At Sunset :: :: University of Virginia Library

OCCASIONAL POEMS

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Through the dim pageant of the years
A wondrous tracery appears:
A cabin of the western wild
Shelters in sleep a new-born child.

Nor nurse, nor parent dear can know
The way those infant feet must go;
And yet a nation's help and hope
Are sealed within that horoscope.

Beyond is toil for daily bread,
And thought, to noble issues led,
And courage, arming for the morn
For whose behest this man was born.

A man of homely, rustic ways,
Yet he achieves the forum's praise,
And soon earth's highest meed has won,
The seat and sway of Washington.

No throne of honors and delights;
Distrustful days and sleepless nights,

To struggle, suffer, and aspire,
Like Israel, led by cloud and fire.

A treacherous shot, a sob of rest,
A martyr's palm upon his breast,
A welcome from the glorious seat
Where blameless souls of heroes meet;

And, thrilling through unmeasured days,
A song of gratitude and praise;
A cry that all the earth shall heed,
To God, who gave him for our need.

FULTON

A river flashing like a gem,
Crowned with a mountain diadem,
Invites an unaccustomed guest
To launch his shallop on her crest—
A pilgrim whose exploring mind
Must leave his tardy pace behind:
“My bark creeps slow, the world is vast,
How shall its space be overpassed?”

Responsive to his cry appears
A visionary, young in years,
Commissioned with prophetic brain
The mystic problem to explain:
“Where fire and water closest blend,
There find a servant and a friend!”

Yet many a moon must wax and wane,
With sleepless nights and days of pain,
Pleadings a monarch's court before,
Shrewd processes and study sore,

Ere on the silver tide shall float,
Swifter than thought, young Fulton's boat.

And not alone for Hudson's stream
Avails the magic power of steam.
Blessings of unimagined worth
Its speed shall carry round the earth;
Knowledge shall on its pinions fly,
Nor land nor race in darkness lie;

Commerce her hoards shall freely bring
To many an urgent summoning,
And Want and Wealth, in sundered lands,
Shall closely clasp redeeming hands,
While master minds new gospels span,
The holy brotherhood of Man.

Rest, Fulton, in thine honored grave,
Remembered with the wise and brave.
Not wholly dost thou yield to death,
For on the wind blows fiery breath,
And on the wave the solemn tread
Of multitudes o'er ocean led,
And in our grateful hearts a shrine
Of loving memory, all are thine.

And as one sun doth compass all
That can arise, or may befall;

One sentence on Creation's night
Bestowed the blessed boon of light,
So shall all life one promise fill
Of gentle nurture and good will,
While, pledge of Love's assured control,
The Flag of Freedom crowns the pole.

THE CAPITOL

FOR THE FIRST MEETING OF THE AMERICAN ACADEMY OF ARTS AND LETTERS, WASHINGTON, DECEMBER 14–16, 1900

Where shall our nation's temple stand?
Centre of counsel and command;
A Mecca of unfailing faith;
A Zion of unwavering hope;
A fortress that with grim assault
And deadly stratagem may cope;
A Rome that weaves no slavish bond,
But wins allegiance firm and fond.

I see the noble structure rise,
The dome descending from the skies
To lofty station, that the eye
And will of man may aim so high,
While walls of hospitable space
The people's judgment-seat embrace.
Here shall avail the argument
Of just endeavor and intent;
Here shall the widow's prayer be brought,
The orphan's sacred claim be sought;
The heavenly sisterhood of art
Keeping unstained a nation's heart;

An altar for each honest creed,
A court where each just cause may plead,
A sentence of eternal lore
Uttered in whispers heretofore,
But now with silver trump proclaimed
To men and regions newly named,
That right with right may fitly join,
The weal of each for all combine;
No need to snatch, no need to slay,
For a republic's holiday.
The chief who gave our shrine his name
Barred it thenceforth from evil fame.
Upon his laureled tomb doth lie
The pledge of immortality,
For all his way was writ of Fate
In holy footsteps consecrate.

Where the sad spoils of warfare rest
Nirvana sits, a solemn guest,
Safeguard of rule that may not cease,
Sponsor of righteousness and peace.

