Poems of home and country Also, Sacred and Miscellaneous Verse |
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Part II.
POEMS OF COUNTRY.
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 | Poems of home and country |  |
2.
Part II.
POEMS OF COUNTRY.
77
AMERICA.
[_]
Written February, A.D. 1832, and first sung at a Fourth of July Celebration at Boston, the same year.
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet Freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake,
Let all that breathe partake,
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.
And ring from all the trees
Sweet Freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake,
Let all that breathe partake,
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.
78
Our fathers' God, to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright
With Freedom's holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King.
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright
With Freedom's holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King.
79
SCHOOLS AND SCHOLARS.
SENTIMENTAL.
THE SEAL ONCE LAID ON PLIANT WAX.
ADDRESSED TO A TEACHER.
The seal, once laid on pliant wax,Stamps its own image, cancelled never;
The teacher's lineaments on the soul
Their vivid impress leave forever.
Lay careful hand on head and heart
While waits the youth at life's fair portal;
So shall your work, in beauty wrought,
Be beauty, stamped with life immortal.
NOTHING WITHOUT EFFORT.
Some nice things, you think, can be done without toil,
As weeds grow, untilled, from the generous soil;
You guess men in black, with the cheerfullest air,
Eat bread without work, and live without care;
So happy they float, like clouds in the blue,
You think, very likely, they 've nothing to do
But to read pleasant books and court life with the Muses,
While the hand of the workman is sore his bruises.
But no farmer grows rich who sets up for a shirk,
Nor merchant, whose aim is to live without work;
There is labor more wearing than digging a drain,—
Oh, that some men would try it,—'t is work with the brain!
As weeds grow, untilled, from the generous soil;
You guess men in black, with the cheerfullest air,
Eat bread without work, and live without care;
So happy they float, like clouds in the blue,
You think, very likely, they 've nothing to do
80
While the hand of the workman is sore his bruises.
But no farmer grows rich who sets up for a shirk,
Nor merchant, whose aim is to live without work;
There is labor more wearing than digging a drain,—
Oh, that some men would try it,—'t is work with the brain!
I'll tell you a secret,—the song of the poet
Springs not with a gush before one can know it,
As breaks from the fountain the tinkling rill
And flows from the side to the foot of the hill.
The thought, born to shine in his beautiful strain,
Lies, like gems to be cut, in the depth of his brain;
But to clothe it with beauty, to point it with wit,
To fit to each line a shaft that will hit,—
To gather the glories, his lay to enfold,
From earth, air, and sea, from the crimson and gold,
That glow in the path of the opening day,
Or burnish the sky as the light fades away,—
Is never the work of a glance and a dash,
As the fluid-electric shoots out with a flash;—
The search for a jingle, the chase for a rhyme,
Is a toil to the brain, and the labor of time.
As a steamer,—the monster,—caught fast in the narrows,
Or striving, in summer, to pass over shallows,
Drives fierce on her pathway, ascending the stream,
But is forced to fall back with a shock and a scream,
To try a fresh channel, to make a new tack,
Still foiled in her efforts, still doomed to push back,
Till at last, as if borne by a freak of good chance,
She floats o'er the shoal, and shoots, with a glance,
To the sea of deep water, and glides through the tide,
Where balmy winds kiss her, and navies might ride,—
So, often, the poet, intent on his chime,
Seeks, earnest, to match some choice word with a rhyme;
But bootless his efforts,—his search all in vain,—
He backs off from the shallow and tries a new strain,
Gives up the dear word on which swung his fine thought,
Abandons the rhyme, long chased, but ne'er caught,
Creeps back through the shallows,—recasts his whole plan,
And, foiled where he wishes, he sails where he can,
Then floats, proud in success, o'er the glorious main,
Till the rhyme-search shall ground him in shallows again.
O wisdom of Virgil!—the bard of the ages,—
A wisdom well worthy of prophets and sages,
No genius, untoiling, to glory is whirled;
“A line in a day” brings the praise of the world.
Springs not with a gush before one can know it,
As breaks from the fountain the tinkling rill
And flows from the side to the foot of the hill.
The thought, born to shine in his beautiful strain,
Lies, like gems to be cut, in the depth of his brain;
But to clothe it with beauty, to point it with wit,
To fit to each line a shaft that will hit,—
To gather the glories, his lay to enfold,
From earth, air, and sea, from the crimson and gold,
That glow in the path of the opening day,
Or burnish the sky as the light fades away,—
Is never the work of a glance and a dash,
As the fluid-electric shoots out with a flash;—
The search for a jingle, the chase for a rhyme,
Is a toil to the brain, and the labor of time.
As a steamer,—the monster,—caught fast in the narrows,
Or striving, in summer, to pass over shallows,
Drives fierce on her pathway, ascending the stream,
But is forced to fall back with a shock and a scream,
To try a fresh channel, to make a new tack,
Still foiled in her efforts, still doomed to push back,
Till at last, as if borne by a freak of good chance,
She floats o'er the shoal, and shoots, with a glance,
81
Where balmy winds kiss her, and navies might ride,—
So, often, the poet, intent on his chime,
Seeks, earnest, to match some choice word with a rhyme;
But bootless his efforts,—his search all in vain,—
He backs off from the shallow and tries a new strain,
Gives up the dear word on which swung his fine thought,
Abandons the rhyme, long chased, but ne'er caught,
Creeps back through the shallows,—recasts his whole plan,
And, foiled where he wishes, he sails where he can,
Then floats, proud in success, o'er the glorious main,
Till the rhyme-search shall ground him in shallows again.
O wisdom of Virgil!—the bard of the ages,—
A wisdom well worthy of prophets and sages,
No genius, untoiling, to glory is whirled;
“A line in a day” brings the praise of the world.
WHERE ARE THE BOYS OF EARLIER YEARS?
“THE BOYS.”
Where are the boys of earlier years.
Once known and loved so well?
Where childhood's hopes and childhood's fears,
O Muse of history, tell?
Once known and loved so well?
Where childhood's hopes and childhood's fears,
O Muse of history, tell?
82
Where are the noisy shouts that spoke
In wild joy on the air?
Where are the lips, in love which spoke—
The echoes answer, Where?
In wild joy on the air?
Where are the lips, in love which spoke—
The echoes answer, Where?
Where are the ready eye and hand
That made our greetings sweet?
Parted long since,—the choice old band,—
Where will they ever meet?
That made our greetings sweet?
Parted long since,—the choice old band,—
Where will they ever meet?
Where are they? Ask the manly face,
White hairs, and furrowed brow;
The veterans, with their antique grace—
The boys are elders now.
White hairs, and furrowed brow;
The veterans, with their antique grace—
The boys are elders now.
Roll back, roll back Life's hastening tide,
Nor count each passing year;
Behold, their bows in strength abide,
The ancient boys are here!
Nor count each passing year;
Behold, their bows in strength abide,
The ancient boys are here!
THE LADY AND THE POET.
I have read of a poet whose minstrelsy woke
The spirit of music in beautiful Spain;
He was urged by a lady, not quite to his taste,
To write her a sonnet,—nor urged she in vain.
The spirit of music in beautiful Spain;
He was urged by a lady, not quite to his taste,
To write her a sonnet,—nor urged she in vain.
In the noble Castilian 't were easy to write,
From a madrigal down to a funeral knell;
So this son of the Muses proceeded to draw
The sonnet she claimed from his murmuring shell.
From a madrigal down to a funeral knell;
So this son of the Muses proceeded to draw
The sonnet she claimed from his murmuring shell.
83
She deemed he would glory her beauty to praise,
Her form, and her hair, and form her dark Spanish eyes;
And her fancy was filled with the glow of his lays,
Lighted up like the rainbow with heavenly dyes.
Her form, and her hair, and form her dark Spanish eyes;
And her fancy was filled with the glow of his lays,
Lighted up like the rainbow with heavenly dyes.
But her guess was at fault; not a word of her charms
Was allowed by the minstrel to smile on his page,
Not a breath of true gallantry breathed from his lip,
Not a soft note of grace warbled forth from his cage.
Was allowed by the minstrel to smile on his page,
Not a breath of true gallantry breathed from his lip,
Not a soft note of grace warbled forth from his cage.
But he set for his quill the ingenious task
Of making the sonnet, in measure and time,
As smooth as an eclogue, as bald as a stone,
And as empty of meaning as faultless in rhyme.
Of making the sonnet, in measure and time,
As smooth as an eclogue, as bald as a stone,
And as empty of meaning as faultless in rhyme.
The words were consummate in number and time,
The lines were as faultless as eye ever read;
The sonnet was perfect, excepting alone,—
'T was just what he purposed,—that nothing was said.
The lines were as faultless as eye ever read;
The sonnet was perfect, excepting alone,—
'T was just what he purposed,—that nothing was said.
HOW BLEST THE ART THAT LINKS IN SACRED BONDS.
PRESERVED THOUGHTS.
How blest the art that links in sacred bonds
The living present with the living past!
The life of other years to ours responds,
Pulse-beat to pulse-beat thrills, and first to last.
The living present with the living past!
The life of other years to ours responds,
Pulse-beat to pulse-beat thrills, and first to last.
The thoughts once breathed in prose, or rolled in song,
Treasured in faithful records, sound again;
Genius and love their harmonies prolong,
And vanished souls converse again with men.
Treasured in faithful records, sound again;
Genius and love their harmonies prolong,
And vanished souls converse again with men.
84
And books are thoughts; these alcoves fair shall hold,
Like rare and priceless gems, the sacred trust,
When monumental piles and shrine of gold,
Battered and worn, shall crumble into dust.
Like rare and priceless gems, the sacred trust,
When monumental piles and shrine of gold,
Battered and worn, shall crumble into dust.
Whose shall the honor be, O history, say,—
When, passed from earth, the glorious thinkers sleep,—
Their thoughts, like jewels rescued from decay,
In fitting chambers to arrange and keep?
When, passed from earth, the glorious thinkers sleep,—
Their thoughts, like jewels rescued from decay,
In fitting chambers to arrange and keep?
Thank God! such trusts to human hands are given;
Thank God! such trusts shall not be given in vain;
Earth's clustered blooms will show fair fruit in heaven,
Thoughts, saved on earth, will shine in heaven again.
Thank God! such trusts shall not be given in vain;
Earth's clustered blooms will show fair fruit in heaven,
Thoughts, saved on earth, will shine in heaven again.
How blest the task, in this short life of ours,
Life's loving work and influence to extend,
Clothing the mortal with immortal powers,
Making all ages with all ages blend!
Life's loving work and influence to extend,
Clothing the mortal with immortal powers,
Making all ages with all ages blend!
THE GENTLE MUSE OF TO-DAY.
The Muses, in the olden days,—
They numbered barely nine,—
'T was theirs to wake the sweetest lays,
To charm and to refine;
To teach the bliss of life and love,
To make the whole world bright,
Ten thousand rills of joy to start,
To shine, as shines the light.
They numbered barely nine,—
'T was theirs to wake the sweetest lays,
To charm and to refine;
85
To make the whole world bright,
Ten thousand rills of joy to start,
To shine, as shines the light.
But we, in later times, have found
A hundred Muses more;
And on each gentle Muse we meet,
Our love and praise we pour;
Each makes earth happier, life more blest,
Brings to our homes a heaven,—
Dear charmers of our secret hearts,
The best gift God has given!
A hundred Muses more;
And on each gentle Muse we meet,
Our love and praise we pour;
Each makes earth happier, life more blest,
Brings to our homes a heaven,—
Dear charmers of our secret hearts,
The best gift God has given!
Ardent, they study to expand
The fields already won;
And in their noble deeds surpass
All that the past has done;
By pinnacles of honor gained,
By summits grandly trod,
They prove what woman can attain,
Inspired and helped of God.
The fields already won;
And in their noble deeds surpass
All that the past has done;
By pinnacles of honor gained,
By summits grandly trod,
They prove what woman can attain,
Inspired and helped of God.
We honor all whose hearts are true,
And gladly, proudly, raise
The noblest trophy art can bring
Their glorious course to praise;
A thousand blessings on them rest,—
Blessings from heart and hand,—
The Muses we delight to own,
They are this fairy band.
And gladly, proudly, raise
The noblest trophy art can bring
Their glorious course to praise;
A thousand blessings on them rest,—
Blessings from heart and hand,—
The Muses we delight to own,
They are this fairy band.
86
ANNIVERSARIES AND DEDICATIONS.
COME TO THE FESTAL DAY.
A HYMN FOR A SCHOOL ANNIVERSARY.
Come to the festal day,
Cheerfully welcomed, come!
Come join our songs; come share the joy
That crowns our school and home!
Cheerfully welcomed, come!
Come join our songs; come share the joy
That crowns our school and home!
Here have our hearts received
Treasures of holy truth,—
God's living words,—the helps of age,
The loving guides of youth.
Treasures of holy truth,—
God's living words,—the helps of age,
The loving guides of youth.
Come, for the rolling year,
With bursting buds and flowers,
Summons the sower to his toils,
And gladdens us in ours!
With bursting buds and flowers,
Summons the sower to his toils,
And gladdens us in ours!
God's blessing cheers each task:
No work for God is vain:
His is alike the beaming sun,
And His the gentle rain.
No work for God is vain:
His is alike the beaming sun,
And His the gentle rain.
Then to our festal day
And cheerful greetings, come!
Come join our songs; come share the joy
That crowns our school and home!
And cheerful greetings, come!
Come join our songs; come share the joy
That crowns our school and home!
87
IN LOVING FAITH THIS STONE WE PLACE.
LAYING THE CORNER-STONE, NORUMBEGA, WELLESLEY COLLEGE.
In loving faith this stone we place;
God is our trust,—in Him we build;
All noble works through Him are wrought,
All life is with His pulse-beat thrilled.
God is our trust,—in Him we build;
All noble works through Him are wrought,
All life is with His pulse-beat thrilled.
O Life of life! O Light of light!
Our breath, our joy, our hope, our aim,—
We plant our corner-stone, we rear
Our home, in honor of Thy name!
Our breath, our joy, our hope, our aim,—
We plant our corner-stone, we rear
Our home, in honor of Thy name!
In love o'er all the work preside
As wall, and tower, and peak ascend;
And be its crown of glory, Thou,—
Earth's noblest hope, life's highest end,
As wall, and tower, and peak ascend;
And be its crown of glory, Thou,—
Earth's noblest hope, life's highest end,
The broad, sweet landscape at our feet,—
Forest and vale, and hill and sea,—
Reveal Thy wondrous skill and power;
All space, all time, are full of Thee.
Forest and vale, and hill and sea,—
Reveal Thy wondrous skill and power;
All space, all time, are full of Thee.
So let the building we prepare,
The house we to Thy honor raise,
Be a new temple built for God,—
Forever vocal with His praise.
The house we to Thy honor raise,
Be a new temple built for God,—
Forever vocal with His praise.
June 22, 1885.
88
IN FAITH THIS CORNER-STONE WE LAY.
FOR THE CORNER-STONE LAYING, WORCESTER ACADEMY, 1889.
In faith this corner-stone we lay,—
A tribute to fair Learning's shrine;
God is our wisdom, God our stay,
And His the work our thoughts design.
A tribute to fair Learning's shrine;
God is our wisdom, God our stay,
And His the work our thoughts design.
We build in faith for nobler years,
For generations yet to be;
As every soul its structure rears
And builds for immortality.
For generations yet to be;
As every soul its structure rears
And builds for immortality.
Let children's children here be trained
To love the paths their fathers trod,
To keep the boon their fathers gained,
To love and trust their fathers' God.
To love the paths their fathers trod,
To keep the boon their fathers gained,
To love and trust their fathers' God.
And day by day the walls shall grow,
And arch, and dome, and towers shall rise,
As, slowly, works of love below
Tend to bright mansions in the skies.
And arch, and dome, and towers shall rise,
As, slowly, works of love below
Tend to bright mansions in the skies.
89
NOT YET COMPLETE,—THE HALL WE REAR.
AN UNFINISHED MAIN BUILDING.
Not yet complete,—the hall we rear,
O Learning, to thy shrine;
Not yet complete,—our character,
To match the mould divine.
O Learning, to thy shrine;
Not yet complete,—our character,
To match the mould divine.
But wall, and architrave, and dome,—
As stone on stone we raise,—
A finished temple shall become,
Built for Jehovah's praise.
As stone on stone we raise,—
A finished temple shall become,
Built for Jehovah's praise.
And year by year shall many a soul,
Like marble from the mine,
Polished, and set,—a perfect whole,—
In holy beauty shine.
Like marble from the mine,
Polished, and set,—a perfect whole,—
In holy beauty shine.
As arch, and pinnacle, and spire
Point upward to the skies,
O living souls, grandly aspire
To shine in Paradise!
Point upward to the skies,
O living souls, grandly aspire
To shine in Paradise!
90
HYMN FOR THE DEDICATION OF A SCHOOL-HOUSE.
Sow ye beside all waters
The seeds of love and light,
And train your sons and daughters
To wisdom, truth, and right;
Open fresh founts of beauty
Along life's devious road;
Fashion the soul to duty,
And lead it up to God.
The seeds of love and light,
And train your sons and daughters
To wisdom, truth, and right;
Open fresh founts of beauty
Along life's devious road;
Fashion the soul to duty,
And lead it up to God.
Prepare the peaceful bowers
Where opening minds shall wake,
As rosebuds into flowers
In blushing fragrance break;
Water with skilful teaching
The springing germs of thought,
Onward and heavenward reaching,
With coming glory fraught.
Where opening minds shall wake,
As rosebuds into flowers
In blushing fragrance break;
Water with skilful teaching
The springing germs of thought,
Onward and heavenward reaching,
With coming glory fraught.
As priests of God anointed
To keep this high behest,
We take the charge appointed,
To do such bidding blest;
Here shall new gems be fitted
With mild, fair light to shine,
The toil to us committed,
The help, O God, is Thine.
To keep this high behest,
We take the charge appointed,
To do such bidding blest;
Here shall new gems be fitted
With mild, fair light to shine,
The toil to us committed,
The help, O God, is Thine.
91
FAIR SEAT OF LEARNING! WHO SHALL TELL.
JUBILEE HYMN FOR MOUNT HOLYOKE SEMINARY, JUNE 23, 1887.
Fair seat of learning! who shall tell
The joy we feel in greeting thee
On this glad day, thy festal day,
Thy blessed day of jubilee!
The joy we feel in greeting thee
On this glad day, thy festal day,
Thy blessed day of jubilee!
O born of faith! O nursed in prayer!
What grateful throngs repeat thy name!
What memories, lingering round the globe,
With fervent blessing crown thy fame!
What grateful throngs repeat thy name!
What memories, lingering round the globe,
With fervent blessing crown thy fame!
O loyal hearts! bring hymns of praise
To Him to whom all praise is due;
With loyal homage pay your vows,
In loyal faith your vows renew.
To Him to whom all praise is due;
With loyal homage pay your vows,
In loyal faith your vows renew.
Glory to Him who planned, who guides,
The years elapsed, the years to be;
For His dear sake, in His great name,
We keep our hallowed Jubilee.
The years elapsed, the years to be;
For His dear sake, in His great name,
We keep our hallowed Jubilee.
92
FAIR WORCESTER.
Fair Worcester, enthroned on the hills in thy pride,
With the city-domes gleaming below,
A gem on the robe of a beautiful bride,
Or a crown on a beautiful brow,
Thy children return to thy favorite halls,
With more joy than the hom-flying dove;
Their hearts burn with gladness to answer thy calls,
As they bring thee their tribute of love.
With the city-domes gleaming below,
A gem on the robe of a beautiful bride,
Or a crown on a beautiful brow,
Thy children return to thy favorite halls,
With more joy than the hom-flying dove;
Their hearts burn with gladness to answer thy calls,
As they bring thee their tribute of love.
