 | The poetical works of John Greenleaf Whittier |  |
“Glad prophecy! to this at last,”
The Reader said, “shall all things come.
Forgotten be the bugle's blast,
And battle-music of the drum.
A little while the world may run
Its old mad way, with needle-gun
And iron-clad, but truth, at last, shall reign:
The cradle-song of Christ was never sung in vain!”
The Reader said, “shall all things come.
Forgotten be the bugle's blast,
And battle-music of the drum.
271
Its old mad way, with needle-gun
And iron-clad, but truth, at last, shall reign:
The cradle-song of Christ was never sung in vain!”
Shifting his scattered papers, “Here,”
He said, as died the faint applause,
“Is something that I found last year
Down on the island known as Orr's.
I had it from a fair-haired girl
Who, oddly, bore the name of Pearl,
(As if by some droll freak of circumstance,)
Classic, or wellnigh so, in Harriet Stowe's romance.”
He said, as died the faint applause,
“Is something that I found last year
Down on the island known as Orr's.
I had it from a fair-haired girl
Who, oddly, bore the name of Pearl,
(As if by some droll freak of circumstance,)
Classic, or wellnigh so, in Harriet Stowe's romance.”
| The poetical works of John Greenleaf Whittier | |