How shall we overmatch the past
With merits, shaming each the last?
Fast holding each illustrious theft
Old Time has patterned in his weft,
Losing no touch of hero song,
Yielding no step of vanquished wrong,

No conquering grace that marks the line
Where human beauties grow divine.
Let him who stands for service here
With deeply reverent soul draw near,
Intent from every season's youth
To pluck the new commissioned truth;
To lift the weight that most offends,
The need that other needs transcends;
In distant prisons, sad and drear,
The captive's lonely heart to cheer,
And in earth's wildest wastes arouse
The music of the Father's house—
Home for the homeless, priceless rest,
Heaven's seal of promise, dearest, best.

THE MARINER'S DREAM

READ AT CENTRAL PARK AT THE UNVEILING OF THE COLUMBUS STATUE, MAY 12, 1894

Where shall we find the golden key
That opes to peace and liberty?
The earth is full of grievous wars,
The soldier's tread her beauty mars,
The captive's chains are fast and locked,
The poor man by the rich man mocked.
The promise of the Christ we hear,
But who shall bring fulfillment near?

A dream came to a sailor bold,
A happy dream of good untold;
And a little bird sang: “Follow me
Westward, over the unknown sea.
A star shall lead thy chosen band,
And bring thy slender craft to land.
Beyond the waters thou shalt find
Regions of splendor unconfined,
Where giant rivers fruitful flow,
Where birds of tropic plumage glow,
Where the old treasures of thy race
Shall grow and multiply apace.

And ancient Rule renew its health
In a new glorious commonwealth.”
[OMITTED]
The dreamer waking, bowed his head,
And on the wondrous errand sped.
With pleading rare he wrung the gold
From hands reluctant to unfold,
And loosing from old Europe's shore
Sailed westward, westward evermore.

“I hear a whisper in the breeze,
Whispered from forests of strange trees,
From depths of greenery unexplored,
Where sounded ne'er the Christian word.
I may not feed on light-earned bread,
Nor on soft pillow rest my head,
For still my wandering thoughts obey
The mystic voice that calls away.
[OMITTED]
“What though the way be long to find,
Traced dimly in my laboring mind;
Though wild impatience seize my crew,
Distrustful of the venture new;
Should all mankind against me turn,
The haven gained, my wage shall earn,
The yet undowered Future claim
Earth's noblest conquest in my name.”

Oh, man of visions, sorely vexed!
Denied, deserted, and perplexed;
Shamed by rebuke from royal lips,
And Fame and Fortune's sad eclipse,
Thy furrow traced across the sea
The unseen path of destiny.
In thy firm hand the steadfast helm
Steered onward to the magic realm.
And now from out the centuries' maze
Millions of voices sing thy praise,
And hail those conquering footsteps trod,
Inspired of angels, led by God.
[OMITTED]
Here gather we in Gotham town,
Of all our western world the crown,
While ladies fair and gallants gay
Unite to celebrate the day.
But while we list the high discourse,
And while the Pæan has its course,
Let Faith re-consecrate this form,
Adventured once 'gainst sea and storm.

For 't was this hand that held the key,
Unlocking Peace and Liberty.
When all we have and all we are
Hung on the guidance of a star,
And on the answer, dimly guessed
In one resolved, responsive breast.

NEW YORK

She sits beside the ocean,
With a river on either hand,
And all the wealth of waters
By giant girdles spanned.

Like messengers of gladness
The swift sails come and go,
Full-freighted with a promise
The hungry world should know,

Since to Earth's farthest limits
They bear the precious spoil
Wrung from the gold-paved caverns,
Brought from the teeming soil.

Voices of many nations
Make music in the streets,
Their blooded pulses quicken
The heart that steadfast beats.

Brave blood she brought from Britain,
From Holland careful thrift,
And ancient empires taught her
Their wisdom and uplift.

She yields to helpful labor
Its meed and honor fit,
And in her princely mansions
The peasant's son may sit.

God grant our noble city
Forever thus to stand,
A sentinel of freedom,
Guarding a blessed land.

February 14, 1902.

OLD HOME WEEK IN BOSTON

Rome, on her hills of vantage throned,
Gave to the world her strenuous rule.
Isles of the sea her empire owned,
The Nations studied at her school.

Resplendent from her gates went forth
The legions of her proud defence,
And fiery South and frozen North
Did homage to her eminence.

Heroic souls her counsels gave;
Wisdom her sturdy conquests held;
Her towering eagle, fierce and brave,
The tumult of the peoples quelled.

The forest broods a better way
Than the rude clutch of Rapine saw.
Within her walls, to stand for aye,
Was crowned the majesty of Law.

