPEAKE BAY.
Thou Ocean Bay!
Though now with sails unfurl'd,
Collecting from the mighty deep,
Over thy curling waters sweep
The fleets of half the world;
There was a day,
Nor distant far the time,
When in thy solitude sublime,
Save light canoe by artless savage plied,
No sail was ever seen to skim thy billowy tide.
Though now with sails unfurl'd,
Collecting from the mighty deep,
Over thy curling waters sweep
The fleets of half the world;
There was a day,
Nor distant far the time,
When in thy solitude sublime,
Save light canoe by artless savage plied,
No sail was ever seen to skim thy billowy tide.
Bright Chesapeake—
Though now thy shores are crown'd
With grassy lawns and fields of grain,
That smile and cheer the laboring swain,
And songs go blithely round,
That well bespeak
How pleasant joys may flow;
Yet two short centuries ago
No human voice was here, save savage yell,
And dark upon thy wave the forest shadows fell,
Though now thy shores are crown'd
With grassy lawns and fields of grain,
That smile and cheer the laboring swain,
And songs go blithely round,
That well bespeak
How pleasant joys may flow;
Yet two short centuries ago
No human voice was here, save savage yell,
And dark upon thy wave the forest shadows fell,
Mother of waters—
Thy noble streams did glide
Beneath a woody canopy,
Through countless years; and bright and free,
And lovely by thy side,
As beauteous daughters,
They lift their voice on high,
And clap their hands as they go by
Proud Baltimore's rich monuments and domes,
Columbia's palace-halls, and Richmond's patriot homes.
Thy noble streams did glide
Beneath a woody canopy,
Through countless years; and bright and free,
And lovely by thy side,
As beauteous daughters,
They lift their voice on high,
And clap their hands as they go by
Proud Baltimore's rich monuments and domes,
Columbia's palace-halls, and Richmond's patriot homes.
165
THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
Unto the holy city came
Judea's hapless sons and daughters,
The paralytic, blind and lame,
To seek Bethesda's healing waters—
The Angel o'er the fountain mov'd
With kindly power from day to day;
And he that first its virtues prov'd,
Was heal'd, and forthwith went his way.
Judea's hapless sons and daughters,
The paralytic, blind and lame,
To seek Bethesda's healing waters—
The Angel o'er the fountain mov'd
With kindly power from day to day;
And he that first its virtues prov'd,
Was heal'd, and forthwith went his way.
Amid the throng who waited there,—
Judea's sons and daughters,—
A patient Hebrew many a year
Had watch'd the troubled waters.
And often at the healing hour
He feebly toward the fountain bore him,
But all too late to feel its power,
For one had always stepp'd before him.
Judea's sons and daughters,—
A patient Hebrew many a year
Had watch'd the troubled waters.
And often at the healing hour
He feebly toward the fountain bore him,
But all too late to feel its power,
For one had always stepp'd before him.
A stranger came and look'd awhile
On him who there in anguish lay,
Then kindly said, with holy smile,
‘Hebrew, arise and go thy way!’
As forth into the world that hour,
With footsteps light, the Hebrew trod,
‘I've felt,’ he cried, ‘the Almighty's power,
I've heard the voice of God.’
On him who there in anguish lay,
Then kindly said, with holy smile,
‘Hebrew, arise and go thy way!’
As forth into the world that hour,
With footsteps light, the Hebrew trod,
‘I've felt,’ he cried, ‘the Almighty's power,
I've heard the voice of God.’
166
YOUTH AND OLD AGE.
Old age came down the steep of years,
Beneath life's burden bending;
With tottering steps he feebly trod,
And breathing sighs and prayers to God,
He met with youth ascending.
Beneath life's burden bending;
With tottering steps he feebly trod,
And breathing sighs and prayers to God,
He met with youth ascending.
‘Ah, whither dost thou bend thy course?’
Said he whose head was hoary—
‘I go,’ said youth, ‘to yonder heighth,
Where through long vistas, glancing bright
Are Honor, Wealth, and Glory.
Said he whose head was hoary—
‘I go,’ said youth, ‘to yonder heighth,
Where through long vistas, glancing bright
Are Honor, Wealth, and Glory.
‘Be not deceived,’ old age replied,
‘In vain will be thy toiling;
I long have chased those beaming joys,
Oft grasp'd them, but the fleeting toys
Were from me still recoiling.’
‘In vain will be thy toiling;
I long have chased those beaming joys,
Oft grasp'd them, but the fleeting toys
Were from me still recoiling.’
Youth raised his eyes and look'd ahead;
The prospect still was bright—
‘I must go on, prevent me not,
For yonder is a sunny spot,
That promiseth delight.’
The prospect still was bright—
‘I must go on, prevent me not,
For yonder is a sunny spot,
That promiseth delight.’
With joyous bound, he onward went,
His eager course to keep,
And, hope still sparkling in his eyes,
Towards yonder sunny spot he flies,
And struggles up the steep.
His eager course to keep,
And, hope still sparkling in his eyes,
Towards yonder sunny spot he flies,
And struggles up the steep.
| [Poems by Smith in] The native poets of Maine | |