Dear Muse of our childhood, dear guide of our youth,
To our hearts what fond memories throng;
From thy chalice we drank the rich draughts of truth,
And our souls through thy strength were made strong.
No landscape was ever so fair to be seen;
No such sunsets crowned day's busy hours;
No friends like the friends of our boyhood have been,
And no teachers so gracious as ours.
To our hearts what fond memories throng;
From thy chalice we drank the rich draughts of truth,
And our souls through thy strength were made strong.
No landscape was ever so fair to be seen;
No such sunsets crowned day's busy hours;
No friends like the friends of our boyhood have been,
And no teachers so gracious as ours.
O favored of Heaven, thy sons have engraved
Their bright names on the wreath of thy fame;
To guard thee and guide thee, around thee has waved
God's broad pillar of cloud and of flame.
Still onward and upward pursue thy fair march,
Like an army with banners unfurled;
While God bends above thee His covenant arch,
And before thee lies waiting the world.
Their bright names on the wreath of thy fame;
To guard thee and guide thee, around thee has waved
God's broad pillar of cloud and of flame.
Still onward and upward pursue thy fair march,
Like an army with banners unfurled;
While God bends above thee His covenant arch,
And before thee lies waiting the world.
November 13,1891.
93
FAIR SUFFIELD, THY CHILDREN RETURN TO THY HALLS.
FAIR SUFFIELD.
Fair Suffield, thy children return to thy halls,
As the birdlings fly back to their nest,
Delighted to welcome thy motherly calls,
And to lean as of old on thy breast;
Whatever our lot in the future may be,
And wherever our footsteps may roam,
Our hearts shall still turn with affection to thee,
And shall find in thy bosom a home.
As the birdlings fly back to their nest,
Delighted to welcome thy motherly calls,
And to lean as of old on thy breast;
Whatever our lot in the future may be,
And wherever our footsteps may roam,
Our hearts shall still turn with affection to thee,
And shall find in thy bosom a home.
What lessons of wisdom we learned from thy lips!
What ambitions thy teachings have fired!
The light of those teachings no years can eclipse,
Nor imperil the love they inspired;
Thy light has shone far o'er the darkness of earth,
Like the sunbeams that break from the sky;
Thy prophets and heroes have honored their birth,
And their record stands written on high.
What ambitions thy teachings have fired!
The light of those teachings no years can eclipse,
Nor imperil the love they inspired;
Thy light has shone far o'er the darkness of earth,
Like the sunbeams that break from the sky;
Thy prophets and heroes have honored their birth,
And their record stands written on high.
Oh, long from thy seat on the hills, in thy pride,
Be thy glorious banner unfurled;
There draw every eye like a beautiful bride,
And bring blessing and joy to the world!
The God of our fathers establish thy state,
And His pillar of cloud and of flame
Defend thee and guide thee while thousands shall wait
To be honored and called by thy name!
Be thy glorious banner unfurled;
There draw every eye like a beautiful bride,
And bring blessing and joy to the world!
The God of our fathers establish thy state,
And His pillar of cloud and of flame
Defend thee and guide thee while thousands shall wait
To be honored and called by thy name!
94
RE-UNIONS.
HYMN
FOR THE REUNION OF ALUMNI OF NEWTON THEOLOGICAL INSTITUTION AT SARATOGA SPRINGS, MAY, 1885.
Toilers from many a distant field,
Alike in shade or sun,
Each throbbing heart and beating pulse
Beats as the pulse of one.
Alike in shade or sun,
Each throbbing heart and beating pulse
Beats as the pulse of one.
A thousand memories of the past
Bind us in trust and love;
They make us one,—one band on earth,—
One here, and one above.
Bind us in trust and love;
They make us one,—one band on earth,—
One here, and one above.
One work, one Christly work, inspires
The thoughts of every soul;
One aim, one Christly aim, makes one
The labors of the whole.
The thoughts of every soul;
One aim, one Christly aim, makes one
The labors of the whole.
One hope, one glorious hope, relieves
And cheers our pilgrim way;
We see afar our crown, to grace
Christ's coronation day.
And cheers our pilgrim way;
We see afar our crown, to grace
Christ's coronation day.
And so the men that toiled and loved
In trial, zeal, and pain,
Redeemed, shall find one home, at last,
In Christ be one again.
In trial, zeal, and pain,
Redeemed, shall find one home, at last,
In Christ be one again.
95
HYMN FOR NEWTON THEOLOGICAL INSTITUTION.
Drawn to this blest retreat,
What hosts, in converse sweet,
These paths have trod;
What hosts have loved and prayed,
And on Heaven's altar laid
Their all, amid thy shades,
O mount of God!
What hosts, in converse sweet,
These paths have trod;
What hosts have loved and prayed,
And on Heaven's altar laid
Their all, amid thy shades,
O mount of God!
One bond unites the whole,—
Breathes, moves, one kindred soul,
Our life, the same.
Our hopes, our aims, are one;
Christ is our central sun,
And all our works are done
In His dear name.
Breathes, moves, one kindred soul,
Our life, the same.
Our hopes, our aims, are one;
Christ is our central sun,
And all our works are done
In His dear name.
Our ears the call have heard,
“Go, preach my saving word,”
Here, Lord, are we;
Each in his chosen sphere,
Ready the cross to rear,
Answers, in accents clear,
“Here, Lord, send me.”
“Go, preach my saving word,”
Here, Lord, are we;
Each in his chosen sphere,
Ready the cross to rear,
Answers, in accents clear,
“Here, Lord, send me.”
Behold, the nations wake!
Saviour, Thy sceptre take,
Assume Thy throne;
Armed with the prophet's rod,
Thy servants wait thy nod,
God over all, our God,
Come, reign, alone!
Saviour, Thy sceptre take,
Assume Thy throne;
Armed with the prophet's rod,
Thy servants wait thy nod,
God over all, our God,
Come, reign, alone!
Davenport, Iowa, April 5, 1893.
96
A SONG OF “LANG SYNE.”
FOR THE CLASS OF 1829.
When autumn blasts sweep o'er the fields,
And slanting suns decline,
How bright the hour that gathers here
The Class of '29!
And slanting suns decline,
How bright the hour that gathers here
The Class of '29!
How fair the day when round the heart
Old friendships, hallowed, twine;
Blest be the ties that join in love
The Class of '29!
Old friendships, hallowed, twine;
Blest be the ties that join in love
The Class of '29!
Now college days come back afresh,—
Secant, and curve, and sine,
Logic and Latin, that imbued
The Class of '29.
Secant, and curve, and sine,
Logic and Latin, that imbued
The Class of '29.
Homer and Hesiod, Paley, Brown,
Anacreon's love and wine,
And modern lore, that came t' adorn
The Class of '29.
Anacreon's love and wine,
And modern lore, that came t' adorn
The Class of '29.
Around our brows, once bright with youth,
Now age hangs out its sign;
But nobler grows the fame which wreathes
The Class of '29.
Now age hangs out its sign;
But nobler grows the fame which wreathes
The Class of '29.
Then hand to hand, and heart to heart,
Like brothers, still combine,
Till not a name, unstarred, shall mark
The Class of '29.
Like brothers, still combine,
Till not a name, unstarred, shall mark
The Class of '29.
97
NOT YET THE FROST OF AGE.
HARVARD CLASS OF '29.
Not yet the frost of age,
Nor ardent summer's rage,
Nor history's burdened page
Has chilled or scorched the friendships of our youth;
Nor with a “finis” ended,
Life's stories, vaguely blended,
Which years have comprehended,
Are closed and bound and sealed with changeless truth!
Nor ardent summer's rage,
Nor history's burdened page
Has chilled or scorched the friendships of our youth;
Nor with a “finis” ended,
Life's stories, vaguely blended,
Which years have comprehended,
Are closed and bound and sealed with changeless truth!
Like seamen, when they tack,
Our eyes look gravely back
Along the lengthening track,
Far to our sunny morn and booming spring;
When with our sails inflated,
Time's mingled cup untasted,
On the fair verge we waited,
And gazed intent, to see what life would bring.
Our eyes look gravely back
Along the lengthening track,
Far to our sunny morn and booming spring;
When with our sails inflated,
Time's mingled cup untasted,
On the fair verge we waited,
And gazed intent, to see what life would bring.
From old companions parted,
The dear and noble-hearted,
With whom the race we started,—
Like weary steeds, we watch the setting sun;
Climbed are the heights we sought,
Our manhood's deeds are wrought,
Our battles sternly fought,
Favored by God's good grace, and victory won.
The dear and noble-hearted,
With whom the race we started,—
Like weary steeds, we watch the setting sun;
Climbed are the heights we sought,
Our manhood's deeds are wrought,
Our battles sternly fought,
Favored by God's good grace, and victory won.
98
Yet that old fervor burns,
Still the young blood returns,
Just as the summer ferns
Are green and strong till falls the autumn blast;
So to the clouds of even,
Grouped in the glittering heaven,
Ever new glow is given,
And never are they brighter than at last.
Still the young blood returns,
Just as the summer ferns
Are green and strong till falls the autumn blast;
So to the clouds of even,
Grouped in the glittering heaven,
Ever new glow is given,
And never are they brighter than at last.
The dropping sands still fall;
From heaven new voices call;
We claim them each and all,—
The starred that shone, the unstarred names that shine.
Oh, fewer still, and fewer,
But never, never truer,
Just as when life was newer,—
God keep the unstarred names of “twenty-nine!”
From heaven new voices call;
We claim them each and all,—
The starred that shone, the unstarred names that shine.
Oh, fewer still, and fewer,
But never, never truer,
Just as when life was newer,—
God keep the unstarred names of “twenty-nine!”
At Parker's, Boston, January 10, 1884.
99
'MID THE TEMPEST AND THE STRIFE.
HARVARD CLASS OF '29.
'Mid the tempest and the strife,
With stern heart and ready hand,
As when amid the conflict dire
Embattled legions stand,
In a world where bounding joy
Comes alternately with tears,
As night dews follow noontide heat,—
We have finished fifty years.
With stern heart and ready hand,
As when amid the conflict dire
Embattled legions stand,
In a world where bounding joy
Comes alternately with tears,
As night dews follow noontide heat,—
We have finished fifty years.
Oh, blissful were the hours
When, with brilliant hopes and young,
We launched our bark on life's bright sea,
And wooed the siren's tongue,
And the future, calm and fair,
Stood undimmed by rising fears;
Alas, our hearts had yet to learn
The scenes of fifty years!
When, with brilliant hopes and young,
We launched our bark on life's bright sea,
And wooed the siren's tongue,
And the future, calm and fair,
Stood undimmed by rising fears;
Alas, our hearts had yet to learn
The scenes of fifty years!
But with steadfast eye and heart,
Ever up and onward led,
The joy of freedom round us cast,
Its light above our head,
As shouts the pilgrim from the height
The towering mountain rears,—
So on the summit gained, we stand;
We have finished fifty years.
Ever up and onward led,
The joy of freedom round us cast,
Its light above our head,
As shouts the pilgrim from the height
The towering mountain rears,—
So on the summit gained, we stand;
We have finished fifty years.
100
Now back we turn to view
The path our steps have trod,
And, yearning, seek to press again
With loving feet the sod,
And busy memory to our souls
The fragrant past endears;
Yet comes that benison no more,—
We have finished fifty years.
The path our steps have trod,
And, yearning, seek to press again
With loving feet the sod,
And busy memory to our souls
The fragrant past endears;
Yet comes that benison no more,—
We have finished fifty years.
As the gray old ruin stands,
And verdure o'er it creeps,
And clings in every nook and seam,
And in silent beauty sleeps,—
So round our manhood's heart
The bloom of youth appears;
Age nurtures these sweet-trailing flowers,—
We have finished fifty years.
And verdure o'er it creeps,
And clings in every nook and seam,
And in silent beauty sleeps,—
So round our manhood's heart
The bloom of youth appears;
Age nurtures these sweet-trailing flowers,—
We have finished fifty years.
We have finished fifty years;
But our friendship, warm and true,
Unchanging, mocks the lapse of time,
Like heaven's immortal blue.
The radiant arch still smiles;
And while faith the portal nears,
Our love outrides the storms of life,—
The gales of fifty years.
But our friendship, warm and true,
Unchanging, mocks the lapse of time,
Like heaven's immortal blue.
The radiant arch still smiles;
And while faith the portal nears,
Our love outrides the storms of life,—
The gales of fifty years.
So clasp each brother's hand,
With a firm heart and a brave,
Strong to endure each adverse shock,
To breast each beating wave,
And light the crested foam with joy,
Howe'er the tempest veers,
Till storm and conflict, lulled, repose
Beyond these mortal years.
With a firm heart and a brave,
Strong to endure each adverse shock,
To breast each beating wave,
And light the crested foam with joy,
Howe'er the tempest veers,
Till storm and conflict, lulled, repose
Beyond these mortal years.
Founded on the fact that the members of the Class of 1829, with two or three exceptions only, are understood to be just fifty years of age.
101
TRIBUTES.
TO MR. SETH DAVIS, SCHOOL-MASTER.
ON HIS ONE HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY.
Hail, honored master! Hail, thrice-honored friend!
Before thy hundred years, we, reverent, bend;
Distinguished praises for thy well-earned fame
Our lips would speak, our grateful thought would frame.
Distinguished man, whose deeds, so bravely done,
Have charmed and blessed, in turn, both sire and son;
Lone pillar, thou, amid the wastes of years,
The sole survivor of their joys and tears;
Whose like our eyes will ne'er behold again,
Grand and alone,—a monument of men.
Before thy hundred years, we, reverent, bend;
Distinguished praises for thy well-earned fame
Our lips would speak, our grateful thought would frame.
Distinguished man, whose deeds, so bravely done,
Have charmed and blessed, in turn, both sire and son;
Lone pillar, thou, amid the wastes of years,
The sole survivor of their joys and tears;
Whose like our eyes will ne'er behold again,
Grand and alone,—a monument of men.
Distinguished, thou, dear man, above thy peers,
Rich in the circle of thy hundred years,
Whose eye, undimmed, has seen the months decay,
While generations thrice have passed away;
Skilful to teach, kind and discreet to guide,
Keen to discern, and honest to decide,
Acute to plan, and earnest to defend;
If e'er a foe in seeming, still a friend,
Training thy pupils to be good and wise.
Goodness lives ever; wisdom never dies.
Thy teaching made them men, both good and great,
Fitted to hold and grace the chair of state;
Great for the platform, pulpit, field, or mart,
But greatest in the goodness of the heart;
As fruits that ripen 'neath the genial sun,
Beauty and richness yield, combined in one.
Rich in the circle of thy hundred years,
Whose eye, undimmed, has seen the months decay,
While generations thrice have passed away;
Skilful to teach, kind and discreet to guide,
Keen to discern, and honest to decide,
Acute to plan, and earnest to defend;
If e'er a foe in seeming, still a friend,
Training thy pupils to be good and wise.
Goodness lives ever; wisdom never dies.
Thy teaching made them men, both good and great,
Fitted to hold and grace the chair of state;
102
But greatest in the goodness of the heart;
As fruits that ripen 'neath the genial sun,
Beauty and richness yield, combined in one.
Friend of our early youth and riper age,
The citizen, the patriot, and the sage;
Blessed with an eye to see, a hand to do,
A heart to throb, a soul both large and true;
Man of the present, treasury of the past,—
How has thy life been honored to the last!
Of old traditions, thou, a matchless store,
A walking volume of historic lore;
Lover of Nature in its varied moods,
Its brooks and flowers, its fields and leafy woods,
A thousand trees, set by thy loving care,
Attest thy taste and toil, which placed them there.
The citizen, the patriot, and the sage;
Blessed with an eye to see, a hand to do,
A heart to throb, a soul both large and true;
Man of the present, treasury of the past,—
How has thy life been honored to the last!
Of old traditions, thou, a matchless store,
A walking volume of historic lore;
Lover of Nature in its varied moods,
Its brooks and flowers, its fields and leafy woods,
A thousand trees, set by thy loving care,
Attest thy taste and toil, which placed them there.
So on the hill, where forests used to stand,
One tall old tree—the monarch of the band—
Towers upward, all alone, in lofty pride,
While generations, nourished at its side
In gentle summer and in winter drear,
Have grown and fallen with every passing year,—
Each season crowns it with luxuriant leaves,
Each autumn round it some fresh glory weaves,
And twittering birds and sunbeams o'er it play,
While the old monarch suffers no decay.
One tall old tree—the monarch of the band—
Towers upward, all alone, in lofty pride,
While generations, nourished at its side
In gentle summer and in winter drear,
Have grown and fallen with every passing year,—
Each season crowns it with luxuriant leaves,
Each autumn round it some fresh glory weaves,
And twittering birds and sunbeams o'er it play,
While the old monarch suffers no decay.
May thy late years decline, O honored friend,
As setting suns their glowing colors blend,
Peacefully fading towards the darkening west,
Sinking serenely to their destined rest,
Prophetic of a new and brighter day,
When years and centuries shall have passed away!
As setting suns their glowing colors blend,
Peacefully fading towards the darkening west,
Sinking serenely to their destined rest,
Prophetic of a new and brighter day,
When years and centuries shall have passed away!
September 3, 1887.
103
THE DEPARTED TEACHER.
Gone, but not lost! the star of day,
Merged in the morning radiance, dies,
But holds, unseen, its onward way,
And walks in glory through the skies.
Merged in the morning radiance, dies,
But holds, unseen, its onward way,
And walks in glory through the skies.
The brilliant orbs that guard the night,
Like priests around their altar-fires,
Quenched, but not lost, a living light,
Are watching still, though night retires.
Like priests around their altar-fires,
Quenched, but not lost, a living light,
Are watching still, though night retires.
Gone, but not lost! the glowing sun
Sinks, weary, 'neath the darkening west,
But tho' his daily race is run,
New worlds are by his presence blest.
Sinks, weary, 'neath the darkening west,
But tho' his daily race is run,
New worlds are by his presence blest.
Gone, but not lost! the summer's bloom
Lies sleeping 'neath the wintry snow;
But richer fruits spring from the tomb,
From dark decay fair harvest grow.
Lies sleeping 'neath the wintry snow;
But richer fruits spring from the tomb,
From dark decay fair harvest grow.
Gone, but not lost! who lives sublime
Lives beyond life, he cannot die;
Born for all years, for every clime,
His a true immortality.
Lives beyond life, he cannot die;
Born for all years, for every clime,
His a true immortality.
We weep as, one by one, we lay
Our brethren with the garnered host,
While gratefully the ages say,
No saintly life is ever lost.
Our brethren with the garnered host,
While gratefully the ages say,
No saintly life is ever lost.
104
Farewell, the reverend teacher sleeps,
Taken, alas! yet doubly given;
His life undimmed, its pathway keeps—
One course alike in earth and heaven.
Taken, alas! yet doubly given;
His life undimmed, its pathway keeps—
One course alike in earth and heaven.
January, 1875.
REQUIEM.
Another,—yes, another,—
We are passing, one by one,
Like soldiers, fallen in battle,
Be the conflict lost or won.
Another,—yes, another,
Like an evening star, has set;
Behind the western mountains
The light is lingering yet.
We are passing, one by one,
Like soldiers, fallen in battle,
Be the conflict lost or won.
Another,—yes, another,
Like an evening star, has set;
Behind the western mountains
The light is lingering yet.
Another,—yes, another,—
The friends of earlier days,
As melt the mists of morning
Amid the noonday haze,
Life's golden harvests, gathered,
Pass on to other spheres;
Life's early promise kindled
Light round their riper years.
The friends of earlier days,
As melt the mists of morning
Amid the noonday haze,
Life's golden harvests, gathered,
Pass on to other spheres;
Life's early promise kindled
Light round their riper years.