Our City is as nobly set,
Stately her hills, albeit but three,
Glorious about her parapet
Floats the dear Flag of Liberty.

Strong sons, the nurslings of her hearth,
For freedom won the Western plains;
To-day, with happy pride of birth,
They come to show their splendid gains.

Fair towns they builded as they went;
Empires above their footsteps grew;
For Justice stood their armament,
For all th' illustrious truth they knew.

Now, welcome young and welcome old!
Salute with joy each sacred bound!
The cradle of your race behold!
Let the ancestral anthems sound!

And let our Boston, from her heights,
Match with her hills the virtues three,
And crown them, as with beacons bright,
With Faith and Hope and Charity.

LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL

APRIL 19TH, 1875

One hundred years the world hath seen,
Since, bristling on these meadows green,
The British foeman mocked our sires,
New armed beside their household fires.

The troops were hastening from the town
To hold the country for the Crown;
But through the land the ready thrill
Of patriot hearts ran swifter still.

Our Fathers met at break of dawn.
From many a peaceful haunt they come;
From homely task and rustic care,
Marshalled by faith, upheld by prayer.

The winter's wheat was in the ground,
Waiting the April zephyr's sound;
But other growth these fields should bear
When War's wild summons rent the air.

Here flowed the sacrificial blood,
Hence sprang the bond of Brotherhood;

Here rose resolved for good or ill,
The Nation's majesty of will.

Oh Thou who Victor dost remain
Above the slayer and the slain,
Not ill we deem that in Thy might,
That day, our fathers held their right.

They knew not that their ransomed land
To free the vassal'd Earth should stand;
That Thou, through all their toil and pain,
A home of nations didst ordain.

Upon this field of Lexington
We hail the mighty conquest won,
Invoking here Thy mightier name
To keep our heritage from shame.

May peaceful generations turn
To where these ancient glories burn;
And not a lesson of that time
Fade from men's thoughts through wrong and crime.

Beside the hearth let freemen still
Keep their integrity of will,
And meet the treason of the hour
With mind resolved and steadfast power.

But not in arms be our defence;
Give us the strength of innocence,
The will to work, the heart to dare
For Truth's great battle, everywhere.

So may ancestral conquests live
In what we have and what we give;
And the great boons we hold from Thee
Turn to enrich humanity.

A WORD FOR THE MOMENT

THE BOXER REBELLION

I

Art-angel Guido hangs upon my wall
A moving picture of the Tempter's fall.
Michael, bright champion of the heavenly host,
Treads under foot the leader of the lost.

Buskined with light, with faultless weapon armed,
He stands above the prostrate foe, unharmed.
The groveling wretch no counter-blow essays,
Pinned down to earth, in impotent amaze.

This vision, oft encountered, seems to say:
The brute on earth shall never more hold sway;
While, glorious as a seraph from the skies,
Freedom makes good her deathless victories.

II

The legendary fight grows pale
Before me, as I hear the wail
Of men on noble errand sent
And held with murderous intent,
By frantic legions that essay
To stifle Europe in Cathay.

My fancy shows each pallid face,
True lovers, locked in last embrace;
Parents who to their bosoms strain
The babes they guard, but guard in vain.

And as I kneel in prayer, I cry:
Father! send rescue from on high!
The ways of human help are barred;
Be thou, O Lord! their watch and ward!

Alas! alas! their doom is sealed!
No source of succor is revealed.
But still, beyond the bounds of sense,
Prevaileth God's omnipotence.

His seraph messenger may come,
E'en to that fiend-beleaguered home,
And unto those who perish give
A crown denied to those that live.

Ruler of all! to each brave heart
The joy of martyrdom impart!
Upon thy scroll of deathless fame
Write them with those who overcame;

Who, folded in the blessed light
Of Christian faith and Christian right,
Unto the bitter end abode,
Sealed in the armory of God.

1900.

VERSES READ AT THE COOPERSTOWN CENTENNIAL

What village of the western wild
Lifts its far challenge of romance
From forests by the axe unspoiled,
From where the skin-clad sachems dance?

Whose was the note? A bard of old
Held nature subject to his song,
Whose ringing strophes, clear and bold,
The echoes of the world prolong.

So, kindled with poetic fire,
Aspiring from the virgin sod
Came he who, to our heart's desire,
The measure of the Muses trod.

