Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Brother, I've taken pen in hand,
Your thoughts a moment to command;
Tho' Alleghanies 'twixt us stand,
Yet in the heart,
Despite wide-intervening land,
We 're not apart.

Here in the valley of the stream
Which first inspired ideal dream,
Which kindled the poetic gleam
Around my ways,
Which taught my youthful muse to teem
Imperfect lays—

Whose rural beauties charm my eye
More than a city's blazonry,
And which I pray until I die
May charm me still—
At present in retreat I lie,
And bide your will.

I love my dear, my native soil;
I love her hardy sons of toil;
From civil strife and foreign broil
May Heaven keep her!
May no accursed party coil
In fury sweep her!

To me this life is not more dear
Than her eternal hills that rear
Their heads, and from afar appear
In grandeur high—
Than her deep lore that fills my ear—
Her light, my eye!

But yet, with all the light we boast,
Brother, believe me, there 's a host
That darken yet New-England's coast,
Mad-groping, blind;
They are not fools, and yet almost
For fools designed.

I'll prove the truth of my remark,
How some here wander in the dark
Without a glimmer or a spark
Of Reason's light;
And know but just like dogs to bark
At what they spite:

You know the wisdom of the age,
How certain meddlers would engage

In wars that wise ones will not wage,
And wild schemes plot,
And vent their blind and zealous rage
Where they should not.

I know it, too, and took a verse
From Scripture Proverbs for discourse,
And one that touches on the curse
Of which I write;
And wrote, “for better or for worse,”
In black and white.

My sentiments I boldly told,
(Tho' in a modest manner bold,)
And in my weakness did unfold
What in my view
Are evils worthy of a scold,
The country through.

Heedless of either friends or foes—
Unasked by these, unawed by those,
I gave the public what I chose—
The message sped;
And as you rightly may suppose
The thing was read.

These were my thoughts when it was done:
Now should the coat fit any one
I'm willing he should put it on
If so he will;
And, surely 't is the sick alone
That need the pill.

And so it proved; the sick I found
Rose in delirium around,

And many, too, within the bound
Of an hour's walk;
Their ravings in my ear did sound
Like crazy talk.

One, hobbling on a Bible crutch,
Said I had grieved his feelings much;
The consequent effect was such
On his weak parts,
He knew that I had aimed to touch
Him with my darts.

Perhaps, now, you would like to know
What set the cripple thinking so;
I fain would keep it back—but no!
Truth is the word;
And yet I blush to see it go,
'T is so absurd!—

On ranting sects a word I dealt,
And spoke exactly as I felt,
That “some in strange devotion knelt.”—
Hide, god of day!
'T was this made Cripple's reason melt—
He kneels to pray!

Well, others called me infidel,
Because I dared the truth to tell:
And while they fain would ring the knell
For Opposition,
'Tis Ignorance I would impel
To abolition.

Tho' I 've not told the half I might,
If it do n't argue want of light,
Then I'm not surely in the right;
And if I err,

May I wing Wisdom in her flight—
The dear stranger!

There is a link binds soul to soul,
Tho' sundered far as pole from pole;
Not word of kings, not proud controul
That link can sever;
As long 's the “silver cord” be whole,
'T is firm as ever.

That chain around ourselves is thrown;
On me its influence I own,
And often, silent and alone,
I feel it bind,
And all our joys, in days by-gone,
Come fresh to mind.

Ah, yes! those days have flown away
Since hand in hand we used to stray
Along the walks of infancy;
And later yet,
How we have spent the youthful day
Can you forget?

How from our dear home self-exiled
On life's broad highway we have toiled,
And one another's cares beguiled
With ready cheer?
If one would weep, the other smiled
To quell the tear.

But manhood opens to your way;
Another, innocently gay,
Will now the fancied ills allay
Of careful life;
May Heaven's watchful eye, I pray,
Attend your wife.

Now as the voyage of life start
May wise discretion be your chart,
And for a compass your own heart
Has giv'n it you;
And like the needle may your part
Be ever true!

May Death full long forget the knife
To part you from your tender wife;
And may you sail secure from strife
Down sunny stream,
And with the fairest breeze of life
Abaft the beam.

And when you launch upon that sea
That rolls in deep eternity,
Oh, blissful may your landing be
On pleasant shore!
And then may Heaven welcome thee,
And evermore!

Vide the article alluded to—Proverbs xx, 3. The SERMON and the effect it produced are hinted at in the “Addenda” to the Review, in this volume.