 | The poems and stories of Fitz-James O'Brien |  |
X.
Up in a wild Californian Hill,
Where the torrents swept with a mighty will,
And the grandeur of nature filled the air,
And the cliffs were lofty, rugged, and bare,
Some thousands of lusty fellows she saw
Obeying the first great natural law.
From the mountain's side they had scooped the earth
Down to the veins where the gold had birth,
And the mighty pits they had girdled about
With ramparts massive, and wide, and stout;
And they curbed the torrents, and swept them round
Wheresoever they willed, through virgin ground.
They rocked huge cradles the livelong day,
And shovelled the heavy, tenacious clay,
And grasped the nugget of gleaming ore,
The sinew of commerce on every shore.
Their beards were rough and their eyes were bright,
For their labor was healthy, their hearts were light;
And the kings and princes of distant lands
Blessed the work of their stalwart hands.
Where the torrents swept with a mighty will,
And the grandeur of nature filled the air,
And the cliffs were lofty, rugged, and bare,
Some thousands of lusty fellows she saw
Obeying the first great natural law.
From the mountain's side they had scooped the earth
Down to the veins where the gold had birth,
And the mighty pits they had girdled about
With ramparts massive, and wide, and stout;
And they curbed the torrents, and swept them round
Wheresoever they willed, through virgin ground.
They rocked huge cradles the livelong day,
And shovelled the heavy, tenacious clay,
And grasped the nugget of gleaming ore,
The sinew of commerce on every shore.
Their beards were rough and their eyes were bright,
For their labor was healthy, their hearts were light;
And the kings and princes of distant lands
Blessed the work of their stalwart hands.
Then high o'er the shovel's and pickaxe's clang
Loudly the song of the Sewing Bird rang:—
“See, see, see, see!
This is the place where MEN should be!”
And he soared once more through the boundless air,
While the work-girl followed him, wondering where.
Loudly the song of the Sewing Bird rang:—
97
This is the place where MEN should be!”
And he soared once more through the boundless air,
While the work-girl followed him, wondering where.
| The poems and stories of Fitz-James O'Brien | |