What voice like his the legend taught,
The story of our pilgrim days?
The march with deadly danger fraught,
The heroes ignorant of praise:

The hunter bold, the savage dark,
The breath of regions unprofaned,

The rover with his phantom bark,
The valiant spirits, rudely trained?

Be dear to us this sylvan ground
That holds his ashes in its breast,
While songs of love and praise resound
Above the beauty of his rest.

August, 1907.

HYMN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF RELIGIOUS LIBERALS

HELD IN BOSTON, 1907

Hail! Mount of God, whereon with reverent feet
The messengers of many nations meet;
Diverse in feature, argument, and creed,
One in their errand, brothers in their need.

Not in unwisdom are the limits drawn
That give far lands opposing dusk and dawn;
One sun makes bright the all-pervading air,
One fostering spirit hovers everywhere.

So with one breath may fervent souls aspire,
With one high purpose wait the answering fire.
Be this the prayer that other prayers controls,—
That light divine may visit human souls.

The worm that clothes the monarch spins no flaw,
The coral builder works by heavenly law;
Who would to Conscience rear a temple pure
Must prove each stone and seal it, sound and sure.

Upon one steadfast base of truth we stand,
Love lifts her sheltering walls on either hand;
Arched o'er our head is Hope's transcendent dome,
And in the Father's heart of hearts our home.

KANSAS

Sing us a song of the grand old time,
Of John Brown, martyr, our pioneer.
Tell how, in view of a nation's crime,
We breasted the wilderness, lone and drear.
Bible and rifle in hand we went,
To rear in the desert our flag and tent.

For a wicked bugle note had called
The men who would hold their fellow slave;
When, at its falseness unappalled,
Came forth a company clean and brave,
Unfettered by customs old and ill,
With the freeman's mind and the freeman's will.

Some who started in manhood's bloom
Short time abode and never returned,
But most of us stayed as we found room,
And fairly the Pilgrim's guerdon earned.
With nights of watching and days of toil,
We saved from dishonor a virgin soil.

Firm on our shoulder the Duties sate
That grow with the growth of human kind,

No worship of Fortune, nor creed of Fate,
But the leadership of the well-taught mind.
Where the wild man left but briar and thorn,
We planted the field, and gathered the corn.

And so, we builded our cities fair,
For our fathers' tongue and our fathers' faith.
The church spire hallowed our place of prayer,
The school bell uttered its blessed breath,
And he who crosses our bound shall find
That he leaves no gain of the age behind.

With many a weary task 't was done,
With murder lurking in thicket and grove,
With backs that ached 'neath a burning sun,
With homes that sheltered but thrift and love.
We lightened our labor with speech and song,
And the women worked with us, right along!

Now, half a hundred years have sped
To make the desert a blooming state;
We thank our God for honest bread,
For duteous children and loving mate,
But most, that the Fathers went out to see
The land redeemed for liberty.

THE PLAYHOUSE

READ AT THE CASTLE SQUARE THEATRE, MAY 10, 1905

'T is writ that Troy's wild prophetess
In vision mystical could guess,
When to th' Atrides roof she came,
The story of its deeds of shame—
Before her passed the victims slain,
Glowed at her feet the bloody stain.

But I, approaching this fair scene,
Divine the Joy that here hath been,
Where, each in his enchanted seat,
The lovers of the drama meet,
While Art unfolds the magic page
That charms mankind from age to age.

Here have you read in pictures fair
The lesson of the things that were;
Othello, terrible and brave,
Hamlet, discoursing o'er a grave,
Macbeth with fatal aim pursuing
The deed that ends in his undoing,
And types more modern, strange and rich,
Framed to bewilder and bewitch.

And here for countless days to come,
Shall harmless Pleasure make her home.
Here shall you mark the season's flight
With memories of pure delight,
While Wisdom in each quaint disguise
Your deeper thought shall recognise.
Your plaudits shall the Right uphold,
Your censure shame the villain bold,
Your love enthrone life's greatest good,
The glory of true humanhood.

THE NATION'S HOLIDAY

Our fathers met in grief and gloom,
And as the Tyrant spoke their doom
They answered, “Freedom shall have room.”

Backward, as to a golden store,
They looked to valiant hearts of yore,
Whose might the people's cause up-bore.

And forward, in the skies above,
They saw a heavenly banner move,
Whose virtue they were bound to prove.

For them the Galilean taught
The truth with new deliverance fraught,
And 'neath His martyr flag they fought.

Now as our world stands at a loss,
With all its treasures, all its dross
To match the riches of the Cross,

So, pomp of flags and marches gay
And martial muster and array
Are all too poor to praise this day.

How should we thank for boon so high?
How keep above the things that die
Our holy gift of Liberty?

With duteous heart revere the Past,
Its doctrine and its deeds hold fast,
But know, they should be over-passed.

The harvest that 't is ours to reap
With blood of heroes sown so deep,
A bloodless vigilance shall keep.

Build nobler temples, and enshrine
On the heart's altar pure and fine,
The Brotherhood that is divine.

For our defence throughout the land
The school with open door shall stand,
With truth and love in high command.

[OMITTED]

From us, who meet with one intent,
On due commemoration bent,
Be this fair greeting world-wide sent:

Not for us only did befall
The good we conquered; hear us call
“One freedom and one God for all!”

HYMN FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY

Our fathers built the house of God;
Rough-hewn, with haste its slabs they laid,
The savage man in ambush trod,
And still they worshiped undismayed.

They wrought like stalwart men of war,
Who wrung the state from heathen hands;
Who bore their faith's high banner far,
And in its name possessed the lands.

The skill of strife to peaceful arts,
Their perils over, glad gave way;
The bond of freedom joined men's hearts
More near than meaner compact may.

We, followers of their task and toil,
Inherited their dangers too;
Drove bloody rapine from our soil,
Th' oppressor dared, the murderer slew.

Our heavy work, like theirs, at end;
Returning from the death-won field,
Brother with brother, friend with friend
Again the house of God we build.

Oh! may our ransomed freedom dwell
In truth's own citadel secure;
And blameless guardians foster well
The mystic flame that must endure.

The flame of holy human love,
That makes our liberties divine;
Let each strong arm its champion prove,
And each true heart its deathless shrine.

1865.

THE GLORIOUS FOURTH

Unfurl the flag, ye veterans all,
Respond to the familiar call!
Let Drum and Fife awakened be
For Freedom's glorious Reveillé!

The gathering crowds with haste obey
The joyful summons of the day.
The cannon's rhythmic boom resounds,
The snapping fire toy goes its rounds.

Above the noise, above the sport,
Shall Justice hold her sober court:
“You, people whom this day set free,
What shall you do for liberty?”

“Our friendly harbors open stand,
To hail the ships of every land.
The fainting exile at our door
Finds cheer and welcome evermore.

With the great boon that we have gained
A holy promise is enchained.
Not for ourselves alone we fought,
But for a wide deliverance wrought.

Freedom is in the dauntless heart,
The will t' enact a noble part,
The faith that reads with reverent eyes
A message writ beyond the skies.

While yet on earth one Tyrant wields
The scourge that strips the fertile fields,
While one his iron rule doth fling
O'er men who call their conscience King,
While Right from armed Might must flee,
We are not free, we are not free.

Where sets the Autocrat his seal,
And starving hinds his prowess feel,
Where bleeds the Christian for his cross,
There do we suffer pain and loss.

As in one temple let us kneel
To pray for every nation's weal;
Then speed the messengers of peace
To cry: “The reign of blood must cease.”

THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE

BETWEEN THE BRITISH AND THE BOER ARMIES DECEMBER 25, 1899

At early dawn, one wintry day,
Two armies, oft encountering, lay
Pledged to a fierce and fatal fight,
Each hateful in the other's sight.

Why sounds no more the iron rain
Of missiles, nor the cry of pain?
And why do foemen greeting send
As to a brother, or a friend?

In ancient times of bloody war
Stood portents in the heavens afar,
And cloud-built hosts with seeming rage
Approached each other to engage.

What stood between the foes that day
To keep the battle-fiend away?
What emblem consecrates the morn?
The vision of a Babe new-born,

Foreseen in many a prophet's mind
As the Redeemer of Mankind;

Belov'd, for help that He should bring
To human woe and suffering.

The centuries that lie between
His sacred glory cannot screen.
He bids the bitter conflict cease,
And lifts His infant voice for peace.

Oh! Babe adored! What passions wild
Are stilled before that little Child
Whose gentle Mother shall become
The guardian spirit of the home!

His two small hands are stretched in love
The sanguinary fields above.
“Oh! harm each other not!” He cries.
“Henceforth encounter brotherwise.”

Thus He who lived and died for all
Announced His holy festival,
And so th' opposing armies lay
At peace on blessed Christmas Day.

THE MESSAGE OF PEACE

WRITTEN FOR CHILDREN

Bid the din of battle cease!
Folded be the wings of fire!
Let your courage conquer peace,—
Every gentle heart's desire.

Let the crimson flood retreat!
Blended in the arc of love,
Let the flags of nations meet;
Bind the raven, loose the dove.

At the altar that we raise
King and Kaiser may bow down;
Warrior-knights above their bays
Wear the sacred olive crown.

Blinding passion is subdued,
Men discern their common birth,
God hath made of kindred blood
All the peoples of the earth.

High and holy are the gifts
He has lavished on the race,—

Hope that quickens, prayer that lifts,
Honor's meed, and beauty's grace.

As in Heaven's bright face we look
Let our kindling souls expand;
Let us pledge, on nature's book,
Heart to heart and hand to hand.

For the glory that we saw
In the battle-flag unfurled,
Let us read Christ's better law:
Fellowship for all the world!

1899.

AFTER THE CONVENTION

Soft I hear the church bell tolling in the distance clear and warm,
Standing thought-bound in the hollow of my little Portsmouth farm.
I to church would not be going, here is church enough for me,
Let my ducks and geese give sermon and my brook make symphony.

What, profane one? art thou turning from the altar, from the creed?
Can the trees impress thy conscience and the bushes help thy need?
Oh! I come from days of talking, full of reasons long drawn out.
Now, God's minister of silence comes to compass me about.

My remembrance of the women! from the forehead crowned in white
Through the shadows brown and chestnut, to youth's tingling bloom and light;

And the thoughtful words they uttered, bright with fancy, fond with faith,
Firm with sober sense and resting upon truths that conquer death.

But not alien to that meeting is this cluster of my trees,
Where I pick the fallen apple and attend the rustling breeze;
And the nuts are not yet gathered. Oh! the boys have need of them,
Feast thou only on the mirror pond and dazzling diadem!

They are praying as they stand there, not in doubt and not in fear,
Winter showing in the distance that shall make their beauty drear;
They endure with stern composure all the shifting of the sun,
Sighing oft the woman's whisper—let the will of God be done!

No! an impulse stolen from summer lights them up before mine eyes
As its lovely Indian changeling wafts a thought of Paradise.

In the change of things diurnal they discern the changeless law,
And great life's eternal gospel thrills their heart with sudden awe.

For that mighty truth gives freedom, far beyond the buds of spring,
And the swelling fruit of summer, and the autumn's gathering.
To the parent soul unswerving all things bud and blossom on,
And the summer's good departs not when the summer's breath is gone.

So the maple flushes fervent, looking up to Heaven's blue ken,
So the purple ash beside her breathes its soberer Amen.
And the yellow oaks in copses, with a logic of their own,
Link the litany of autumn in a mellow monotone.

Days may perish, life endureth—in the winter harsh and rude
May decline our outward beauty, not our inner power and word,
Spring shall bring us new rejoicing, autumn crown us where we stand,

When our cycles shall be numbered, still our seed shall keep the land.

What the autumn trees can pray for? What the elder women say;
Straight from Thee our being cometh, Thou who livest now and aye.
Let us hold the precious essence, like pure vases void of blame,
Handing down its sweet conditions to the things that keep our name.

But the law of life is progress; as the forests bloom and grow,
So the fortunes of great womankind in onward sweep we know.
Grant us faith to gifts imparted in the viewing of the sun,
Faithful fruitage, true transmission, and the will of God is done!

Evidently written many years ago, and never revised.

THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE

Th' assembled crowd of subjects wait
The passing of a car of state
With mounted guard and herald quaint,
With ermined peer and mitred saint.

Right royally the coursers prance,
The sovereign, glittering to the glance
With priceless gems of every clime,
Moves on with bell and trumpet chime.

Why does the splendid pageant stand
Arrested by a waving hand?
An antic steed with murderous feet
O'erthrows an urchin of the street.

The Empress of as proud a realm
As e'er saw statesman at its helm,
Commands the pause, that she may know
What harm o'ertook that stripling low.

Where dwells the grace that fits a queen?
In bearing haughty or serene?
In lofty attitude of mind?
In pomps that dazzle humankind?

