 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
GARFIELD'S BURIAL-DAY.
We mourn with you, dear country, our leader and our friend;
We join the long procession, we mourn as we ascend! ...
And heartbeats tolled through silence—a muffled funeral sound—
As up the shadowy hillside that solemn day we wound.
We join the long procession, we mourn as we ascend! ...
And heartbeats tolled through silence—a muffled funeral sound—
As up the shadowy hillside that solemn day we wound.
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We left warm earth behind us, the valley and the vine;
We passed through spectral forests, dim ghosts of fir and pine;
Out of gray desolation that chilled the blood like death,
We entered clearer azure, we breathed a purer breath.
We passed through spectral forests, dim ghosts of fir and pine;
Out of gray desolation that chilled the blood like death,
We entered clearer azure, we breathed a purer breath.
The great New England mountains, the tallest of their clan,
Stood purple-robed around us; the presence of a man—
The man we mourned—loomed vaster than any loftiest peak
Uprising from the lowlands unclouded light to seek.
Stood purple-robed around us; the presence of a man—
The man we mourned—loomed vaster than any loftiest peak
Uprising from the lowlands unclouded light to seek.
Yet see, where far above us, a life escaped its shroud,
Yon pale, scarred summit rises out of a sunset-cloud
Woven of snow and crimson! and proudly, lightly now
The new moon hangs her crescent on that transfigured brow!
Yon pale, scarred summit rises out of a sunset-cloud
Woven of snow and crimson! and proudly, lightly now
The new moon hangs her crescent on that transfigured brow!
Our martyr, crowned with honor, we saw uplifted stand,
His monument his manhood, the glory of the land.
Are not great men as mountains, that in themselves aspire
From their own baser levels toward heaven's baptismal fire?
His monument his manhood, the glory of the land.
Are not great men as mountains, that in themselves aspire
From their own baser levels toward heaven's baptismal fire?
“Men should be more than mountains in grandeur—and they are!”
We said, as gazing downward around us, near and far,
We saw a world of summits touched with that sunset flame,
And greeted, high among them, the peak that bears his name.
We said, as gazing downward around us, near and far,
We saw a world of summits touched with that sunset flame,
And greeted, high among them, the peak that bears his name.
Night, beautiful with visions, folded the hills around;
We slept and woke. What splendor streams through the blue profound?
What hero spirit beckons from unknown heights afar,
More glorious than Orion, bright as the morning star?
We slept and woke. What splendor streams through the blue profound?
What hero spirit beckons from unknown heights afar,
More glorious than Orion, bright as the morning star?
We cried, “Look up, dear country! ah, lift thee, widowed brow!
As he has borne the earthly, he wears the heavenly now!
The cruel blow that pierced him has raised him to the sky;
Behold the starry manhood that lives, and cannot die!”
As he has borne the earthly, he wears the heavenly now!
The cruel blow that pierced him has raised him to the sky;
Behold the starry manhood that lives, and cannot die!”
Ascending Mount Washington, N. H., September 26, 1881.
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |