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45
CONVERSE WITH AUGUST.
It would be interesting, to some one who had nothing else to do, if he would audit up the months of the year, and of all years, and learn which had produced the most distinguished people. Perhaps the result might even have a scientific value.
I happened to write this in August, and used such material as came to my mind: but could with a little research and patience with myself, have extended the poem into several pages more. And even then, the record might be surpassed by other months.
August—August—stormy or fair!What do you bring in your sultry air?
Tender mornings and starlit skies—
Golden clouds with the glad sunrise;
Cooling zephyrs and stifling heats—
Thunders rolling in lofty streets;
Lightning aiming at towers and trees—
Chill rains dripping from floating seas.
August—August—stormy or fair!
What have you seen men do and dare?—
Oh, it was on my third bright day,
Gallant Columbus marked his way
Far to the empire yet to be,
Out where the sunset kissed the sea:
He had no nation when all was done,
But he had found a place for one.
August, August, stormy or fair,
When did you give the world despair?—
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Told that a Bonaparte was born:
One that would swim Ambition's flood—
One that would drench the earth with blood:
Yet with his sword would cut in twain
Many a petty tyrant's chain.
August, August, stormy or fair,
When did a wizard stroke your hair?—
Once, when my days were half way through,
Came a child from the far-off blue—
Soon to cover with laurels grand,
All the hills of his fatherland.
That was the Scottish Walter Scott:
Never his name will be forgot!
August, August, stormy or fair,
What have you more that is sweet and rare?—
Millions of babies: born to bless
This great land in its comeliness,
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Making their coming into a curse.
Will their staying be ill, or well?—
God and the world will some time tell.
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