Another,—yes, another,—
As ever on the lake
Wave follows wave, and shoreward
Successive billows break;
Grand in the storm, but fairest
When, all the conflict o'er,
In gentle ripples moving,
They lave the silent shore.
As ever on the lake
Wave follows wave, and shoreward
Successive billows break;
105
When, all the conflict o'er,
In gentle ripples moving,
They lave the silent shore.
Another,—yes, another,
Torn from the golden chain,
Crowned, after life's stern conflict,
Another warrior slain;
With closer ranks, his valor
Shall help us dare and do;
Shorter the chain, but stronger,—
We'll weld the parts anew.
Torn from the golden chain,
Crowned, after life's stern conflict,
Another warrior slain;
With closer ranks, his valor
Shall help us dare and do;
Shorter the chain, but stronger,—
We'll weld the parts anew.
Another,—yes, another,—
We drop like forest leaves,
When the year's crown of glory
The mellow autumn weaves;
But lives of love and duty
Sink to no vain repose;
Sunsets shed lingering radiance,
Fragrance, the dying rose.
We drop like forest leaves,
When the year's crown of glory
The mellow autumn weaves;
But lives of love and duty
Sink to no vain repose;
Sunsets shed lingering radiance,
Fragrance, the dying rose.
Another,—yes, another,—
The calls more frequent grow,
As whitens round our temples
More thick the silver snow;
God of the weak and weary,
Light of our joyful past,
Guide us, support and keep us,
Till falls in death the last!
The calls more frequent grow,
As whitens round our temples
More thick the silver snow;
God of the weak and weary,
Light of our joyful past,
Guide us, support and keep us,
Till falls in death the last!
106
N. P. WILLIS.
Come back to be buried beneath the green willow,
Whose long weeping branches trail over the tomb;
The soil of thy birthplace prepares thee a pillow,—
Where kindled thy morn, for thy eve there is room.
Whose long weeping branches trail over the tomb;
The soil of thy birthplace prepares thee a pillow,—
Where kindled thy morn, for thy eve there is room.
Come back to be buried, where patriarchs holy
In faith breathed thy name at the altar of prayer;
Come back, from thy greatness, to sleep with the lowly,
Where pride sounds no trumpet, and fame is but air.
In faith breathed thy name at the altar of prayer;
Come back, from thy greatness, to sleep with the lowly,
Where pride sounds no trumpet, and fame is but air.
Come back to be buried, where honor first found thee,
And o'er thee her mantle deliciously flung;
Come back with thy robe of renown wrapped around thee,
To rest where thy garlands in youth o'er thee hung.
And o'er thee her mantle deliciously flung;
Come back with thy robe of renown wrapped around thee,
To rest where thy garlands in youth o'er thee hung.
Come back to be buried, as blossomings vernal
Fall back to the soil whence their beauty was born;
As sunset clouds glitter in glory supernal,
Returned from the earth which they moistened at morn.
Fall back to the soil whence their beauty was born;
As sunset clouds glitter in glory supernal,
Returned from the earth which they moistened at morn.
Come back to be buried,—but still shall the crescent
Of fame, early won, the record illume;
As chaplets of love, made sempervirescent,
Are saved from the night and the damps of the tomb.
Of fame, early won, the record illume;
As chaplets of love, made sempervirescent,
Are saved from the night and the damps of the tomb.
107
Come back to be buried,—mowed down by the Reaper,
Whose pitiless scythe spares nor manhood nor bloom;
Come back to be buried, O lone, silent sleeper,
Thy kindred await thee,—come, pilgrim, come home.
Whose pitiless scythe spares nor manhood nor bloom;
Come back to be buried, O lone, silent sleeper,
Thy kindred await thee,—come, pilgrim, come home.
Mr. Willis was born in Portland, passed his early days in Boston, died at Idlewild, N. Y., Jan. 20, 1867, and came back to be buried in Mt. Auburn, Jan. 24.
EDWARD EVERETT.
Mute is his eloquence: that silver tongue
On whose sweet accents crowds, admiring, hung,—
Whose fitting words in heavenly beauty fell
On ear and heart, that owned the witching spell;
Whose graceful cadence tides of feeling woke,
As if on earth some loving angel spoke,—
Now rests in silence, like a harp unstrung.
Its notes, unrivalled, on the breezes flung,
Still breathe in living echoes in the air,
As though the master-spirit lingered there.
Who can do justice to so great a name?
Who speak in worthy words his matchless fame?
In varied learning brilliant and profound;
In taste a model, and in judgment sound;
Above ambition's mean and shuffling arts;
Too great to purchase power at public marts;
In life so pure, in motive so unstained,—
He trod with honor all the heights he gained;
His aims so worthy, and his powers so rare,
If first he stood, the people placed him there.
As stands a shaft on some far-reaching plain,
Rising o'er cottage-roofs and waving grain,
Catching the earliest morning's crimson streams,
And latest splendor of the evening beams,
Towering o'er all, it meets the distant sight,
And bathes its summit in the peerless light,—
So, in his country, in his age, alone,
As in the earlier times great Washington;
When foemen trod the stage with haughty stride,
He for his country spoke with manly pride,
Consoled the timid, made the fainting strong,
Stood for the right, and frowned upon the wrong.
As some brave soldier waves his flag on high,
And points his comrades on, to do or die,
Then plants the banner on the topmost height,
Borne through the fiercest whirlwind of the fight,
Himself forgetting, eager but to see
His nation's struggle crowned by victory,—
So toiled in love, so stood, till evening set,
The ripe, the brave, immortal Everett.
On whose sweet accents crowds, admiring, hung,—
Whose fitting words in heavenly beauty fell
On ear and heart, that owned the witching spell;
Whose graceful cadence tides of feeling woke,
As if on earth some loving angel spoke,—
Now rests in silence, like a harp unstrung.
Its notes, unrivalled, on the breezes flung,
Still breathe in living echoes in the air,
As though the master-spirit lingered there.
Who can do justice to so great a name?
Who speak in worthy words his matchless fame?
In varied learning brilliant and profound;
In taste a model, and in judgment sound;
Above ambition's mean and shuffling arts;
Too great to purchase power at public marts;
In life so pure, in motive so unstained,—
He trod with honor all the heights he gained;
His aims so worthy, and his powers so rare,
If first he stood, the people placed him there.
As stands a shaft on some far-reaching plain,
Rising o'er cottage-roofs and waving grain,
108
And latest splendor of the evening beams,
Towering o'er all, it meets the distant sight,
And bathes its summit in the peerless light,—
So, in his country, in his age, alone,
As in the earlier times great Washington;
When foemen trod the stage with haughty stride,
He for his country spoke with manly pride,
Consoled the timid, made the fainting strong,
Stood for the right, and frowned upon the wrong.
As some brave soldier waves his flag on high,
And points his comrades on, to do or die,
Then plants the banner on the topmost height,
Borne through the fiercest whirlwind of the fight,
Himself forgetting, eager but to see
His nation's struggle crowned by victory,—
So toiled in love, so stood, till evening set,
The ripe, the brave, immortal Everett.
Well at his funeral-pomp did wreaths of green
Adorn the places where his life had been,
And garlands deck, with sweet and cheerful bloom,
The opening gateway to his honored tomb.
The full-blown flowers, of pure and spotless white,
Symbols of finished life, a life upright;
The bursting buds, of fresh and bright renown,
Wreathed o'er his name, like an immortal crown,—
Each fragrant blossom round the good and brave,
Telling how virtue lives beyond the grave.
The martial dirge, with deep and solemn strain,
Fell on the ear as falls the gentle rain,
Breathing o'er troubled hearts a healing balm;
While mingling organ-notes prolonged the psalm,
As if the twofold music had been given,
Symbol of closing earth and opening heaven.
Thus when the good man parts from earth and time.
Soaring from toil and pain to joys sublime,
The flickering light of such a world as this
Melts in the splendor of ecstatic bliss;
The mortal, like the setting sunlight, fades,
While glorious visions rise that know no shades;
And earthly music, as the soul ascends,
Dies on the ear, and with the angelic concert blends.
Adorn the places where his life had been,
And garlands deck, with sweet and cheerful bloom,
The opening gateway to his honored tomb.
The full-blown flowers, of pure and spotless white,
Symbols of finished life, a life upright;
The bursting buds, of fresh and bright renown,
Wreathed o'er his name, like an immortal crown,—
Each fragrant blossom round the good and brave,
Telling how virtue lives beyond the grave.
The martial dirge, with deep and solemn strain,
Fell on the ear as falls the gentle rain,
Breathing o'er troubled hearts a healing balm;
While mingling organ-notes prolonged the psalm,
As if the twofold music had been given,
Symbol of closing earth and opening heaven.
Thus when the good man parts from earth and time.
Soaring from toil and pain to joys sublime,
109
Melts in the splendor of ecstatic bliss;
The mortal, like the setting sunlight, fades,
While glorious visions rise that know no shades;
And earthly music, as the soul ascends,
Dies on the ear, and with the angelic concert blends.
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
IN MEMORIAM.
Dear master of the tuneful lyre,
How shall we breathe the word, “Farewell”?
How shall we touch the trembling wire,
Which vibrates with thy mystic spell?
How shall we breathe the word, “Farewell”?
How shall we touch the trembling wire,
Which vibrates with thy mystic spell?
The world seems poor, of thee bereft;
The evening sky without the sun;
The setting, not the gem, is left;
The frame remains, the picture gone.
The evening sky without the sun;
The setting, not the gem, is left;
The frame remains, the picture gone.
As birds that float on heavenward wing,
Unseen, the air with music fill,—
Singing, they soar, and, soaring, sing,—
Thy broken harp yields music still.
Unseen, the air with music fill,—
Singing, they soar, and, soaring, sing,—
Thy broken harp yields music still.
Life's golden bowl was dashed too soon,
But love still holds thy cherished name;
No sunset thine, but fadeless noon;
No shadow, but immortal fame.
But love still holds thy cherished name;
No sunset thine, but fadeless noon;
No shadow, but immortal fame.
110
So the dear chrysalis we hide,
For God's safe-keeping, in the tomb;
And, in firm faith and hope, we bide
The dawn that breaks the silent gloom.
For God's safe-keeping, in the tomb;
And, in firm faith and hope, we bide
The dawn that breaks the silent gloom.
Wait the fair day, the glorious hour,
The precious form, enshrined in clay,
Instinct with new-created power,
Shall wake, and heaven-ward soar away.
The precious form, enshrined in clay,
Instinct with new-created power,
Shall wake, and heaven-ward soar away.
Newton Centre, October 18, 1894.
111
CIVIC INTERESTS AND OCCASIONS.
THE WORLD'S NEED.
Oh, labor in darkness and labor by day,—
The world waits for workmen, the brave and the true.
Go, work in all fields, and toil while you may,—
The world waits your coming; there 's something to do.
The world waits for workmen, the brave and the true.
Go, work in all fields, and toil while you may,—
The world waits your coming; there 's something to do.
O men, for the times, in the mission of life,
Be strong in the conflict, be brave in the strife!
There 's a crown for the good and joy for the brave
Whom toil cannot conquer, nor pleasure enslave,—
That joy, may you taste; that crown, may it shine
On each glorified brow with a lustre divine.
Be strong in the conflict, be brave in the strife!
There 's a crown for the good and joy for the brave
Whom toil cannot conquer, nor pleasure enslave,—
That joy, may you taste; that crown, may it shine
On each glorified brow with a lustre divine.
TRUE GREATNESS.
What is true greatness?—where and whence?
Who knows its secret drifts?
Bright and mysterious as the light,
Shot from the cloudland rifts?
Whose life, in splendid blazonry,
Shall find immortal fame;
Who, 'mid the wreck of quaking worlds,
Shall wear a deathless name?
Who knows its secret drifts?
Bright and mysterious as the light,
Shot from the cloudland rifts?
Whose life, in splendid blazonry,
Shall find immortal fame;
Who, 'mid the wreck of quaking worlds,
Shall wear a deathless name?
112
Not piles of masonry, or pomp,
Statue, nor marble bust,
Arrest oblivion, and preserve
The frame from kindred dust;
Yet how shall human spirits shine,
As shines the sparkling gem,
And, fadeless, glow like glorious stars
In night's fair diadem?
Statue, nor marble bust,
Arrest oblivion, and preserve
The frame from kindred dust;
Yet how shall human spirits shine,
As shines the sparkling gem,
And, fadeless, glow like glorious stars
In night's fair diadem?
No spirit of the cultured East,
No wealth of skill nor pen,
No grain-fields of the widening West,
Avail to build true men;
No genius, born of earthly germs,
No haughty, base desire,
But nobler breath, imbreathed of God,
Wakes in the soul new fire.
No wealth of skill nor pen,
No grain-fields of the widening West,
Avail to build true men;
No genius, born of earthly germs,
No haughty, base desire,
But nobler breath, imbreathed of God,
Wakes in the soul new fire.
O mystery of human life!
O wondrous end of man!
O theme, with curious questions rife,
With God's divinest plan,—
Plan which no human mind can reach,
No human tongue can tell;
Too deep for angel's speech or thought,
Boundless, ineffable.
O wondrous end of man!
O theme, with curious questions rife,
With God's divinest plan,—
Plan which no human mind can reach,
No human tongue can tell;
Too deep for angel's speech or thought,
Boundless, ineffable.
How doth the acorn from the germ
Become the mighty tree?
How grows the infant spark of thought,
Broader than land and sea?
The mighty oak its crumbling boughs
Back to earth's bosom gives;
But ages come, and ages pass,—
Mind, still expanding, lives.
Become the mighty tree?
How grows the infant spark of thought,
Broader than land and sea?
The mighty oak its crumbling boughs
Back to earth's bosom gives;
But ages come, and ages pass,—
Mind, still expanding, lives.
113
What wealth, of faithful work is born!
What greatness, won by toil,
E'en as the farmer's golden corn
Grows from the deep-worked soil!
Spoil not thy soul with nerveless aim,
With idle, weak desire;
Strive nobly for a noble name,—
To all high deeds aspire.
What greatness, won by toil,
E'en as the farmer's golden corn
Grows from the deep-worked soil!
Spoil not thy soul with nerveless aim,
With idle, weak desire;
Strive nobly for a noble name,—
To all high deeds aspire.
As from the crucible the gold,
Refined by fierce heat, flows;
As from the sculptor's dust and grime
The chiselled wonder grows,—
So, from earth's friction, toil and grief
Bring beauty, love, and truth,
Garments of praise for ripened days,
The light and crown of youth.
Refined by fierce heat, flows;
As from the sculptor's dust and grime
The chiselled wonder grows,—
So, from earth's friction, toil and grief
Bring beauty, love, and truth,
Garments of praise for ripened days,
The light and crown of youth.
They waste, they spoil, their time and toil,
Who pleasure's goblet drain,
And fondly hope by idle wish
Life's high rewards to gain;
Like some bright, beauteous bird whose wing
Is torn, or clipped, or bound,
And his rich dyes he vainly trails
Along the dusty ground.
Who pleasure's goblet drain,
And fondly hope by idle wish
Life's high rewards to gain;
Like some bright, beauteous bird whose wing
Is torn, or clipped, or bound,
And his rich dyes he vainly trails
Along the dusty ground.
On wealth intent, in fierce pursuit
O'er distant climes and isles,
The merchant drives with eager haste,
And heap on heap he piles;
Like sand-hills on the wave-washed shore,
Like clouds of drifting spray,
Like mole-hills in the ploughman's path,
His treasures melt away.
O'er distant climes and isles,
The merchant drives with eager haste,
And heap on heap he piles;
Like sand-hills on the wave-washed shore,
Like clouds of drifting spray,
Like mole-hills in the ploughman's path,
His treasures melt away.
114
Ambition mounts his fiery steeds,
Plumed o'er new heights to soar,
And waves aloft his potent wand
O'er subject sea and shore,—
Nurse thy fair bubble, man of pride,
Thyself, thy mighty care,
Reach forth for other worlds to rule,
And grasp,—but empty air.
Plumed o'er new heights to soar,
And waves aloft his potent wand
O'er subject sea and shore,—
Nurse thy fair bubble, man of pride,
Thyself, thy mighty care,
Reach forth for other worlds to rule,
And grasp,—but empty air.
The athlete struggles in the race,—
The expected crown, his life;
Muscle and bone, and blood and nerve,
Tense with the eager strife;
O bootless task, such wreath to win!
Triumph, alas, how brief!
His valor, nought but force of limb;
His crown, a fading leaf.
The expected crown, his life;
Muscle and bone, and blood and nerve,
Tense with the eager strife;
O bootless task, such wreath to win!
Triumph, alas, how brief!
His valor, nought but force of limb;
His crown, a fading leaf.
Proud of the flag that o'er him waves,
Of deeds his bravery wrought,
Of rights secured, of wrongs redrest,
Of battles grandly fought,—
The warrior, with his sword unsheathed,
Cries, “Victory—or—death!”
How soon his vaunted glory pales,—
Brief as a passing breath.
Of deeds his bravery wrought,
Of rights secured, of wrongs redrest,
Of battles grandly fought,—
The warrior, with his sword unsheathed,
Cries, “Victory—or—death!”
How soon his vaunted glory pales,—
Brief as a passing breath.
Scorched on the line, chilled at the pole,
Tossed on the billowy foam,—
Hope vainly lures the explorer on,
With tireless zeal to roam.
Perchance, he finds nor sea nor land;
The phantom onward leads:
The fame, the wealth, the rest he seeks,
False to his hopes, recedes.
Tossed on the billowy foam,—
Hope vainly lures the explorer on,
With tireless zeal to roam.
Perchance, he finds nor sea nor land;
The phantom onward leads:
The fame, the wealth, the rest he seeks,
False to his hopes, recedes.
115
But gold, nor art, nor costly show,
Nor birth, nor regal state,
Nor palace tall, nor acres wide
Make him who holds them great;
But wisdom, grace, and knowledge broad,
A great and noble soul,
And God's blest image, God's high thought,
Stamped grandly on the whole.
Nor birth, nor regal state,
Nor palace tall, nor acres wide
Make him who holds them great;
But wisdom, grace, and knowledge broad,
A great and noble soul,
And God's blest image, God's high thought,
Stamped grandly on the whole.
Oh, winnow grains of truth and love
From this world's useless straw!
Who rules his life, he rules the end,—
'T is Nature's changeless law.
Oh, blest the man, supremely blest,
Whose life sublimely flows,
And God's approving sentence sheds
A halo round its close!
From this world's useless straw!
Who rules his life, he rules the end,—
'T is Nature's changeless law.
Oh, blest the man, supremely blest,
Whose life sublimely flows,
And God's approving sentence sheds
A halo round its close!
O man, in God's own image formed,
Offspring of God's great thought;
O man, for lofty aims designed,
For noble purpose wrought,—
Build not on Time's illusive sands
The pillar of thy fame,
But high, on monuments unseen,
Carve an immortal name.
Offspring of God's great thought;
O man, for lofty aims designed,
For noble purpose wrought,—
Build not on Time's illusive sands
The pillar of thy fame,
But high, on monuments unseen,
Carve an immortal name.
What harvest fields of joy and hope
Whiten the world's broad face!
A sickle waits each willing hand,
Each heart God's helping grace;
No seed is lost, no precious grain
To earth can, useless, fall.
God guards the reapers and the seed;
His love shall garner all.
Whiten the world's broad face!
A sickle waits each willing hand,
Each heart God's helping grace;
No seed is lost, no precious grain
To earth can, useless, fall.
God guards the reapers and the seed;
His love shall garner all.
116
WOMEN'S RIGHTS.
'T is the question of the day;
They discuss it every May,
With all their wit and learning;
And renew it in October,—
Dames, strong-minded, and men, sober,
Stupid souls, and souls discerning.
