 | Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems |  |
14.
And who would credit, standing there,
Where now the stately mansions rise,
And Temple turrets stud the air,
Painting their tall heads on the skies,
And “merchant princes” throng the way,
And Fashion flaunts her rich array,—
That there, two hundred years ago,
Lowly and lone one Cottage rose?
Like plant that could in desert grow,
Or hermit holding men as foes;—
For not a dwelling was in sight;
Above it was the bleak Hill's height,
And sweeping down the old trees stood—
The north was all a thick, dark wood,
Shadowing the lowly Cottage eaves,
And raining there the Autumn leaves.
—'T is peopled now by silent men,
And graves are thick as trees were then.
There sleep the parents of the Sage
Who beckoned lightning from the sky,
And left his impress on an age—
The Franklin, who will never die.
Where now the stately mansions rise,
And Temple turrets stud the air,
Painting their tall heads on the skies,
And “merchant princes” throng the way,
And Fashion flaunts her rich array,—
56
Lowly and lone one Cottage rose?
Like plant that could in desert grow,
Or hermit holding men as foes;—
For not a dwelling was in sight;
Above it was the bleak Hill's height,
And sweeping down the old trees stood—
The north was all a thick, dark wood,
Shadowing the lowly Cottage eaves,
And raining there the Autumn leaves.
—'T is peopled now by silent men,
And graves are thick as trees were then.
There sleep the parents of the Sage
Who beckoned lightning from the sky,
And left his impress on an age—
The Franklin, who will never die.
And while those garden-graves you see,
Where shrub has ta'en the place of tree;
The holy, shadowed resting-place,
Where garnered lies the precious dust
Of those who led the Pilgrim race,
And stamped their motto—“Try and Trust!”
—Then think how strong the Soul can be—
And through what perils Men have trod,
Who held one purpose—to be free;
One faith—the Bible faith in God.
Where shrub has ta'en the place of tree;
57
Where garnered lies the precious dust
Of those who led the Pilgrim race,
And stamped their motto—“Try and Trust!”
—Then think how strong the Soul can be—
And through what perils Men have trod,
Who held one purpose—to be free;
One faith—the Bible faith in God.
| Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems | |