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39
RIDING TO VOTE.
THE OLD DEMOCRAT IN THE WEST.
Yonder the bleak old Tavern stands—the faded sign before,
That years ago a setting sun and banded harvest bore:
The Tavern stands the same to-day—the sign you look upon
Has glintings of the dazzled sheaves, but nothing of the sun.
That years ago a setting sun and banded harvest bore:
The Tavern stands the same to-day—the sign you look upon
Has glintings of the dazzled sheaves, but nothing of the sun.
In Jackson's days a gay young man, with spirit hale and blithe,
And form like the young hickory, so tough and tall and lithe,
I first remember coming up—we came a wagon-load,
A dozen for Old Hickory—this rough November road.
And form like the young hickory, so tough and tall and lithe,
I first remember coming up—we came a wagon-load,
A dozen for Old Hickory—this rough November road.
40
Ah! forty years—they help a man, you see, in getting gray;
They can not take the manly soul, that makes a man, away!
It's forty years, or near: to-day I go to vote once more;
Here, half a mile away, we see the crowd about the door.
They can not take the manly soul, that makes a man, away!
It's forty years, or near: to-day I go to vote once more;
Here, half a mile away, we see the crowd about the door.
My boys, in Eighteen Sixty—what! my boys? my men, I mean!
(No better men nor braver souls in flesh-and-blood are seen!)
One twenty-six, one twenty-three, rode with their father then:
The ballot-box remembers theirs—my vote I'll try again!
(No better men nor braver souls in flesh-and-blood are seen!)
One twenty-six, one twenty-three, rode with their father then:
The ballot-box remembers theirs—my vote I'll try again!
The ballot-box remembers theirs, the country well might know—
Though in a million only two for little seem to go;
But, somehow, when my ticket slipp'd I dream'd of Jackson's day:
The land, I thought, has need of One whose will will find a way!
Though in a million only two for little seem to go;
But, somehow, when my ticket slipp'd I dream'd of Jackson's day:
The land, I thought, has need of One whose will will find a way!
41
‘He did not waver when the need had call'd for steadfast thought—
The word he spoke made plain the deed that lay behind it wrought;”
And while I mused the Present fell, and, breathing back the Past,
Again it seem'd the hale young man his vote for Jackson cast!
The word he spoke made plain the deed that lay behind it wrought;”
And while I mused the Present fell, and, breathing back the Past,
Again it seem'd the hale young man his vote for Jackson cast!
Thank God it was not lost!—my vote I did not cast in vain!
I go alone to drop my vote—the glorious vote again;
Alone—where three together fell but one to-day shall fall;
But though I go alone to-day, one voice shall speak for all!
I go alone to drop my vote—the glorious vote again;
Alone—where three together fell but one to-day shall fall;
But though I go alone to-day, one voice shall speak for all!
For when our men, awaking quick, from hearth and threshold came,
Mine did not say, “Another day!” but started like a flame;
I 'll vote for them as well as me; they died as soldiers can,
But in my vote their voices each shall claim the right of man.
Mine did not say, “Another day!” but started like a flame;
I 'll vote for them as well as me; they died as soldiers can,
But in my vote their voices each shall claim the right of man.
42
The elder left his wife and child—my vote for these shall tell;
The younger's sweet-heart has a claim—I'll vote for her as well!
Yes! for the myriad speechless tongues, the myriad offer'd lives,
The desolation at the heart of orphans and of wives!
The younger's sweet-heart has a claim—I'll vote for her as well!
Yes! for the myriad speechless tongues, the myriad offer'd lives,
The desolation at the heart of orphans and of wives!
I go to give my vote alone—I curse your shameless shame
Who fight for traitors here at home in Peace's holy name!
I go to give my vote alone, but even while I do,
I vote for dead and living, all—the living dead and you!
Who fight for traitors here at home in Peace's holy name!
I go to give my vote alone, but even while I do,
I vote for dead and living, all—the living dead and you!
See yonder tree beside the field, caught in the sudden sough,
How conscious of its strength it leans, how straight and steadfast now!
If Lincoln bends (for all, through him, my vote I mean to cast)—
What winds have blown! what storms he's known! the hickory's straight at last!
How conscious of its strength it leans, how straight and steadfast now!
If Lincoln bends (for all, through him, my vote I mean to cast)—
What winds have blown! what storms he's known! the hickory's straight at last!
November, 1864.
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