They discuss it every May,
With all their wit and learning;
And renew it in October,—
Dames, strong-minded, and men, sober,
Stupid souls, and souls discerning.
Oh, for wisdom to pronounce,
To the tittle of an ounce,
For our wives, and for some prim men,
The number, weight, and measure
Of that rich and precious treasure,—
The rights, to wit, of women.
To the tittle of an ounce,
For our wives, and for some prim men,
The number, weight, and measure
Of that rich and precious treasure,—
The rights, to wit, of women.
'T is my creed,—perhaps I'm wrong,
But I'll say it for a song,—
Their right is to promote us
From bachelors to men,
To excel us with the pen,
But never to outvote us.
But I'll say it for a song,—
Their right is to promote us
From bachelors to men,
To excel us with the pen,
But never to outvote us.
Should we let her vote at all,—
Woman great or woman small,—
Such majorities might aid her,
That the lords of this creation
Would lose their right and station,
And their claim to run the nation,
From zenith down to nadir.
Woman great or woman small,—
Such majorities might aid her,
That the lords of this creation
Would lose their right and station,
And their claim to run the nation,
From zenith down to nadir.
117
'T is their right, throughout the strife
Of this weary, toiling life,
To be gentle, loving, sweet,
And receive from us, the strong,—
Be the struggle brief or long,—
Shelter 'mid the dust and heat.
Of this weary, toiling life,
To be gentle, loving, sweet,
And receive from us, the strong,—
Be the struggle brief or long,—
Shelter 'mid the dust and heat.
'T is their right in days of pain,
To calm the fevered brain,
Kind as the gentle rain
Or summer dew;
And to find in us relief
In days of toil and grief,—
Like them, patient, mild, and true.
To calm the fevered brain,
Kind as the gentle rain
Or summer dew;
And to find in us relief
In days of toil and grief,—
Like them, patient, mild, and true.
We yield to them the right
To be witty, brave, and bright,
In repartee to shine;
Better than sparkling toys,
To be mothers to our boys,
Famed for quiet or for noise,
Be the youngsters one or nine.
To be witty, brave, and bright,
In repartee to shine;
Better than sparkling toys,
To be mothers to our boys,
Famed for quiet or for noise,
Be the youngsters one or nine.
'T is their matchless right,—we claim,—
Their glory and their fame,
Not for foreign joys to roam;
But to break the clouds of sadness,
To strew earth's paths with gladness,
To be the sunlight of the home.
Their glory and their fame,
Not for foreign joys to roam;
But to break the clouds of sadness,
To strew earth's paths with gladness,
To be the sunlight of the home.
'T is their right in love to stand,
With tender heart and hand,
And to watch beside the bed,
Till the spirit upward flies;
And down the opening skies,
Like gleams from Paradise,
Heaven's light is round them shed.
With tender heart and hand,
And to watch beside the bed,
118
And down the opening skies,
Like gleams from Paradise,
Heaven's light is round them shed.
'T is their right, with holy feeling,
To be found, all meekly kneeling,
Before the throne of prayer.
'T is there they find their power,—
Grace is their richest dower;
Their dearest rights are there.
To be found, all meekly kneeling,
Before the throne of prayer.
'T is there they find their power,—
Grace is their richest dower;
Their dearest rights are there.
Oh, no, we would not take
One right,—for their dear sake,—
Nor pull their power down;
Theirs to strew the earth with good,
As earth's lords never could,
And then wear Heaven's crown.
One right,—for their dear sake,—
Nor pull their power down;
Theirs to strew the earth with good,
As earth's lords never could,
And then wear Heaven's crown.
Oh, no, we are not wrong,
Say we it in prose, or song!
'T is our pleasure to promote them
To the headship of our table,
To whatever good we 're able;
But we always will outvote them.
Say we it in prose, or song!
'T is our pleasure to promote them
To the headship of our table,
To whatever good we 're able;
But we always will outvote them.
119
DEDICATION HYMN.
CHAMBER OF COMMERCE, BOSTON, JANUARY 21, 1892.
So, the fair structure stands,
The work of human hands
And human will;
Here, where the rippling wave
The sea-sands used to lave,
Soar towers and architrave,
Beauty and skill.
The work of human hands
And human will;
Here, where the rippling wave
The sea-sands used to lave,
Soar towers and architrave,
Beauty and skill.
Here shall fair Commerce sit,
With wisdom, grace, and wit,
The state to bless;
Here land shall speak to land,
And hand be clasped in hand,
And noblest deeds be planned,
In righteousness.
With wisdom, grace, and wit,
The state to bless;
Here land shall speak to land,
And hand be clasped in hand,
And noblest deeds be planned,
In righteousness.
Peace her white wings shall spread
O'er all the paths we tread;
Truth guide our way:
While patriot sire and son
Bends to the work begun,
And new successes, won,
Shall crown the day.
O'er all the paths we tread;
Truth guide our way:
While patriot sire and son
Bends to the work begun,
And new successes, won,
Shall crown the day.
To Thee, great God, to Thee,
God of the land and sea,
These towers we raise;
Establish here Thy throne;
Rule in all hearts alone;
Thy sovereign right we own,
Thy name we praise!
God of the land and sea,
These towers we raise;
Establish here Thy throne;
Rule in all hearts alone;
Thy sovereign right we own,
Thy name we praise!
120
FOR THE DINNER OF THE FIRST CITY GOVERNMENT OF NEWTON, MASS.
BOSTON, FRIDAY, JANUARY 1, 1886.
I suppose I'm the aim of your eloquent battery,
And you wish for my rhymes as the pay for your flattery;
I own it accords with the ways of society,
And humbly I yield to the laws of propriety.
And you wish for my rhymes as the pay for your flattery;
I own it accords with the ways of society,
And humbly I yield to the laws of propriety.
You'll pardon my verse, if 't is undiplomatical,
Not Republican, Mugwump, or pure Democratical;
My calling is not to discussions political,
Nor yours, at a banquet, to be sharply critical.
Not Republican, Mugwump, or pure Democratical;
My calling is not to discussions political,
Nor yours, at a banquet, to be sharply critical.
To raise to a city this place of our habitat,
With aldermen, mayor, common council, and all of that,
Was better than marring the town and dividing it,
Or trotting some hobby out boldly and riding it,—
Making twain what is one by right systematical,
And calling that two which is one, geographical.
For praising it, people may charge us with vanity;
Not praising it, people would call it—insanity.
Our city régime was not sour grapes, pendulous;
But clusters, the fairest, of these we were emulous.
The young city, launched, like a ship on the sea to sail,
Was manned by a crew whose lot never should be to fail;
But, as good men and true need to props and no garnishing,
'T were useless to take up the business of varnishing.
My verse is sincere and hearty in praising them;
The people were wise to such office in raising them.
Fair city! they struck for success in beginning it,
And with every new year their successors are winning it.
It is just to speak well of the people who merit it;
Their praise, it is fair that their sons should inherit it.
They were temperate men, never charged with ebriety,
Whose walk, like a deacon's, was marked by sobriety;
Not ruled by some party end, blindly and slavishly,
Not planning, and fencing, and junketing knavishly;
Not famed, in debate, for their fluent loquacity,
Not noted, in contracts, for grasping rapacity;
Not eager to seek entertainments aquatical;
Not puffed, like balloons, with soaring ecstatical;
Not privily chasing some shadow they 're driving at,
And blind to foresee the ends they 're arriving at;
With their fame nibbled thin, by their secret chicanery,
Like fair ears of corn by a mouse in the granary;
Above playing fast, playing loose with their politics,
Like lobbyists, zealously plying their jolly tricks:
The men for the times,—and the times were a rarity,—
The times and the men were a wonderful parity.
Expenses, 't is true, in the ledger are debited,
But good things unnumbered, per contra, are credited.
So the first city fathers, we'll not rate them badly, sir,
But praise them, and toast them, and honor them gladly, sir.
Your power, good sirs, is a thing of the preterite,
If you did not rule well, 't is too late to better it;
Still, government measures are often a mystery,
But, foolish, or wise,—one year makes them history.
Methinks as we sit here, now eating, now talking fast,
The shades of the fathers are seen grimly stalking past,
Peering here, peering there, with their ancient eyes critical,
Charging this, charging that, as new-fangled, or mystical.
They list to the sound of our steam-engines, clattering;
They hear, in our fountains, the bright water pattering,
They see, in our grounds, fruits and flowers exotical,
And brand our new schemes as insane or quixotical;
Deem some things we do proofs of maddest audacity,
And some,—they must own,—showing highest capacity;
Accusing our speeches of bombast and platitude,
As if lack of depth could be made up in latitude.
O shades of the fathers, suspend your opinions, do,
Or hasten away to your silent dominions, do!
You judge Time's inventions amiss, from not knowing them,
Like men who judge fruits from the seeds, without sowing them;
We know these new things are too good to dispute on, sirs,
And we 're proud of the first city fathers of Newton, sirs.
With aldermen, mayor, common council, and all of that,
Was better than marring the town and dividing it,
Or trotting some hobby out boldly and riding it,—
Making twain what is one by right systematical,
And calling that two which is one, geographical.
For praising it, people may charge us with vanity;
Not praising it, people would call it—insanity.
Our city régime was not sour grapes, pendulous;
But clusters, the fairest, of these we were emulous.
The young city, launched, like a ship on the sea to sail,
Was manned by a crew whose lot never should be to fail;
121
'T were useless to take up the business of varnishing.
My verse is sincere and hearty in praising them;
The people were wise to such office in raising them.
Fair city! they struck for success in beginning it,
And with every new year their successors are winning it.
It is just to speak well of the people who merit it;
Their praise, it is fair that their sons should inherit it.
They were temperate men, never charged with ebriety,
Whose walk, like a deacon's, was marked by sobriety;
Not ruled by some party end, blindly and slavishly,
Not planning, and fencing, and junketing knavishly;
Not famed, in debate, for their fluent loquacity,
Not noted, in contracts, for grasping rapacity;
Not eager to seek entertainments aquatical;
Not puffed, like balloons, with soaring ecstatical;
Not privily chasing some shadow they 're driving at,
And blind to foresee the ends they 're arriving at;
With their fame nibbled thin, by their secret chicanery,
Like fair ears of corn by a mouse in the granary;
Above playing fast, playing loose with their politics,
Like lobbyists, zealously plying their jolly tricks:
The men for the times,—and the times were a rarity,—
The times and the men were a wonderful parity.
Expenses, 't is true, in the ledger are debited,
But good things unnumbered, per contra, are credited.
So the first city fathers, we'll not rate them badly, sir,
But praise them, and toast them, and honor them gladly, sir.
Your power, good sirs, is a thing of the preterite,
If you did not rule well, 't is too late to better it;
Still, government measures are often a mystery,
But, foolish, or wise,—one year makes them history.
122
The shades of the fathers are seen grimly stalking past,
Peering here, peering there, with their ancient eyes critical,
Charging this, charging that, as new-fangled, or mystical.
They list to the sound of our steam-engines, clattering;
They hear, in our fountains, the bright water pattering,
They see, in our grounds, fruits and flowers exotical,
And brand our new schemes as insane or quixotical;
Deem some things we do proofs of maddest audacity,
And some,—they must own,—showing highest capacity;
Accusing our speeches of bombast and platitude,
As if lack of depth could be made up in latitude.
O shades of the fathers, suspend your opinions, do,
Or hasten away to your silent dominions, do!
You judge Time's inventions amiss, from not knowing them,
Like men who judge fruits from the seeds, without sowing them;
We know these new things are too good to dispute on, sirs,
And we 're proud of the first city fathers of Newton, sirs.
123
SACRED, O GOD, TO THEE.
DEDICATION HYMN FOR THE DEDHAM HOME FOR WAIF BOYS.
Sacred, O God, to Thee,
This home of ours,
Its sunny slopes and fields,
Its peaceful bowers;
Sacred, O God, to Thee,
Thine may it ever be,—
Both Thine and ours.
This home of ours,
Its sunny slopes and fields,
Its peaceful bowers;
Sacred, O God, to Thee,
Thine may it ever be,—
Both Thine and ours.
Here may the children learn
To lisp Thy praise;
Here infant hearts grow strong
In wisdom's ways;
All that is evil spurn,
For all true goodness yearn,—
All to Thy praise.
To lisp Thy praise;
Here infant hearts grow strong
In wisdom's ways;
All that is evil spurn,
For all true goodness yearn,—
All to Thy praise.
And let Thy favor rest
On those whose love
Opened this rural home,
Garden, and grove;
As all the good are blest,
Thy blessing on them rest,
Heaven and love.
On those whose love
Opened this rural home,
Garden, and grove;
As all the good are blest,
Thy blessing on them rest,
Heaven and love.
After the weeping May,
Springs a bright June;
After a brief eclipse,
Shines the full moon;
After earth's twilight ray,
Be ours a peaceful day,—
Heaven's glorious noon.
Springs a bright June;
After a brief eclipse,
Shines the full moon;
After earth's twilight ray,
Be ours a peaceful day,—
Heaven's glorious noon.
June 11, 1886.
124
THE CONSECRATION OF A CEMETERY.
[_]
Written June 6, 1857, for the dedication of Newton Cemetery; also sung at dedication of Rose Hill Cemetery, Chicago, Ill.
Deep 'mid these dim and silent shades
The slumbering dead shall lie,
Tranquil as summer evening fades
Along the western sky.
The slumbering dead shall lie,
Tranquil as summer evening fades
Along the western sky.
The whispering winds shall linger here
To lull their deep repose,—
Like music on the dewy air,
Like nightfall on the rose.
To lull their deep repose,—
Like music on the dewy air,
Like nightfall on the rose.
Light through the twining boughs shall shed
Its calm and cheerful ray,
As hope springs from the dying bed
And points to perfect day.
Its calm and cheerful ray,
As hope springs from the dying bed
And points to perfect day.
Around each funeral urn shall cling
The fairest, freshest flowers,—
Emblem of heaven's eternal spring,
And brighter lands than ours.
The fairest, freshest flowers,—
Emblem of heaven's eternal spring,
And brighter lands than ours.
Gathered from thousand homes, the dust
In soft repose shall lie,
Like garnered seed in holy trust
For immortality.
In soft repose shall lie,
Like garnered seed in holy trust
For immortality.
Room for the households! till the morn
Its glories shall restore,
And on the silent sleepers dawn
The day that fades no more.
Its glories shall restore,
And on the silent sleepers dawn
The day that fades no more.
125
CHANGE AND WORK.
PROEM.
As I sat, on “the Fourth,” in the land of the free,
With the banner of freedom above my head waving,
And sang of the bliss which true liberty gives,
And praised the brave men who our blessings are saving,
With the banner of freedom above my head waving,
And sang of the bliss which true liberty gives,
And praised the brave men who our blessings are saving,
A vessel of war sailed down on my lee,
And calmly invited my bark to surrender,
With broadsides of compliments, such as you hear,
When the borrower comes to pay court to the lender.
And calmly invited my bark to surrender,
With broadsides of compliments, such as you hear,
When the borrower comes to pay court to the lender.
I found it was useless to plead for release,
Or in terms of excuse to beseech him for quarter;
What landsman would venture to parry with words,
The shots of an iron-clad craft of the water?
Or in terms of excuse to beseech him for quarter;
What landsman would venture to parry with words,
The shots of an iron-clad craft of the water?
For safety, steer clear of all naval rigs,
Or gun-boats or monitors, frigates or brigs.
My bark to his mercy, I chose to surrender,—
“Lady Muse” is her name; of course he'll defend her.
Or gun-boats or monitors, frigates or brigs.
My bark to his mercy, I chose to surrender,—
“Lady Muse” is her name; of course he'll defend her.
So, here, Mr. Briggs, is your poem on “work;”
I could n't refuse it, you good-natured Turk;
You 're a despot of learning, and in power to-day;
So be absolute monarch, and have your own way!
I could n't refuse it, you good-natured Turk;
You 're a despot of learning, and in power to-day;
So be absolute monarch, and have your own way!
126
POEM.
In nursery, college, work, fashion, and art;
In country and city, in village and mart;
In trade and mechanics, on land and on sea;
In climes ruled by despots, or ruled by the free;
Where flashes the flame of war's lurid glare;
Where wave the sweet banners of peace on the air;
In tropical heat, in the teeth of the cold,
With the youthful and fair, the wrinkled and old;
In circles polite, with the rough honest seamen;
In London, Berlin, Caffreland, and Van Dieman,—
It reigns over all, with a merciless sceptre,
Since Eve took the fruit,—O, had Adam but kept her,
Through grace, this great tyrant one triumph had lost,
And Earth's first temptation no sorrow had cost.
In country and city, in village and mart;
In trade and mechanics, on land and on sea;
In climes ruled by despots, or ruled by the free;
Where flashes the flame of war's lurid glare;
Where wave the sweet banners of peace on the air;
In tropical heat, in the teeth of the cold,
With the youthful and fair, the wrinkled and old;
In circles polite, with the rough honest seamen;
In London, Berlin, Caffreland, and Van Dieman,—
It reigns over all, with a merciless sceptre,
Since Eve took the fruit,—O, had Adam but kept her,
Through grace, this great tyrant one triumph had lost,
And Earth's first temptation no sorrow had cost.
I sing no new theme; everywhere you shall find it:
No force can resist, no fetters can bind it;
No genius of man can command it away;
No strength but must bow, its nod to obey;
No bribe, no condition, can limit the range
Of that power despotic, ubiquitous,—Change!
No force can resist, no fetters can bind it;
No genius of man can command it away;
No strength but must bow, its nod to obey;
No bribe, no condition, can limit the range
Of that power despotic, ubiquitous,—Change!
It comes in our troubles, our bondage to sever;
Without it would toothache be toothache forever.
It rouses, but calms, the wild billows at sea;
It gathers the storm, but compels it to flee;
Wakes daylight from gloom, and purples each ray
That beams in the west at the setting of day;
Spreads earth in the spring with a mantle of pride;
And whitens and jewels it o'er like a bride,
When the nuts have been cracked by the frosts of October,
And beauty autumnal, grown silent and sober,
Rests under the snow,—fair mantle, but strange,
Wrought to hide like a pall, the triumph of Change!
Without it would toothache be toothache forever.
It rouses, but calms, the wild billows at sea;
It gathers the storm, but compels it to flee;
Wakes daylight from gloom, and purples each ray
That beams in the west at the setting of day;
Spreads earth in the spring with a mantle of pride;
And whitens and jewels it o'er like a bride,
When the nuts have been cracked by the frosts of October,
And beauty autumnal, grown silent and sober,
127
Wrought to hide like a pall, the triumph of Change!
We hate it; we love it, avoid it, or seek.
We praise what endures; yet, with attitude meek,
A change of condition we anxiously woo,—
Convinced 't will be better, if only 't is new.
We praise what endures; yet, with attitude meek,
A change of condition we anxiously woo,—
Convinced 't will be better, if only 't is new.
So begs the fair child, as he runs from his play,
And stands by the side of his grandmother gray,
To see the new volume of pictures just bought,
Of things never seen and of battles ne'er fought,
To turn every leaf, with the hastiest kiss,
In love with the next, impatient of this;
The glance of an instant, enough for his brain;
The scenery must then be shifted again.
The child, like a mirror, reflects but the man,—
Two sizes worked out on the very same plan.
And stands by the side of his grandmother gray,
To see the new volume of pictures just bought,
Of things never seen and of battles ne'er fought,
To turn every leaf, with the hastiest kiss,
In love with the next, impatient of this;
The glance of an instant, enough for his brain;
The scenery must then be shifted again.
The child, like a mirror, reflects but the man,—
Two sizes worked out on the very same plan.