The queenliest action of that day
When cheering thousands marked her way,
Was that which showed how simply good
Was the great lady's womanhood.

1897.

DECORATION DAY

Earth from her winter slumber breaks;
The morning of the year awakes.
The vital warmth that buried lay
Transcends again its house of clay,
And to the greeting of the skies
With thrilling harmony replies.

A promise breathes from every furrow:
“Dark yesterday makes bright to-morrow.
Pursue no more the midnight oil;
The sunlight measures cheer and toil;
The winds proclaim, with odorous breath,
The life that triumphs over death.”

Yet vanished days of many a year
Remain to us possessions dear;
We call the roll of those who dared;
We bless the saints who hardly fared,
Lending their martyred flesh to be
The torchlight of Truth's victory.

Still may we utter solemn praise
Of those whose prowess filled their days

With thoughts and deeds of high renown,
Which now our floral offerings crown.
But as our earth from south to north
Her glorious promise blazons forth,
And timid spring and summer bold
On autumn pour their wealth of gold,

So let our buried heroes live
In hands that freely guard and give,
In minds that, watchful, entertain
Great thoughts of Justice and her reign,
That tend, all other tasks above,
The household fires of faith and love,
And keep our banner, wide unfurled,
A pledge of blessing to the world.

1908.

DECORATION DAY

SCHOOL AT WELLESLEY HILLS

Sad festival, thy name recalls
The faces pictured on our walls,
The valiant hearts that many a year
Are wanting to the household cheer.

A shape went forth on bounding foot,
Returned, a prisoner dread and mute;
The blood that in its veins did leap
Stained the pale marble of its sleep.

Tears followed on those days of doom,
And garlands for the hero's tomb;
That fount of grief has never dried,
Those garlands never are denied.

Of years a score have nearly passed
Since our war bugle blew its last.
Where steel met steel for bitter loss,
The threads of reconcilement cross.

The brothers who were sundered then
The bond of kindred own again.
And South and North, and East and West,
One life thrills in one nation's breast.

Forever blessed be their name,
Forever sacred be their claim
Who fought for that heroic tie,
Who fell for Freedom's family.

Fair maids who here secluded wait
On Duty throned in Training's state,
This day to you a lesson bears
More weighty than the schoolroom's cares.

Yours is the motherhood of men,
The priesthood of life's deepened ken.
Oh! may all words of sages rise,
All poets' songs of many skies,
Teach you a wisdom deep and true,
A virtue brave, a music new.

To you Columbia fondly looks.
Informed with diagrams and books,
She sees you, steadfast, climb the hill,
Your urns from silvery fountains fill,

And, linking soft a silken band,
She lays the clasp within your hand,
And says: “Your task must never cease;
Aid noble men to keep God's peace.”

THE DEPARTING CENTURY

I was baptized in blood, and saw the light
When wrong paraded in the garb of right,
When dreams of poet and of ancient sage,
Illumining the world's confusèd page,
Were crossed with sanguine horror, guilt whose shame
Did blot the nobler with the baser name.
War's furious pulses coursed within my veins
While dear my spirit held enfranchised plains
Where heavenly peace, whom savage discords wound,
'Twixt plant and plough a refuge calm had found.

In sooth no common destiny was mine,
Truth's oracles my wisdom did divine.
Life's faded flag, in heroes' heart's blood dyed,
I raised and floated, ever to abide
Where cloud nor mist nor armament should hide.

The mellow beauty of my afternoon
Provoked the prophet's word, the poet's rune,

And sun did never set so grand and free
As mine, in gold and crimson blazonry.

Above my ashes do not celebrate
The contests blind of old imagined Fate.
Build me enduring monuments of stone,
But no uncertain message write thereon.

Conceived in Doubt, engendered of Despair,
Pledged to all deeds that men may dream and dare,
I moved unfaltering to the solemn height
Where warring rainbows meet in perfect light.
Truth was my guest, belief in her my power,
And of such good transcendent was my dower
That I shall live in memory and in Fame
As long as man his manhood's meed may claim;
Beloved for fetters loosed, for veils unbound,
For God's great word, by God's great order crowned.

Copied Oct. 14th, 1901. All this rushed into my mind one afternoon when I lay down to take my half-hour's rest. This I was forced to abbreviate in order to record the lines above. They are very rough. I wish I could improve them.