The farmer, uneasy, is weary of toil,
Despises the slow-growing wealth of the soil;
Aspires to be rich in a day without work,
To eat like an alderman, smoke like a Turk.
Leaving turnips and hay, he sells buttons and braid.
He stocks a fine store, plays gymnastics in trade;
Talks wisely of tariffs and duties and laces,
Of cases of goods, and of fraudulent cases;
Drives a fine, fancy horse, buys a costly piano,
And frowns if they say his wealth smells of guano;
Consumes in one year what he gathered in ten,
And must climb from the foot of the ladder again.
Despises the slow-growing wealth of the soil;
Aspires to be rich in a day without work,
To eat like an alderman, smoke like a Turk.
Leaving turnips and hay, he sells buttons and braid.
He stocks a fine store, plays gymnastics in trade;
Talks wisely of tariffs and duties and laces,
Of cases of goods, and of fraudulent cases;
Drives a fine, fancy horse, buys a costly piano,
And frowns if they say his wealth smells of guano;
Consumes in one year what he gathered in ten,
And must climb from the foot of the ladder again.
He thought he should see his broad acres extend;
Have money in plenty, to use and to lend;
Take his wife to the mountains, the sea or the springs;
Wear broadcloth the finest, and costliest rings;
In talk about politics take his full share;
And live, dainty soul, untroubled by care,
In fashion recherché, a life without labor,
Assured of success, like some fortunate neighbor;—
But no farmer grows rich who sets up for a shirk,
Or aims, when turned merchant, to live without work.
Have money in plenty, to use and to lend;
Take his wife to the mountains, the sea or the springs;
Wear broadcloth the finest, and costliest rings;
128
And live, dainty soul, untroubled by care,
In fashion recherché, a life without labor,
Assured of success, like some fortunate neighbor;—
But no farmer grows rich who sets up for a shirk,
Or aims, when turned merchant, to live without work.
The land swarms with men of that gaseous body,
The self-styled élite,—the American shoddy,
Raised up from the shop or the loom, in a day,
By arts reckoned honest, because “it will pay;”
But all things good and great, of human pursuit,
Are of patience and time the slow-growing fruit.
The gourd that grows swiftly, as swiftly may die;
The wealth quickly won, as quickly may fly;
The coral, reared up from the depths of the waves,
Where sea-monsters sport in their dim-lighted caves,
The effort of ages, built, grain upon grain,
Is slowly constructed, but long shall remain.
The self-styled élite,—the American shoddy,
Raised up from the shop or the loom, in a day,
By arts reckoned honest, because “it will pay;”
But all things good and great, of human pursuit,
Are of patience and time the slow-growing fruit.
The gourd that grows swiftly, as swiftly may die;
The wealth quickly won, as quickly may fly;
The coral, reared up from the depths of the waves,
Where sea-monsters sport in their dim-lighted caves,
The effort of ages, built, grain upon grain,
Is slowly constructed, but long shall remain.
So springs, with bright promise, the germ from the shell,
Where, hidden, it lay in its prison-like cell;
And, nurtured by sunlight, by heat, dew, and rain,
It waves on the hill, it smiles o'er the plain;
It drinks every morning the sweet-scented dew,
Still drinking, and growing, and drinking anew;
It bathes in the glory of noon-tide and even,
But slowly matures,—like mortals for heaven.
[OMITTED]
He whom pain cannot conquer, nor hardship can foil,
Grows great by endurance, grows nobler by toil;
And fragrant with good are the paths which he trod,
And grand is his rest in the bosom of God!
Where, hidden, it lay in its prison-like cell;
And, nurtured by sunlight, by heat, dew, and rain,
It waves on the hill, it smiles o'er the plain;
It drinks every morning the sweet-scented dew,
Still drinking, and growing, and drinking anew;
It bathes in the glory of noon-tide and even,
But slowly matures,—like mortals for heaven.
[OMITTED]
He whom pain cannot conquer, nor hardship can foil,
Grows great by endurance, grows nobler by toil;
And fragrant with good are the paths which he trod,
And grand is his rest in the bosom of God!
129
PATRIOTIC EXAMPLES AND INCENTIVES.
THE FATHERS AND THEIR STRUGGLES.
A TRIBUTE TO COLUMBUS.
Westward, brave seaman, sail,
Pressed on by every gale;
God is thy guide!
Westward, and nothing fear;
Westward, thy pathway steer,
Till some new land appear
Beyond the tide.
Pressed on by every gale;
God is thy guide!
Westward, and nothing fear;
Westward, thy pathway steer,
Till some new land appear
Beyond the tide.
Day and night went and came;
Led by God's pillared flame,
All sails unfurled,
The seaman trod the deck,
Fearless of storm or wreck,
When rose a distant speck,—
Lo! the new world!
Led by God's pillared flame,
All sails unfurled,
The seaman trod the deck,
Fearless of storm or wreck,
When rose a distant speck,—
Lo! the new world!
What found he on these shores?
Fair isles and golden stores,—
Riches unknown;
But, fairer still, to be
A land of liberty,
Reaching from sea to sea,—
Freedom's high throne.
Fair isles and golden stores,—
Riches unknown;
But, fairer still, to be
A land of liberty,
Reaching from sea to sea,—
Freedom's high throne.
130
God of the sea and land,
We trace Thy mighty hand;
We own Thy power.
Here set Thy rightful throne;
Make the new world Thine own;
Rule its expanse, alone,
Forevermore.
We trace Thy mighty hand;
We own Thy power.
Here set Thy rightful throne;
Make the new world Thine own;
Rule its expanse, alone,
Forevermore.
October 21, 1892.
AMERICA, THE WESTERN FLOWER.
'T was planted while the wintry winds
Athwart the earth were sweeping,
And deep beneath the snowy crust
The summer flowers lay sleeping.
“Take,” said the sower to the sod,
“The seed I love and cherish;
Though bleak December, I must trust
The grain—survive or perish!”
Athwart the earth were sweeping,
And deep beneath the snowy crust
The summer flowers lay sleeping.
“Take,” said the sower to the sod,
“The seed I love and cherish;
Though bleak December, I must trust
The grain—survive or perish!”
Stern winter round the struggling plant
Sent down, in furious rattle,
Its rain and sleet, its hail and snow,
Like shot and shell in battle.
Sharp was the air, and rough the soil,
The tender rootlets grew in;
And half sent up a verdant sprout,
And half was but a ruin.
Sent down, in furious rattle,
Its rain and sleet, its hail and snow,
Like shot and shell in battle.
Sharp was the air, and rough the soil,
The tender rootlets grew in;
And half sent up a verdant sprout,
And half was but a ruin.
Above the growing plant they stretched
A blue and crimson awning,—
Fair as the brilliant arch on high,
That canopies the dawning,
Relieved with silver stars the blue,
With white, the crimson edging,
The sacred soil with wavy lines,
Like ocean surges, hedging.
A blue and crimson awning,—
Fair as the brilliant arch on high,
That canopies the dawning,
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With white, the crimson edging,
The sacred soil with wavy lines,
Like ocean surges, hedging.
But round the plant, while burning skies
With heat scorched all the garden,
The awning wet with tears like dew,
Stretched by the faithful warden,
Sheltered the flower with stamens dark,
Till, morning's redness breaking,
The foe that watched the flower with hate,
Slept, and knew no awaking.
With heat scorched all the garden,
The awning wet with tears like dew,
Stretched by the faithful warden,
Sheltered the flower with stamens dark,
Till, morning's redness breaking,
The foe that watched the flower with hate,
Slept, and knew no awaking.
And in the fragrant, sunlit air,
Around the nations breathing,
First in the circle of delights
The world's fair Eden wreathing,
Smiles the bright blossom, sweeter far
Than flowers of Eastern story,
Watered with tears and blood, and reared
To be a people's glory.
Around the nations breathing,
First in the circle of delights
The world's fair Eden wreathing,
Smiles the bright blossom, sweeter far
Than flowers of Eastern story,
Watered with tears and blood, and reared
To be a people's glory.
The seed was sown when pilgrim feet
On Plymouth Rock descended;
And watered, when the sires and sons
Their tears and labors blended;
And scorched by drought when conflict drove
Its plough of desolation;
And waved in glory, when, like flowers,
Bloomed here, a new-born nation.
On Plymouth Rock descended;
And watered, when the sires and sons
Their tears and labors blended;
And scorched by drought when conflict drove
Its plough of desolation;
And waved in glory, when, like flowers,
Bloomed here, a new-born nation.
132
THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
IN MEMORY OF THEIR LANDING UPON PLYMOUTH ROCK ON THE 21st DAY OF DECEMBER, 1620.
They left old England's cultured homes,
Its broad green fields, its sunny skies,
Its tall cathedral-spires and domes,
As the first pair left Paradise.
Its broad green fields, its sunny skies,
Its tall cathedral-spires and domes,
As the first pair left Paradise.
They found a forest, wild and bleak,
Cold, threatening skies and frozen sod,—
Brave noble souls, resolved to seek
Deliverance from the oppressor's rod.
Cold, threatening skies and frozen sod,—
Brave noble souls, resolved to seek
Deliverance from the oppressor's rod.
They left the dear ancestral shrines,
The altars where their fathers bowed,
Graves where their hallowed dust reclines,
The fields they reaped, the hills they ploughed.
The altars where their fathers bowed,
Graves where their hallowed dust reclines,
The fields they reaped, the hills they ploughed.
They found a stormy, cheerless coast,
Swept by fierce winds and savage men;
Nature's rude growth, the heathen's boast;
The rockbound shores, the wild beast's den.
Swept by fierce winds and savage men;
Nature's rude growth, the heathen's boast;
The rockbound shores, the wild beast's den.
Yet came they fearless, bold, and brave,—
Not theirs to bow to men the knee,
Unfettered as the ocean wave,—
God's freemen, whom the truth made free.
Not theirs to bow to men the knee,
Unfettered as the ocean wave,—
God's freemen, whom the truth made free.
The wintry forests' dim defiles
Woke, their triumphant psalms to hear,
And rocks, and hills, and distant isles
Echoed their pilgrim-hymns of cheer.
Woke, their triumphant psalms to hear,
And rocks, and hills, and distant isles
Echoed their pilgrim-hymns of cheer.
133
O wise to plan, O justly famed!
O strong in patient faith to wait!
These are the noble sires who framed
And built New England's early state.
O strong in patient faith to wait!
These are the noble sires who framed
And built New England's early state.
TEA-DRINKING.
AN AMERICAN BALLAD.
“Good-morning, Ma'am, I come to bring
From mother, Mrs. B.,
Her compliments, and ask you down,
To take a cup of tea.
From mother, Mrs. B.,
Her compliments, and ask you down,
To take a cup of tea.
“Do come!” aside “('T is such a fuss
To have one's friends to tea,
Ma wants to have it over with.)
Come early,—say, by three.”
To have one's friends to tea,
Ma wants to have it over with.)
Come early,—say, by three.”
Now Mrs. B. was bound to have
A little talk, you know;
And Mrs. A. was bound to tell
Her thoughts,—just so and so.
A little talk, you know;
And Mrs. A. was bound to tell
Her thoughts,—just so and so.
A tax, dear Mrs. B. resolved
O'er Mrs. A. to come,—
“Bring threepence with you, Mrs. A.”
“Yes, but I won't be dumb.”
O'er Mrs. A. to come,—
“Bring threepence with you, Mrs. A.”
“Yes, but I won't be dumb.”
“You shall!” “I won't,” said Mrs. A.,
“I'll speak my mind, I will!”
“You sha'n't,” said Mrs. B., “you sha'n't;
But bring the pennies still.”
“I'll speak my mind, I will!”
“You sha'n't,” said Mrs. B., “you sha'n't;
But bring the pennies still.”
134
And so the gentle ladies talked,
Full of rare pluck and ire,
Till words, condensed, were changed to deeds,
And tea distilled in fire.
Full of rare pluck and ire,
Till words, condensed, were changed to deeds,
And tea distilled in fire.
“You 're a side-issue, Mrs. A.”
“You 're ditto, Mrs B.”
So Father Adam used to say,
Petting with Mother Eve.
“You 're ditto, Mrs B.”
So Father Adam used to say,
Petting with Mother Eve.
“Whether a side-issue or not,
I think, at last, you'll see
There 's something brewing, red as blood,
Coiled in a cup of tea.”
I think, at last, you'll see
There 's something brewing, red as blood,
Coiled in a cup of tea.”
Then Mrs. A. a feast announced,
Long since, we well remember,
In Boston, near a famous wharf,
One still night in December.
Long since, we well remember,
In Boston, near a famous wharf,
One still night in December.
She hired some red-skinned caterers,
Who lived beside the sea,
To heat the water, and prepare
A real strong cup of tea.
Who lived beside the sea,
To heat the water, and prepare
A real strong cup of tea.
Now Mrs. B. stood near, and leaned
On Mr. Gage's arm,—
“I hope this party may not lead,”
She said, “to any harm.”
On Mr. Gage's arm,—
“I hope this party may not lead,”
She said, “to any harm.”
“Why, Mrs. A.,” at length, she said,
“Tea only, and no cakes!”
“I have some cake in Concord, Ma'am,
I 've stored it for your sakes.”
“Tea only, and no cakes!”
“I have some cake in Concord, Ma'am,
I 've stored it for your sakes.”
135
“Then bring it on!” “I won't.” “You shall!”
“Go take it, if you can!
Lord Percy, at his peril, tries,
Or any other man.”
“Go take it, if you can!
Lord Percy, at his peril, tries,
Or any other man.”
An old conundrum asks, I think,
Pray tell me, do you see,—
“Why is it, sir, that living men
Sometimes are just like tea?”
Pray tell me, do you see,—
“Why is it, sir, that living men
Sometimes are just like tea?”
“I'm poor at guessing; ask, I pray,
Old England's honored daughter,—”
“Because their worth is best revealed
When plunged into hot water.”
Old England's honored daughter,—”
“Because their worth is best revealed
When plunged into hot water.”
And Mrs. B., a noble dame,
At last grew proud to own
Dear Mrs. A.,—who stoutly spurned
To bow to Britain's throne.
At last grew proud to own
Dear Mrs. A.,—who stoutly spurned
To bow to Britain's throne.
And Mrs. B. sent up her boys,
Who soon marched down again;
They hurried back to Boston town,
Wiser, but fewer men.
Who soon marched down again;
They hurried back to Boston town,
Wiser, but fewer men.
A little quarrel then arose,
Dear Mrs. A. and B.—
Such pulling caps! such burning words!
“You shall!” “I won't!” “You'll see!”
Dear Mrs. A. and B.—
Such pulling caps! such burning words!
“You shall!” “I won't!” “You'll see!”
'T was fourth July, when Mrs. A.
Her pretty foot set down,
And said, “Now mark me, Mrs. B.,
I'll brook nor kings, nor crown.”
Her pretty foot set down,
And said, “Now mark me, Mrs. B.,
I'll brook nor kings, nor crown.”
136
The bands were cut. A. shouted, “Free!”
B. said, “Amen!” but missed her;
Compelled to yield, she nobly cried,
“Dear A., thou art my sister!”
B. said, “Amen!” but missed her;
Compelled to yield, she nobly cried,
“Dear A., thou art my sister!”
With tears of love and clasping hands,
One blue arch bending o'er us,
One bright, broad sea, that binds the land
Behind, to land before us.
One blue arch bending o'er us,
One bright, broad sea, that binds the land
Behind, to land before us.
Alike in faith, alike in speech,
Nursed on one parent knee,
We 're hasting o'er this watery track,
To drink that cup of tea.
Nursed on one parent knee,
We 're hasting o'er this watery track,
To drink that cup of tea.
And while the fragrant fumes ascend,
Like mists above the sea,
Each land, to the same tune shall sing,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
Like mists above the sea,
Each land, to the same tune shall sing,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
Britain the music shall provide,
The mother land which lures us;
And we will bring the hearty words,—
One soul, one ringing chorus.
The mother land which lures us;
And we will bring the hearty words,—
One soul, one ringing chorus.
Steamer “Parthia” on the Atlantic Ocean,
July 4, 1875.
137
PAUL REVERE'S RIDE.
Hang out the lantern! Let oppression quail!
The pen of history shall record the tale;
A feeble taper, flashing o'er the sea,
But the first signal light of liberty.
The pen of history shall record the tale;
A feeble taper, flashing o'er the sea,
But the first signal light of liberty.
Hang out the lantern! Veiled by friendly night,
A watchful horseman waits, to catch the light,
Then warn the sleeping people, far and near;
Who is the patriot rider? Paul Revere.
A watchful horseman waits, to catch the light,
Then warn the sleeping people, far and near;
Who is the patriot rider? Paul Revere.
Ride on! Ride on! O valiant horseman! Wake
Fathers and sons a stern defence to make,
Armed with brave hands and hearts, resolved to be,
Through Heaven's behest, a nation of the free.
Fathers and sons a stern defence to make,
Armed with brave hands and hearts, resolved to be,
Through Heaven's behest, a nation of the free.
The foemen started bravely on their way,
But found the freemen ready for the fray,
Waiting their coming,—men who knew no fear,
Prepared for battle!—roused by Paul Revere.
But found the freemen ready for the fray,
Waiting their coming,—men who knew no fear,
Prepared for battle!—roused by Paul Revere.
High thoughts, strong souls, firm wills then showed their power;
Then Independence struck the nation's hour.
The patriots won the day! and Percy's men,
Conquered and broken, sought their camps again.
Then Independence struck the nation's hour.
The patriots won the day! and Percy's men,
Conquered and broken, sought their camps again.
The feeble lantern in the belfry hung,
With flickering rays o'er the still water's flung,—
A central sun, that nevermore declines,—
Still round the world, a radiant signal, shines.
With flickering rays o'er the still water's flung,—
A central sun, that nevermore declines,—
Still round the world, a radiant signal, shines.
138
Strong men, great hearts, the stirring times required,
With matchless zeal and fervent purpose fired,
But none more grandly served the cause so dear,
Than the brave patriot rider, Paul Revere.
With matchless zeal and fervent purpose fired,
But none more grandly served the cause so dear,
Than the brave patriot rider, Paul Revere.
Old North Church, Boston,
April 18, 1894.
PATRIOT'S DAY.
APRIL 19, 1775.
Praise to the brave and true!
Men prompt to dare and do,—
To do, or die;
Blazoned on history's page,
Men for their stormy age,
Fearless the fight to wage,
Scorning to fly.
Men prompt to dare and do,—
To do, or die;
Blazoned on history's page,
Men for their stormy age,
Fearless the fight to wage,
Scorning to fly.
They, with prophetic eye,
Saw, through the lurid sky,
The goal they sought,—
A nation of the free,
A land of liberty,
Stretching from sea to sea,—
O glorious thought!
Saw, through the lurid sky,
The goal they sought,—
A nation of the free,
A land of liberty,
Stretching from sea to sea,—
O glorious thought!
They hailed the coming state,
Patient to toil and wait,
Suffered and bled;
Death strode o'er hill and plain;
With hunger, cold, and pain;
Hope rose, to sink again,
Till years had fled.
Patient to toil and wait,
Suffered and bled;
139
With hunger, cold, and pain;
Hope rose, to sink again,
Till years had fled.
But forward, onward still,
They of the iron will
Pressed, undismayed.
A nation's love they claim;
Born to immortal fame,
What lustre lights each name,
Never to fade!
They of the iron will
Pressed, undismayed.
A nation's love they claim;
Born to immortal fame,
What lustre lights each name,
Never to fade!
Hail, patriots! whose brave hands
Over these fair, free lands
Their flag unfurled;
Men, by all times admired,
To noble deeds inspired,
By whom “the shot” was fired,
“Heard round the world.”
Over these fair, free lands
Their flag unfurled;
Men, by all times admired,
To noble deeds inspired,
By whom “the shot” was fired,
“Heard round the world.”
O sons of noble sires,
Who, amid war's dread fires,
To triumph rode!
Proud of the deeds they wrought,
With countless blessings fraught,
Cherish the land they bought,—
The gift of God.
Who, amid war's dread fires,
To triumph rode!
Proud of the deeds they wrought,
With countless blessings fraught,
Cherish the land they bought,—
The gift of God.
April 19, 1894.
140
INDEPENDENCE DAY, JULY 4, 1776.
Auspicious morning, hail!
Voices from hill and vale
Thy welcome sing:
Joy on thy dawning breaks;
Each heart that joy partakes,
While cheerful music wakes,
Its praise to bring.
Voices from hill and vale
Thy welcome sing:
Joy on thy dawning breaks;
Each heart that joy partakes,
While cheerful music wakes,
Its praise to bring.
When on the tyrant's rod
Our patriot fathers trod,
And dared be free;
'T was not in burning zeal,
Firm nerves, and hearts of steel,
Our country's joy to seal,
But, Lord, in Thee.
Our patriot fathers trod,
And dared be free;
'T was not in burning zeal,
Firm nerves, and hearts of steel,
Our country's joy to seal,
But, Lord, in Thee.
Thou, as a shield of power,
In battle's awful hour,
Didst round us stand;
Our hopes were in Thy throne;
Strong in Thy might alone,
By Thee our banners shone,
God of our land!
In battle's awful hour,
Didst round us stand;
Our hopes were in Thy throne;
Strong in Thy might alone,
By Thee our banners shone,
God of our land!
Long o'er our native hills,
Long by our shaded rills,
May Freedom rest!
Long may our shores have peace,
Our flag grace every breeze,
Our ships, the distant seas,
From east to west!
Long by our shaded rills,
May Freedom rest!
Long may our shores have peace,
Our flag grace every breeze,
Our ships, the distant seas,
From east to west!
141
Peace on this day abide,
From morn till even-tide;
Wake, tuneful song;
Melodious accents raise.
Let every heart, with praise,
Bring high and grateful lays,
Rich, full, and strong.
From morn till even-tide;
Wake, tuneful song;
Melodious accents raise.
Let every heart, with praise,
Bring high and grateful lays,
Rich, full, and strong.
Onward the echo floats;
Sublime and swelling notes
On the air sail;
From fearless hearts and free,
The lofty minstrelsy
Rises, O God, to Thee
Hail, Freedom, hail!
Sublime and swelling notes
On the air sail;
From fearless hearts and free,
The lofty minstrelsy
Rises, O God, to Thee
Hail, Freedom, hail!
THE CHILDREN'S INDEPENDENCE DAY.
Hark! Music wakes
Among the mountains,
And thunder breaks
Along the fountains;
Each river bank is gay with flowers,
More bright than rainbows in the showers.
Among the mountains,
And thunder breaks
Along the fountains;
Each river bank is gay with flowers,
More bright than rainbows in the showers.
Chorus.
Come, children, bring a cheerful lay,To welcome Independence Day!
142
The banner floats
In beauty shining;
And charming notes,
So sweet combining,
Proclaim 't is Freedom's holy light
That beams on every side so bright!
In beauty shining;
And charming notes,
So sweet combining,
Proclaim 't is Freedom's holy light
That beams on every side so bright!
Chorus.
The temple gates
Ring loud with singing,
While infant mates
Their songs are bringing,
The God of victory to praise,
And swelling notes of triumph raise!
Ring loud with singing,
While infant mates
Their songs are bringing,
The God of victory to praise,
And swelling notes of triumph raise!
Chorus.
We are the young
Of Freedom's nation;
Wake every tongue
In adoration.
Let music float on every breeze;
And whisper praises, all ye trees!
Of Freedom's nation;
Wake every tongue
In adoration.
Let music float on every breeze;
And whisper praises, all ye trees!
Chorus.
This joyful day,
Of glad emotion,
Shall pass away
In sweet devotion
To God who gave our fathers peace,
To joyous friends, and childish bliss.
Of glad emotion,
Shall pass away
In sweet devotion
To God who gave our fathers peace,
To joyous friends, and childish bliss.
Chorus.
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THE FOURTH OF JULY REMEMBERED.
SCHOOL CELEBRATION, JULY 24, 1832.
How brightly shone heaven's holy light,
Along the path our fathers trod!
They girded them to deeds of might,
Depending on the arm of God.
Along the path our fathers trod!
They girded them to deeds of might,
Depending on the arm of God.
So in the guiding cloud by day,
So 'mid the night, in pillared flame,
Did Israel see the chosen way,
Marked by their God, where'er they came.
So 'mid the night, in pillared flame,
Did Israel see the chosen way,
Marked by their God, where'er they came.
Loosed from a foreign monarch's yoke,
The children of the brave and free,
O God, Thy blessing we invoke,
And yield glad homage, Lord, to Thee.
The children of the brave and free,
O God, Thy blessing we invoke,
And yield glad homage, Lord, to Thee.
Our Father, let our happy land
Still smile beneath Thy guardian care;
Let peace be ours, by Thy command,
And health be wafted on the air.
Still smile beneath Thy guardian care;
Let peace be ours, by Thy command,
And health be wafted on the air.
We bless Thee for the joys we know;
We praise Thee for this happy day;
Still guide us, in the paths we go,
And lead us in Thy own right way.
We praise Thee for this happy day;
Still guide us, in the paths we go,
And lead us in Thy own right way.
144
HYMN FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY.
Land of the freemen and home of the brave!
Soil which our fathers have bought with their blood!
Dear is each mountain, rock, river, and grave,
Fields where their feet on Oppression have trod;
Heroes, whose feet on oppressors have trod,
Green are their laurels and honored each grave;
Blest be the soil they have wet with their blood,
Land of the freemen and home of the brave!
Soil which our fathers have bought with their blood!
Dear is each mountain, rock, river, and grave,
Fields where their feet on Oppression have trod;
Heroes, whose feet on oppressors have trod,
Green are their laurels and honored each grave;
Blest be the soil they have wet with their blood,
Land of the freemen and home of the brave!
Peace o'er this land of the happy and free
Folds her fair pinions in loving repose;
Liberty reigns from the sea to the sea;
Freedom, triumphant, exults o'er her foes;
Freedom, triumphant, exults o'er her foes;
Tidings of hope echo far o'er the sea,
Bidding the nations oppressed to repose,
Sheltered by peace, in this land of the free.
Folds her fair pinions in loving repose;
Liberty reigns from the sea to the sea;
Freedom, triumphant, exults o'er her foes;
Freedom, triumphant, exults o'er her foes;
Tidings of hope echo far o'er the sea,
Bidding the nations oppressed to repose,
Sheltered by peace, in this land of the free.
God, our protector, our strength is in Thee,
Strong to deliver, and mighty to save;
Calm each wild tempest that sweeps o'er the sea,
Calm the fierce passions that swell like the wave;
Soothe the fierce tumult that swells like the wave,
Breathe with the whispers of love o'er the sea.
God, we rely on Thy mercy to save;
God, our protector, our strength is in Thee.
Strong to deliver, and mighty to save;
Calm each wild tempest that sweeps o'er the sea,
Calm the fierce passions that swell like the wave;
Soothe the fierce tumult that swells like the wave,
Breathe with the whispers of love o'er the sea.
God, we rely on Thy mercy to save;
God, our protector, our strength is in Thee.
145
THE FATHERS REMEMBERED.
How pure in zeal, how firm in faith,
Sternly the early patriots stood!
Ready to buy, come life or death,
Their freedom at the price of blood.
Sternly the early patriots stood!
Ready to buy, come life or death,
Their freedom at the price of blood.
They scorned in craven fear to bend;
No tyrant power could make them quail;
“Our rights, as freemen, we defend;
Our cause is God's—it cannot fail.”
No tyrant power could make them quail;
“Our rights, as freemen, we defend;
Our cause is God's—it cannot fail.”
Slender in means, in numbers few,
But high in aim and grand in thought;
Nobly they spoke, brave men and true,
And nobler deeds of valor wrought.
But high in aim and grand in thought;
Nobly they spoke, brave men and true,
And nobler deeds of valor wrought.
A century's march, through peace and blood,
Has left their influence still impressed
On all the hills their footsteps trod,
On fields their presence never blessed.
Has left their influence still impressed
On all the hills their footsteps trod,
On fields their presence never blessed.
Our fathers' God, we own Thy power;
Thy mighty fiat made us free.
Our help in that decisive hour,
Still may we put our trust in Thee.
Thy mighty fiat made us free.
Our help in that decisive hour,
Still may we put our trust in Thee.
Windermere, England, May 30, 1876.
146
ODE IN MEMORY OF FRANKLIN.
Old Time rolls by, but gently breathes
On Franklin's glorious fame,
And all its freshest laurel wreathes
Around his honored name.
Bring summer's bloom his brow to adorn,
Bring spring's most gorgeous flowers;
He, with celestial yearnings born,
Made Nature's secrets ours.
On Franklin's glorious fame,
And all its freshest laurel wreathes
Around his honored name.
Bring summer's bloom his brow to adorn,
Bring spring's most gorgeous flowers;
He, with celestial yearnings born,
Made Nature's secrets ours.
Bid the swift lightning write his name
In blue electric fire,
And roaring thunders loud proclaim
Him whom all lands admire.
Stand, patriot, sage, in lasting bronze,
By grateful art enshrined;
Live in ten thousand gathering sons,—
Thy meed, the polished mind.
In blue electric fire,
And roaring thunders loud proclaim
Him whom all lands admire.
Stand, patriot, sage, in lasting bronze,
By grateful art enshrined;
Live in ten thousand gathering sons,—
Thy meed, the polished mind.
The sparkling gift each year revives
Thy high renown again,
Linked with the history of our lives,—
Thy trophies, living men.
So Time rolls by, but gently breathes
On Franklin's glorious fame,
And all its freshest laurels wreathes
Around his honored name.
Thy high renown again,
Linked with the history of our lives,—
Thy trophies, living men.
So Time rolls by, but gently breathes
On Franklin's glorious fame,
And all its freshest laurels wreathes
Around his honored name.
147
THE BIRTHDAY OF WASHINGTON.
Honored and loved, the patriot and the sage,
Born for thy own and every coming age,
Thy country's champion, Freedom's chosen son,—
We hail thy birth-day, glorious Washington.
Born for thy own and every coming age,
Thy country's champion, Freedom's chosen son,—
We hail thy birth-day, glorious Washington.
Nurtured in courage, industry, and truth,
Thy noble childhood, and thy generous youth,
Like spring's sweet blossoms on the sturdy tree,—
Gave early promise of the fruit to be;
And well it ripened, as the years rolled on,
And stood in manhood, glorious Washington.
Thy noble childhood, and thy generous youth,
Like spring's sweet blossoms on the sturdy tree,—
Gave early promise of the fruit to be;
And well it ripened, as the years rolled on,
And stood in manhood, glorious Washington.
Dark was the storm that gathered, far and wide,
When rose in threatening might the oppressor's pride,
And men, brave-hearted, stood in battle strong,
Resolved to avenge the right and smite the wrong.
Fierce was the fight, and many a hero fell;
Green are their laurels, and they earned them well.
Nursed in the lap of hardship, sternly taught
To value great ideas and high, free thought,
With noble sacrifice they staked their all,
To stand with Freedom, or with her to fall;
And many a patriot mother gave her son,
But one alone gave glorious Washington.
When rose in threatening might the oppressor's pride,
And men, brave-hearted, stood in battle strong,
Resolved to avenge the right and smite the wrong.
Fierce was the fight, and many a hero fell;
Green are their laurels, and they earned them well.
Nursed in the lap of hardship, sternly taught
To value great ideas and high, free thought,
With noble sacrifice they staked their all,
To stand with Freedom, or with her to fall;
And many a patriot mother gave her son,
But one alone gave glorious Washington.
Keep ye his memory green; preserve his fame;
Live in his spirit; love his honored name;
Teach lisping childhood how the warrior stood,
A tower of strength 'mid scenes of strife and blood.
Let men and mothers to their infants tell,
How Freedom triumphed and Oppression fell,
When he, the chieftain of the brave and free,
Led on our troops to joy and victory.
No son was his to bear his cherished name,—
No son, thank God! to bring his father shame;
But every patriot is a worthy son,
To bear thy name and title, Washington!
Live in his spirit; love his honored name;
Teach lisping childhood how the warrior stood,
A tower of strength 'mid scenes of strife and blood.
148
How Freedom triumphed and Oppression fell,
When he, the chieftain of the brave and free,
Led on our troops to joy and victory.
No son was his to bear his cherished name,—
No son, thank God! to bring his father shame;
But every patriot is a worthy son,
To bear thy name and title, Washington!
They wear their honors well, these sons of ours,
Trained by fierce fight to show sublimer powers;
Taught like the eagle, when the storm beats high,
With stronger wing to cleave the threatening sky,
And reach through raging winds the cliffs above,
Where dwell serenely liberty and love,
Grow strong, through toil, to bear our banners on,
As he once bore them, glorious Washington!
Trained by fierce fight to show sublimer powers;
Taught like the eagle, when the storm beats high,
With stronger wing to cleave the threatening sky,
And reach through raging winds the cliffs above,
Where dwell serenely liberty and love,
Grow strong, through toil, to bear our banners on,
As he once bore them, glorious Washington!
The storms will pass. The flag, in battle torn,
Will wear new honors, by our sons upborne;
Fast anchored on the Right, a glorious rock,
The cause of Freedom shall not feel the shock
That aims its force against the Ship of State.
Weak billows, vain your vengeance, vain your hate!
More patriot mothers have more sons to send;
More noble hearts have treasures still to spend;
More patriot sinews have more strength to give;
More loving hearts have loving lives to live,—
And Freedom shall not lack a faithful son
To track thy steps, O glorious Washington!
Will wear new honors, by our sons upborne;
Fast anchored on the Right, a glorious rock,
The cause of Freedom shall not feel the shock
That aims its force against the Ship of State.
Weak billows, vain your vengeance, vain your hate!
More patriot mothers have more sons to send;
More noble hearts have treasures still to spend;
More patriot sinews have more strength to give;
More loving hearts have loving lives to live,—
And Freedom shall not lack a faithful son
To track thy steps, O glorious Washington!
149
THE SONS AND THEIR STRUGGLES.
PATRIOT SONS OF PATRIOT SIRES.
The small life, coiled within the seed,—
A promise hid away,—
But dimly heralds what shall be
When comes the perfect day;
But sun, and rain, and frost, and heat
Enrich the fertile fields,
And the small life of earlier years
A waving harvest yields.
A promise hid away,—
But dimly heralds what shall be
When comes the perfect day;
But sun, and rain, and frost, and heat
Enrich the fertile fields,
And the small life of earlier years
A waving harvest yields.
The corn that slumbers in the hill,—
A disk of golden grain,—
Stands up at last, a rustling host,
And covers all the plain;
Who knows to what the infant germ,
In coming seasons, leads,
Or how the golden grain expands,
And mighty armies feeds!
A disk of golden grain,—
Stands up at last, a rustling host,
And covers all the plain;
Who knows to what the infant germ,
In coming seasons, leads,
Or how the golden grain expands,
And mighty armies feeds!
The acorn, in its little cup,
High on the breezy hill,
Waits for the fulness of the times,
Its mission to fulfil,
And year by year grows grand and strong,—
What shall the future be?
A noble forest on the land,
Or navy on the sea.
High on the breezy hill,
Waits for the fulness of the times,
Its mission to fulfil,
150
What shall the future be?
A noble forest on the land,
Or navy on the sea.
The bright-eyed boys, who crowd our schools,
The knights of book and pen,
Weary of childish games and moods,
Will soon be stalwart men;
The leaders in the race of life,
The men to win applause,
The great minds, born to guide the State,
The wise, to make the laws.
The knights of book and pen,
Weary of childish games and moods,
Will soon be stalwart men;
The leaders in the race of life,
The men to win applause,
The great minds, born to guide the State,
The wise, to make the laws.
Teach them to guard with jealous care
The land that gave them birth,
As patriot sons of patriot sires,—
The dearest spot of earth;
Teach them the sacred trust to keep,
Like true men, pure and brave,
And o'er them, through the ages, bid
Freedom's fair banner wave.
The land that gave them birth,
As patriot sons of patriot sires,—
The dearest spot of earth;
Teach them the sacred trust to keep,
Like true men, pure and brave,
And o'er them, through the ages, bid
Freedom's fair banner wave.
This poem was written on the 22d day of February, 1894, as the closing patriotic selection of “Beacon Lights of Patriotism.”
151
THE CINCINNATAE.
[_]
At meeting of the “Woman's Relief Corps, G. A. R.,” in Boston, August, 1890, the author of “America” suggested the organization of a Society similar to that which, under the name of “Cincinnati” represents the “Sons of the Revolution.” The suggestion was entertained, and the following responsive tribute was written upon the occasion.
Rouse to defend the land ye love,
Ye stalwart men and brave;
O'er all its breadth, from sea to sea,
Bid Freedom's banner wave.
Ye stalwart men and brave;
O'er all its breadth, from sea to sea,
Bid Freedom's banner wave.
They heard, they stood, in serried ranks
They marched at Freedom's call;
One hope beat high in every heart,
One thought inspired them all.
They marched at Freedom's call;
One hope beat high in every heart,
One thought inspired them all.
Deep in the furrow where it sank,
The plough, ungeared, stood still,
While broader plans and loftier aims,
Waited the freemen's will.
The plough, ungeared, stood still,
While broader plans and loftier aims,
Waited the freemen's will.
So Cincinnatus bravely led
His Roman soldiers, true;
So, fearless, trod through fields of blood
Our Cincinnati too.
His Roman soldiers, true;
So, fearless, trod through fields of blood
Our Cincinnati too.
And who are these, of finer mould,
With loving heart and hand,
Alert to feel, and quick to help,—
A noble female band?
With loving heart and hand,
Alert to feel, and quick to help,—
A noble female band?
152
These loving hands have waved farewell
To men to glory led;
These loving eyes, with bitter tears,
Have wept o'er soldiers dead.
To men to glory led;
These loving eyes, with bitter tears,
Have wept o'er soldiers dead.
And when the storm of battle ceased,
'T was theirs to weld the chain,
Whose broken links were scattered wide,
In brotherhood again.
'T was theirs to weld the chain,
Whose broken links were scattered wide,
In brotherhood again.
Their loving voices join to swell
The anthem of the free;
Their loving lips, harmonious, sing,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
The anthem of the free;
Their loving lips, harmonious, sing,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
Hail, mothers, daughters, sisters, wives
Of men to freedom true!
The land redeemed is proud to claim
Our Cincinnatae, too.
Of men to freedom true!
The land redeemed is proud to claim
Our Cincinnatae, too.
THE DAUGHTERS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
[_]
Written at the request of Mrs. Edward Roby, of Chicago, on the gift of an autograph copy of the hymn “America,” to Miss Eugenie Washington, a grand-niece of General Washington, in connection with the First Congress of the Daughters of the American Revolution, held in the City of Washington, June, 1892.
They gathered from the south and north,
The mountains and the sea,
In memory of the men who died,
Martyrs of liberty,—
Men pledged to plant, in this fair land,
A nation of the free;
The mountains and the sea,
In memory of the men who died,
Martyrs of liberty,—
Men pledged to plant, in this fair land,
A nation of the free;
153
Who gave their wealth, who gave their blood,
And gave them not in vain;
And history spreads its halo round
Where rest the patriot slain.
Where Freedom's glorious spirit throbbed,
That spirit throbs again.
And gave them not in vain;
And history spreads its halo round
Where rest the patriot slain.
Where Freedom's glorious spirit throbbed,
That spirit throbs again.
The harvest sown in blood and tears
A grateful nation reaps;
A hallowed jubilee of love
The land they rescued keeps,
And o'er the green fields where they died
Its fragrant tribute heaps.
A grateful nation reaps;
A hallowed jubilee of love
The land they rescued keeps,
And o'er the green fields where they died
Its fragrant tribute heaps.
From east to west, from south to north,
From tossing sea to sea,
They breathe, in tones that love inspires,
“Sweet land of liberty,”
Singing, in joyful harmony,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
From tossing sea to sea,
They breathe, in tones that love inspires,
“Sweet land of liberty,”
Singing, in joyful harmony,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
The daughters of the good and brave
Shall keep their memory well;
And age to youth, and sire to son,
The grand old tale shall tell;
And woman's tears shall consecrate
The rich fields where they fell.
Shall keep their memory well;
And age to youth, and sire to son,
The grand old tale shall tell;
And woman's tears shall consecrate
The rich fields where they fell.
I see them where above them bends
The one o'er-arching sky;
I hear the tune from Northern throats,
I hear the South reply:
One heart, one home, one pulse, one land;
And one, we live or die.
The one o'er-arching sky;
I hear the tune from Northern throats,
I hear the South reply:
One heart, one home, one pulse, one land;
And one, we live or die.
154
Sisters, accept this grateful pledge;
Our hopes, our hearts are one;
Or south, or north, naught shall divide,—
We live beneath one sun.
Peace breathes, in ecstasy of love;
The goal we seek is won.
Our hopes, our hearts are one;
Or south, or north, naught shall divide,—
We live beneath one sun.
Peace breathes, in ecstasy of love;
The goal we seek is won.
Davenport, Iowa, March 4, 1893.
FLING OUT THE BANNER.
Fling out the banner on the breeze,
Shake out each starry fold;
Summon the stalwart soldiers forth,
The mighty and the bold,—
The bell of Freedom from its tower
Its solemn call has tolled.
Shake out each starry fold;
Summon the stalwart soldiers forth,
The mighty and the bold,—
The bell of Freedom from its tower
Its solemn call has tolled.
Marshal the legions for the fight,
The youthful and the brave;
Stand for the noble and the right,
The glorious Union save;
Stand for the cause for which their blood
Our patriot fathers gave.
The youthful and the brave;
Stand for the noble and the right,
The glorious Union save;
Stand for the cause for which their blood
Our patriot fathers gave.
Above the clouds the brilliant sky
Shines in immortal blue;
And light, like Heaven's approving smile,
Streams in its glory through.
Be patient, till the strife is o'er;
Have faith to dare and do.
Shines in immortal blue;
And light, like Heaven's approving smile,
Streams in its glory through.
Be patient, till the strife is o'er;
Have faith to dare and do.
155
Bear on our banner, let it tell
The triumph of the brave;
On every breeze that sweeps our hills,
In glory let it wave,
O'er all the land, o'er all our streams,
O'er every soldier's grave.
The triumph of the brave;
On every breeze that sweeps our hills,
In glory let it wave,
O'er all the land, o'er all our streams,
O'er every soldier's grave.
A year of battles! not in vain
This contest of the free;
This rousing of the nation's heart,
Like storms that rouse the sea,—
The fiery test has but refined
The love of liberty.
This contest of the free;
This rousing of the nation's heart,
Like storms that rouse the sea,—
The fiery test has but refined
The love of liberty.
Then fling the banner to the wind,
The emblem of the free;
Strike the sweet harp-tones that proclaim
The reign of liberty,
And bid the melody rebound
From every trembling key.
The emblem of the free;
Strike the sweet harp-tones that proclaim
The reign of liberty,
And bid the melody rebound
From every trembling key.
And count each star that studs the blue,
Whate'er the past has been,
A wayward wanderer welcomed back
To fill its place again,—
A loving band of sister-lights,
Just like the old thirteen.
Whate'er the past has been,
A wayward wanderer welcomed back
To fill its place again,—
A loving band of sister-lights,
Just like the old thirteen.
Strike not one jewel from the crest
The loving mother wore;
Reset the gems upon her breast,
Each where it shone before;
Clasp in the glorious cynosure
The entire dear thirty-four.
The loving mother wore;
Reset the gems upon her breast,
Each where it shone before;
Clasp in the glorious cynosure
The entire dear thirty-four.
156
WAVE THE FLAG ON HIGH.
Wave the new flag, exultant, o'er the land;
Spread out its folds of beauty toward the sea;
Bid softest winds its blood-bought charms expand;
Hail it with shouts,—the banner of the free!
Spread out its folds of beauty toward the sea;
Bid softest winds its blood-bought charms expand;
Hail it with shouts,—the banner of the free!
Bears it the brilliant stripes of gleaming white?—
Our cause is righteous, and our aim is pure.
Bears it the red?—we battle for the right;
Red blood may flow, but Freedom shall endure.
Our cause is righteous, and our aim is pure.
Bears it the red?—we battle for the right;
Red blood may flow, but Freedom shall endure.
Bears it the blue?—to Heaven, our high appeal
In Christian gratitude and faith we raise;
And every star, a new-made State, shall seal
Our fervent trust in God,—our joyful praise.
In Christian gratitude and faith we raise;
And every star, a new-made State, shall seal
Our fervent trust in God,—our joyful praise.
Count all the stars, the stripes,—both white and red,—
Where'er on sea or land the flag is seen;
They tell how God our growing States has led,—
Stars, thirty-seven, and stripes, the “old thirteen.”
Where'er on sea or land the flag is seen;
They tell how God our growing States has led,—
Stars, thirty-seven, and stripes, the “old thirteen.”
Wave then, fair banner! men may pass away,—
No mind can guess the changes yet to be,—
But thou, in beauty, hold thy blessed way,
Our flag of peace, our symbol of the free.
No mind can guess the changes yet to be,—
But thou, in beauty, hold thy blessed way,
Our flag of peace, our symbol of the free.
157
THE PINE AND THE PALM.
AN ALLEGORY OF 1861–65.
On Northern hills where bleak winds blow,
And crystalled branches twine,
Stood, in its never-fading green,
A strong and stately pine.
The evening came with balmy breath,
And gold and purple dyes;
And glowing noon its heat diffused
From summer's ardent skies;
And tempests roared, with crashing might,—
But little cared the tree,
Rocked by the storms, it sang for joy
Its own sweet minstrelsy.
And crystalled branches twine,
Stood, in its never-fading green,
A strong and stately pine.
The evening came with balmy breath,
And gold and purple dyes;
And glowing noon its heat diffused
From summer's ardent skies;
And tempests roared, with crashing might,—
But little cared the tree,
Rocked by the storms, it sang for joy
Its own sweet minstrelsy.
On sunnier slopes, in milder airs,
In endless summer's calm,
In fragrant beauty towered on high
A graceful, nodding palm;
Proudly it tossed its emerald head,
Wrapped in its haughty scorn,
Like roses in the lovelit bower,
Girt by the bristling thorn.
In endless summer's calm,
In fragrant beauty towered on high
A graceful, nodding palm;
Proudly it tossed its emerald head,
Wrapped in its haughty scorn,
Like roses in the lovelit bower,
Girt by the bristling thorn.
At length the winds grew fierce and loud,
As through the palm they sung,
And reddening clouds around its head
A fiery lustre hung;
An angry cadence on the air
Seemed fitfully to float,
And pine and palm, as if in ire,
With wild, discordant note,
Driven by the tempest, answered each,
In sounds like rushing fire,
As if some demon in his wrath
Had swept his breaking lyre.
As through the palm they sung,
And reddening clouds around its head
A fiery lustre hung;
An angry cadence on the air
Seemed fitfully to float,
And pine and palm, as if in ire,
With wild, discordant note,
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In sounds like rushing fire,
As if some demon in his wrath
Had swept his breaking lyre.
The sound passed on. A wreath of light
Came like a white-winged dove;
Hovered like angels in their flight,
A messenger of love;
Waved its bright form o'er pine and palm,
And touched them as it passed,—
The storm was laid, and notes of love
Came singing on the blast.
Came like a white-winged dove;
Hovered like angels in their flight,
A messenger of love;
Waved its bright form o'er pine and palm,
And touched them as it passed,—
The storm was laid, and notes of love
Came singing on the blast.
The flaming cloud dissolved in air;
It lost its fiery hue,
And quenched the crimson of its cheek
In heaven's immortal blue;
Peace shed again along the hills
Its breath of fragrant balm,—
The waving palm-tree blessed the pine,
The waving pine, the palm.
It lost its fiery hue,
And quenched the crimson of its cheek
In heaven's immortal blue;
Peace shed again along the hills
Its breath of fragrant balm,—
The waving palm-tree blessed the pine,
The waving pine, the palm.
THE MORNING COMETH.
[_]
These verses were written in 1862, under the never-faltering conviction that out of battle-struggle would come a crowning peace which would bind in closer bonds than ever a reconciled and prosperous people.
It IS COMING, it is coming!
As comes the blessed rain,
When the burning heat and dryness
Have scorched the waving grain.
We hail the early promise,—
'T is not in vain to wait;
If the help serves God's great purpose,
It never comes too late.
As comes the blessed rain,
When the burning heat and dryness
Have scorched the waving grain.
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'T is not in vain to wait;
If the help serves God's great purpose,
It never comes too late.
It IS COMING, it is coming,
As comes the blessed dew
On the weary, fainting flowers
When the noon-tide heat is through;
It comes in silent sweetness,
To comfort and to bless,—
We never hear its coming,
But it blesses none the less.
As comes the blessed dew
On the weary, fainting flowers
When the noon-tide heat is through;
It comes in silent sweetness,
To comfort and to bless,—
We never hear its coming,
But it blesses none the less.
It IS COMING, it is coming!
As the giant, rested, wakes,
As o'er the distant hill-tops
The morning redness breaks.
While the soldier on his picket,
His solemn vigil keeps,
The light already glimmers
On the highest rugged steeps.
As the giant, rested, wakes,
As o'er the distant hill-tops
The morning redness breaks.
While the soldier on his picket,
His solemn vigil keeps,
The light already glimmers
On the highest rugged steeps.
It IS COMING, yes, 't is coming!
But, O prophet, poet, when?
We have lavished forth like water,
Our treasure and our men.
We watch the cloudy pillar
That guides our devious way,
And, blinded in the darkness,
God bids our faith delay.
But, O prophet, poet, when?
We have lavished forth like water,
Our treasure and our men.
We watch the cloudy pillar
That guides our devious way,
And, blinded in the darkness,
God bids our faith delay.
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It IS COMING, it is coming!
Love can calm the maddened brain,
And the palm-tree, and the pine-tree,
Interlace their boughs again;
The corn and cotton ripen
For the loyal and the brave,
And free men till the acres
Of a land without a slave.
Love can calm the maddened brain,
And the palm-tree, and the pine-tree,
Interlace their boughs again;
The corn and cotton ripen
For the loyal and the brave,
And free men till the acres
Of a land without a slave.
It IS COMING, it is coming,
Peace o'er all the land shall rest,
With a glory and a beauty
Like evening in the west;
The noon-tide brightness lingers,
But God can give it glow;
The forest sleeps in acorns,
But God can make it grow.
Peace o'er all the land shall rest,
With a glory and a beauty
Like evening in the west;
The noon-tide brightness lingers,
But God can give it glow;
The forest sleeps in acorns,
But God can make it grow.
MEMORIAL HONORS.
Grateful, the pious feast we keep
In memory of the dead;
And, where the valiant soldiers sleep,
Strew honors o'er their bed.
In memory of the dead;
And, where the valiant soldiers sleep,
Strew honors o'er their bed.
As spring-flowers deck the silent earth,
As stars the skies illume,
These loving tributes, lo! we bring
To grace each hallowed tomb.
As stars the skies illume,
These loving tributes, lo! we bring
To grace each hallowed tomb.
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The land they saved their honor keeps,
While dark oppression cowers;
And every tear affection weeps
Is crystalled into flowers.
While dark oppression cowers;
And every tear affection weeps
Is crystalled into flowers.
The deeds they wrought; the truths they sealed;
Their memory, dear in death,—
Are fragrant as the blooming field,
Or summer's perfumed breath!
Their memory, dear in death,—
Are fragrant as the blooming field,
Or summer's perfumed breath!
God of the living and the dead,
Like amaranths on the tomb,
The trust for which their blood was shed
Keep in immortal bloom.
Like amaranths on the tomb,
The trust for which their blood was shed
Keep in immortal bloom.
THE EVE OF DECORATION DAY.
[_]
In the parlor of one of the Daughters of the American Revolution several young ladies sang as they made wreaths for the following day, and these stanzas record the incident.
Sweet in the innocence of youth,
Born of the brave and free,
They wove fair garlands while they sang,
“My country, 't is of thee;”
How every bosom swelled with joy,
And thrilled with grateful pride,
As, fond, the whispering cadence breathed,
“Land where my fathers died.”
Born of the brave and free,
They wove fair garlands while they sang,
“My country, 't is of thee;”
How every bosom swelled with joy,
And thrilled with grateful pride,
As, fond, the whispering cadence breathed,
“Land where my fathers died.”
Fair flowers in sweet bouquets they tied,—
Breaths from the vales and hills,—
While childish voices poured the strain,
“I love thy rocks and rills;”
Each face grew radiant with the thought,
“Land of the noble free;”
Each voice seemed reverent, as it trilled
“Sweet land of liberty.”
Breaths from the vales and hills,—
While childish voices poured the strain,
“I love thy rocks and rills;”
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“Land of the noble free;”
Each voice seemed reverent, as it trilled
“Sweet land of liberty.”
And bud, and bloom, and leaf they bound,
And bade the living keep,
Unharmed and pure, the cherished graves
Where brave men calmly sleep.
And thus while infant lips begin
To lisp “sweet Freedom's song,”
Manhood's deep tones, from age to age,
Shall still “the sound prolong.”
And bade the living keep,
Unharmed and pure, the cherished graves
Where brave men calmly sleep.
And thus while infant lips begin
To lisp “sweet Freedom's song,”
Manhood's deep tones, from age to age,
Shall still “the sound prolong.”
I hailed the promise of the scene;
Gladness was in the strain;
The glorious land is safe, while love
Still swells the fond refrain.
And what shall be our sure defence,
Who guards our liberty?
Not men, not arms alone,—we look,
“Our father's God, to Thee.”
Gladness was in the strain;
The glorious land is safe, while love
Still swells the fond refrain.
And what shall be our sure defence,
Who guards our liberty?
Not men, not arms alone,—we look,
“Our father's God, to Thee.”
DECORATION DAY.
Strew the fair garlands where slumber the dead;
Ring out the strains, like the swell of the sea,—
Heartfelt the tribute we lay on each bed.
Sound o'er the brave the refrain of the free;
Sound the refrain of the loyal and free;
Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed;—
Waves the starred banner from sea-coast to sea,—
Grateful the living, and honored the dead.
Ring out the strains, like the swell of the sea,—
Heartfelt the tribute we lay on each bed.
Sound o'er the brave the refrain of the free;
Sound the refrain of the loyal and free;
Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed;—
Waves the starred banner from sea-coast to sea,—
Grateful the living, and honored the dead.
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Dear to each heart are the names of the brave;
Resting in glory, how sweetly they sleep;
Dewdrops at evening fall soft on each grave,
Kindred and strangers bend fondly to weep,—
Kindred bend fondly and drooping eyes weep
Tears of affection o'er every green grave;
Fresh are their laurels and peaceful their sleep;
Love still shall cherish the noble and brave.
Resting in glory, how sweetly they sleep;
Dewdrops at evening fall soft on each grave,
Kindred and strangers bend fondly to weep,—
Kindred bend fondly and drooping eyes weep
Tears of affection o'er every green grave;
Fresh are their laurels and peaceful their sleep;
Love still shall cherish the noble and brave.
Peace o'er this land, o'er these homes of the free,
Brood evermore with her sheltering wing.
God of the nation, our trust is in Thee;
God, our Protector, our Guide, and our King,
God, our Protector, our Guide, and our King,
Thou art our refuge, our hope is in Thee;
Strong in Thy blessing, and safe 'neath Thy wing,
Peace shall encircle these homes of the free.
Brood evermore with her sheltering wing.
God of the nation, our trust is in Thee;
God, our Protector, our Guide, and our King,
God, our Protector, our Guide, and our King,
Thou art our refuge, our hope is in Thee;
Strong in Thy blessing, and safe 'neath Thy wing,
Peace shall encircle these homes of the free.
PRECIOUS LIVES.
Breathe balmy airs, ye fragrant flowers,
O'er every silent sleeper's head;
Ye crystal dews and summer showers,
Dress in fresh green each lowly bed.
O'er every silent sleeper's head;
Ye crystal dews and summer showers,
Dress in fresh green each lowly bed.
Strew loving offerings o'er the brave,
Their country's joy, their country's pride;
For us their precious lives they gave;
For Freedom's sacred cause they died.
Their country's joy, their country's pride;
For us their precious lives they gave;
For Freedom's sacred cause they died.
Each cherished name its place shall hold,
Like stars that gem the azure sky;
Their deeds, on history's page enrolled,
Are sealed for immortality.
Like stars that gem the azure sky;
Their deeds, on history's page enrolled,
Are sealed for immortality.
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Long, where on Glory's field they fell,
May Freedom's spotless banner wave;
And fragrant tributes, grateful, tell,
Where live the free,—where sleep the brave.
May Freedom's spotless banner wave;
And fragrant tributes, grateful, tell,
Where live the free,—where sleep the brave.
Bridgeport, Conn., 1865.
CHERISHED NAMES.
We wreathe with flowers the peaceful graves,
Where low our fallen comrades sleep;
While sunbeams smile, and verdure waves,
And dews of evening o'er them weep.
Where low our fallen comrades sleep;
While sunbeams smile, and verdure waves,
And dews of evening o'er them weep.
Honored-and loved, each cherished name;
In vain, ye have not lived nor died;
A grateful country keeps your fame,—
A sacred trust,—her joy and pride.
In vain, ye have not lived nor died;
A grateful country keeps your fame,—
A sacred trust,—her joy and pride.
God bless the land ye nobly saved,—
Where'er your blood has left its stain,
Where'er your conquering banners waved,
May peace prevail and Freedom reign.
Where'er your blood has left its stain,
Where'er your conquering banners waved,
May peace prevail and Freedom reign.
OUR FALLEN COMRADES.
Softly, their labors done, the patriots rest,
Honored in life, and in their memory blest:
Living, they earned and won a glorious name;
Dying, they found at once immortal fame.
Spring o'er their relics strews its fragrant flowers,
Smiles in the sunshine, weeps in dews and showers;
And summer spreads its freshest, sweetest bloom,
Green as their memory, o'er their honored tomb.
And Nature wraps around them, where they rest,
The dear old flag, in dyes she loves the best:
Blue, in the starry arch that bends above,
Like mothers bowed to kiss the babes they love;
White, when the earth is mantled o'er with snow,
A bridal honor for the brave below;
And red, when round their couch sweet autumn weaves
A burnished beauty with her fiery leaves.
The glorious banner wraps the rolling year,
And spreads its folds around the sleepers here;
As thousands weep the heroes who have bled,
For each a tear, a blessing on each head.
From granite crypts kind Nature fondly rears
The pillar hewed by love, and wet with tears,
The fitting record of the men who stood
True to the right, 'mid fire and death and blood;
And history writes their names high on her scroll,
Heroes of granite will, but loving soul.
Honored in life, and in their memory blest:
Living, they earned and won a glorious name;
Dying, they found at once immortal fame.
Spring o'er their relics strews its fragrant flowers,
Smiles in the sunshine, weeps in dews and showers;
And summer spreads its freshest, sweetest bloom,
Green as their memory, o'er their honored tomb.
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The dear old flag, in dyes she loves the best:
Blue, in the starry arch that bends above,
Like mothers bowed to kiss the babes they love;
White, when the earth is mantled o'er with snow,
A bridal honor for the brave below;
And red, when round their couch sweet autumn weaves
A burnished beauty with her fiery leaves.
The glorious banner wraps the rolling year,
And spreads its folds around the sleepers here;
As thousands weep the heroes who have bled,
For each a tear, a blessing on each head.
From granite crypts kind Nature fondly rears
The pillar hewed by love, and wet with tears,
The fitting record of the men who stood
True to the right, 'mid fire and death and blood;
And history writes their names high on her scroll,
Heroes of granite will, but loving soul.
Stand, massive record, as the heroes stood,
A tower of strength, when blood cried out for blood.
The names engraven on the rock are thine;
The men who bore them, grateful hearts enshrine.
Dewdrop, and rain, and grateful tear may dry;
But noble deeds, once done, can never die.
Though marble, shattered, may betray its trust,
And pile and column crumble into dust,
Heroic deeds a deathless pile shall raise;
A land redeemed preserves their lasting praise.
Not here alone their monument is reared,
To memory sacred, and by love endeared;
Where'er the oppressed the bonds of sorrow wear,
Wher'er the slave lifts up his humble prayer,
Their high memorial lives, in fetters riven,—
A pile whose base is earth, whose crown is heaven.
These were the men who firm in battle stood;
The men who shrunk not from the flame or flood;
Who gave to Freedom's cause their noblest powers,—
Born for the nation's need, they died for ours.
Weep for their memory!—would they had not died!
Sing for their memory!—'t is the nation's pride.
They bore the toil; they earned the grand eclat;
Proclaim their memory with the glad hurrah!
A tower of strength, when blood cried out for blood.
The names engraven on the rock are thine;
The men who bore them, grateful hearts enshrine.
Dewdrop, and rain, and grateful tear may dry;
But noble deeds, once done, can never die.
Though marble, shattered, may betray its trust,
And pile and column crumble into dust,
Heroic deeds a deathless pile shall raise;
A land redeemed preserves their lasting praise.
Not here alone their monument is reared,
To memory sacred, and by love endeared;
Where'er the oppressed the bonds of sorrow wear,
Wher'er the slave lifts up his humble prayer,
Their high memorial lives, in fetters riven,—
A pile whose base is earth, whose crown is heaven.
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The men who shrunk not from the flame or flood;
Who gave to Freedom's cause their noblest powers,—
Born for the nation's need, they died for ours.
Weep for their memory!—would they had not died!
Sing for their memory!—'t is the nation's pride.
They bore the toil; they earned the grand eclat;
Proclaim their memory with the glad hurrah!
No hostile foot this sacred soil shall tread;
No hostile banner wave above the dead;
No warlike clarion break their sweet repose,
Calm as the dewdrops, resting on the rose,—
But grateful tears their relics shall bedew;
The loved, the brave, the trusted and the true,
Mothers and maidens, gathered round the tomb,
Shall sigh, and sing the soldier's welcome home;
Mourning the fallen,—to their country given,—
With sweet will yielding to the will of Heaven.
“O grief unspeakable!”—yet Faith can see
Rifts in the cloud; “Our country, 't is for thee,”
And thus resigned, with calm and holy trust,
Mother and maiden leave the hallowed dust,
With woman's faithful heart their grief refrain,
Willing to make fresh sacrifice again.
No hostile banner wave above the dead;
No warlike clarion break their sweet repose,
Calm as the dewdrops, resting on the rose,—
But grateful tears their relics shall bedew;
The loved, the brave, the trusted and the true,
Mothers and maidens, gathered round the tomb,
Shall sigh, and sing the soldier's welcome home;
Mourning the fallen,—to their country given,—
With sweet will yielding to the will of Heaven.
“O grief unspeakable!”—yet Faith can see
Rifts in the cloud; “Our country, 't is for thee,”
And thus resigned, with calm and holy trust,
Mother and maiden leave the hallowed dust,
With woman's faithful heart their grief refrain,
Willing to make fresh sacrifice again.
Breathe soft, O winds, around this treasured trust;
Keep, holy earth, this loved and honored dust;
Sing your sweet pæans, birds of varied wing,—
In heaven's free air, let warbled freedom ring.
Keep nightly watch, ye stars, above their bed,
Teaching the living, smiling o'er the dead;
Though hid by tempests, gently still ye shine,
Keeping in heaven's blue field your march divine.
Though clouds may darken, though the tempest lowers,
Heaven keeps its stars unharmed, as we shall ours;
Clouds cannot quench them; God's great word once given,
Their light shall flash again, full in mid-heaven;
And every star that keeps its shining way
Glimmers prophetic of the coming day.
Lift your tall crests, ye trees, in verdant pride,
A hundred storms your sturdy trunks have tried;
Tempests have beat in fury round your head,
But still ye cheer the living, shade the dead.
So when the raging blast has spent its power,
And clouds no more in angry blackness lower,
The nation, saved, shall bloom in peace anew;
Its genial shades the weary pilgrim woo;
Thousands repose beneath each sheltering bough,
Made stronger by the blasts that toss it now;
The anxious watcher mourn no kindred slain;
The soldier seek his home and babes again;
The sword be sheathed, and war's dread tumult cease;
And spotless banners wave in joy and peace.
Keep, holy earth, this loved and honored dust;
Sing your sweet pæans, birds of varied wing,—
In heaven's free air, let warbled freedom ring.
Keep nightly watch, ye stars, above their bed,
Teaching the living, smiling o'er the dead;
Though hid by tempests, gently still ye shine,
Keeping in heaven's blue field your march divine.
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Heaven keeps its stars unharmed, as we shall ours;
Clouds cannot quench them; God's great word once given,
Their light shall flash again, full in mid-heaven;
And every star that keeps its shining way
Glimmers prophetic of the coming day.
Lift your tall crests, ye trees, in verdant pride,
A hundred storms your sturdy trunks have tried;
Tempests have beat in fury round your head,
But still ye cheer the living, shade the dead.
So when the raging blast has spent its power,
And clouds no more in angry blackness lower,
The nation, saved, shall bloom in peace anew;
Its genial shades the weary pilgrim woo;
Thousands repose beneath each sheltering bough,
Made stronger by the blasts that toss it now;
The anxious watcher mourn no kindred slain;
The soldier seek his home and babes again;
The sword be sheathed, and war's dread tumult cease;
And spotless banners wave in joy and peace.
Chicago,—Decoration Day.
BURIAL OF GENERAL GRANT.
Take from our hands, O faithful earth,
And safely keep this treasured trust!
The land redeemed proclaims his worth,
The nation weeps his honored dust.
And safely keep this treasured trust!
The land redeemed proclaims his worth,
The nation weeps his honored dust.
Unnumbered tongues his deeds shall praise;
Unnumbered hearts revere his name;
His crown, a wreath which ne'er decays,
His fame is an immortal fame.
Unnumbered hearts revere his name;
His crown, a wreath which ne'er decays,
His fame is an immortal fame.
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Love hovers round his funeral urn;
A nation's banner o'er him waves,—
So slept the ancient heroes, borne
With regal pomp to honored graves.
A nation's banner o'er him waves,—
So slept the ancient heroes, borne
With regal pomp to honored graves.
Rest, patriot, soldier, calmly rest!
No sound thy deep repose shall break,
Till the day dawn in glory dressed,
Till the immortal morning wake.
No sound thy deep repose shall break,
Till the day dawn in glory dressed,
Till the immortal morning wake.
August 18, 1885.
THE STUDENT SOLDIERS.
HARVARD'S DEAD.
They fought on many a crimsoned field;
They sleep in many a glen;
They marched to glory and to death,
And came not home again:
But Science claims them for her roll,—
Her roll of honored men.
They sleep in many a glen;
They marched to glory and to death,
And came not home again:
But Science claims them for her roll,—
Her roll of honored men.
Some in the sunny days of youth,
And some in ripening age,
Went forth, with valiant hearts and hopes,
To breast the conflict's rage;
And history every name records
On her immortal page.
And some in ripening age,
Went forth, with valiant hearts and hopes,
To breast the conflict's rage;
And history every name records
On her immortal page.
Weep at the shrines where once they knelt,
And where the heroes sleep;
Weep where the funeral pomp proceeds;
At vacant firesides, weep.
When did thy sickle, mighty Death,
So precious harvests reap?
And where the heroes sleep;
Weep where the funeral pomp proceeds;
At vacant firesides, weep.
When did thy sickle, mighty Death,
So precious harvests reap?
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And sing a pæan o'er their dust,
A requiem for the brave;
Sing hymns of cheerful melody
Above each soldier's grave;
In solemn joy, with festal folds,
Let the old banners wave.
A requiem for the brave;
Sing hymns of cheerful melody
Above each soldier's grave;
In solemn joy, with festal folds,
Let the old banners wave.
Freedom on every bloody field,
Through them, new triumphs won;
Her honored wreaths are on the brow
Of every favorite son;
And age is reckoned, not by years,
But deeds of valor done.
Through them, new triumphs won;
Her honored wreaths are on the brow
Of every favorite son;
And age is reckoned, not by years,
But deeds of valor done.
While Fame inscribes ten thousand names
Along her pillared nave,
Of patriot-sons, and sires who sleep
In Glory's star-gemmed grave,
Of all the list fair Science claims
The bravest of the brave.
Along her pillared nave,
Of patriot-sons, and sires who sleep
In Glory's star-gemmed grave,
Of all the list fair Science claims
The bravest of the brave.
January 8, 1864.
AFTER THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL.
And so we hide our dead in silent shade,And hasten back to life, and life's parade;
Plunge into duty, grind in labor's mill,
Till the eye sees not, and the heart is still;
Weep each reverse and shout each victory,
And breathe our benisons, dear flag, on thee.
Living or dying, nation of the free,
Our hopes, our hearts, our lives, are all with thee.
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“SLEEP, COMRADES, SLEEP!”
In thousand shaded valleys,
On thousand sunny hills,
In thousands of still alleys,
Beside the rippling rills,—
Who, who can tell the numbers
Of green graves where they sleep?
But peace breathes o'er their slumbers;
Love shall their ashes keep.
On thousand sunny hills,
In thousands of still alleys,
Beside the rippling rills,—
Who, who can tell the numbers
Of green graves where they sleep?
But peace breathes o'er their slumbers;
Love shall their ashes keep.
Sleep, comrades, in your glory!
Sweet be your honored rest;
Thousands shall tell the story
How ye, your high behest,
Bravely in love fulfilling,
Gave up your lives, to be
A sacrifice most willing,—
The seal of liberty.
Sweet be your honored rest;
Thousands shall tell the story
How ye, your high behest,
Bravely in love fulfilling,
Gave up your lives, to be
A sacrifice most willing,—
The seal of liberty.
Oft as the spring-time, breathing
Sweet odors from fair flowers,
With dewy pearls comes, wreathing
Our bright and peaceful bowers,
We bring the first and fairest,
In honor to the brave,—
The choicest and the rarest,
To deck the soldier's grave.
Sweet odors from fair flowers,
With dewy pearls comes, wreathing
Our bright and peaceful bowers,
We bring the first and fairest,
In honor to the brave,—
The choicest and the rarest,
To deck the soldier's grave.
God of our country, o'er us
Thy shield of glory spread!
Go Thou in love before us;
Direct the paths we tread.
Faithful in every duty,
To us Thy grace be given,
And then, the crowning beauty
Of fadeless wreaths in heaven.
Thy shield of glory spread!
Go Thou in love before us;
Direct the paths we tread.
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To us Thy grace be given,
And then, the crowning beauty
Of fadeless wreaths in heaven.
“LIVING STILL.”
FOR THE CLASS OF 1829.
Broken and bruised, from fields of strife,
A remnant saved retires,—
Few, but still warm with their young life,—
To stir the old campfires;
How many marched with banners gay,
Who now, among the slain,
Sleep their last sleep at setting day,
And come no more again!
A remnant saved retires,—
Few, but still warm with their young life,—
To stir the old campfires;
How many marched with banners gay,
Who now, among the slain,
Sleep their last sleep at setting day,
And come no more again!
We con the old familiar list
Of boys, grown gray-haired men;
Names and old faces, long time missed,
We see them,—boys again.
The ancient roll, whose magic date
Falls pleasant on the ear,
Rich as an argosy, its freight
Grows richer every year.
Of boys, grown gray-haired men;
Names and old faces, long time missed,
We see them,—boys again.
The ancient roll, whose magic date
Falls pleasant on the ear,
Rich as an argosy, its freight
Grows richer every year.
Dear is the roll of fresh young hearts
Which started for the fray,
Eager and strong, their honored parts,
On life's broad field to play.
Fond memory wakes them,—each and all;
We call them, name by name;
Or long to stand, or soon to fall,
They come as erst they came.
Which started for the fray,
Eager and strong, their honored parts,
On life's broad field to play.
Fond memory wakes them,—each and all;
We call them, name by name;
Or long to stand, or soon to fall,
They come as erst they came.
172
While spring-time lingered in our sky,
Some early passed away;
Some, when the sun of life rode high,
And poured his noontide ray;
And some—as autumn fruits, more late,
In mellow ripeness fall—
Fell,—and like watchers at the gate,
The rest await the call.
Some early passed away;
Some, when the sun of life rode high,
And poured his noontide ray;
And some—as autumn fruits, more late,
In mellow ripeness fall—
Fell,—and like watchers at the gate,
The rest await the call.
Unchanged on memory's scroll they live,—
Each face and form we see;
Time, which mars all things, does but give
Our dreams intensity;
Like paintings which old mouldings guard,
Drawn with a master's skill,
Ranged in old catalogues, and starred,
To us they're living still.
Each face and form we see;
Time, which mars all things, does but give
Our dreams intensity;
Like paintings which old mouldings guard,
Drawn with a master's skill,
Ranged in old catalogues, and starred,
To us they're living still.
ON THE ERECTION OF A SOLDIERS' MONUMENT.
Take these choice treasures, gentle earth,
And shield them in thy faithful breast,
Gathered like gems of priceless worth,
And brought among thy dead to rest.
And shield them in thy faithful breast,
Gathered like gems of priceless worth,
And brought among thy dead to rest.
Take this new honor reared in love,
Where sleep the trusted and the brave,
Pointing the mourner's faith above,
To Him who takes, to Him who gave.
Where sleep the trusted and the brave,
Pointing the mourner's faith above,
To Him who takes, to Him who gave.
173
Round this fair shaft let summer leave
Its fragrant airs, at morn and even,
And golden clouds in sunlight weave
Pathways of glory into heaven.
Its fragrant airs, at morn and even,
And golden clouds in sunlight weave
Pathways of glory into heaven.
Again the flag of peace shall float
O'er all the land from sea to sea;
O'er all the land shall swell the note
Of Freedom's final Jubilee.
O'er all the land from sea to sea;
O'er all the land shall swell the note
Of Freedom's final Jubilee.
We build the shrine, we sing the brave,
Yet own how vain are human boasts;
In God alone is power to save,—
Our trust is in the Lord of hosts.
Yet own how vain are human boasts;
In God alone is power to save,—
Our trust is in the Lord of hosts.
Newton, April, 1864.
MEMORIAL HYMN.
The God of battles praise;
Pæans of honor raise,
With heart and song.
God is our shield and tower,
Our strength in danger's hour;
To Him all might and power
And praise belong.
Pæans of honor raise,
With heart and song.
God is our shield and tower,
Our strength in danger's hour;
To Him all might and power
And praise belong.
174
Here, O memorial, stand,—
Here, where the patriot band
Battled so well;
Here, where the nation's pride
The rushing storm defied;
Here, where the true and tried,
Unconquered, fell.
Here, where the patriot band
Battled so well;
Here, where the nation's pride
The rushing storm defied;
Here, where the true and tried,
Unconquered, fell.
Tears for the loved and lost;
Joy for the land which cost
Such sacrifice.
Fond memory, grateful, weeps
Where each dead martyr sleeps,
And love her vigil keeps,—
Love never dies.
Joy for the land which cost
Such sacrifice.
Fond memory, grateful, weeps
Where each dead martyr sleeps,
And love her vigil keeps,—
Love never dies.
Sound, glorious trump of fame,
Salute each honored name,
Praise for the brave:
Tell what high deeds were done,
What triumphs Freedom won,—
God was their help alone,
Mighty to save.
Salute each honored name,
Praise for the brave:
Tell what high deeds were done,
What triumphs Freedom won,—
God was their help alone,
Mighty to save.
THE ILLINOIS NINETEENTH REGIMENT AND CAPTAIN BREMNER.
A song of the Highland Guards,
Souls brave and true,
Born for the times of bitter strife,
When in the balance hung
The nation's life;
And men inspired to dare and do
Resolved to press the conflict through.
Souls brave and true,
Born for the times of bitter strife,
When in the balance hung
The nation's life;
And men inspired to dare and do
Resolved to press the conflict through.
175
A song of the Highland Guards,
Prompt and prepared;
First to espouse the righteous cause,
First rising to defend
The land, the laws,
With patriot hearts and bosoms bared,
What toils they bore! What hardships shared!
Prompt and prepared;
First to espouse the righteous cause,
First rising to defend
The land, the laws,
With patriot hearts and bosoms bared,
What toils they bore! What hardships shared!
A song of the brave Nineteenth,
Noted and known,
With them the noble Highland Guard,
Eager for honor's post,
Kept watch and ward,—
Foremost for deeds of glory done,
For battles fought, for victories won.
Noted and known,
With them the noble Highland Guard,
Eager for honor's post,
Kept watch and ward,—
Foremost for deeds of glory done,
For battles fought, for victories won.
A song for the brave Nineteenth
And Bremner's Band;
Huntsville and Mission Ridge their praise.
How oft they saved the day
In fierce affrays!
Victor and vanquished, hand to hand,
Mighty to fight, or firm to stand.
And Bremner's Band;
Huntsville and Mission Ridge their praise.
How oft they saved the day
In fierce affrays!
Victor and vanquished, hand to hand,
Mighty to fight, or firm to stand.
A song for the brave Nineteenth,—
Calls, loud and long,
Summon the bravest to the front.
“Where is the old Nineteenth?”
Listen! their song!
They muster, prompt to do or die,—
They come! they strike!—The foemen fly!
Calls, loud and long,
Summon the bravest to the front.
“Where is the old Nineteenth?”
Listen! their song!
They muster, prompt to do or die,—
They come! they strike!—The foemen fly!
A song for the brave Nineteenth;
The colors wave
Where shell and shot,—a cruel rain,—
Smite down—once, twice, again—
The true, the brave.
The men who bore the flag may die;
But Bremner waves its folds on high.
The colors wave
176
Smite down—once, twice, again—
The true, the brave.
The men who bore the flag may die;
But Bremner waves its folds on high.
THE TWENTY-FIFTH G. A. R. ENCAMPMENT, 1893.
They came from many a happy home,
Those brave and valiant men,
From palace, cottage, shop, and farm,
From mountain, vale, and glen,
Ready to save the land, or die,
And ne'er return again.
Those brave and valiant men,
From palace, cottage, shop, and farm,
From mountain, vale, and glen,
Ready to save the land, or die,
And ne'er return again.
They learned, in their young life, to love
The anthem of the free;
One theme their childish souls inspired,—
The tale of liberty;
Joyful, their infant lips had sung
“My country, 't is of thee.”
The anthem of the free;
One theme their childish souls inspired,—
The tale of liberty;
Joyful, their infant lips had sung
“My country, 't is of thee.”
They came by thousands, as the tides
Into the harbor pour;
Each brow was set, each stalwart from
The air of purpose wore.
They answered to the call, “We come,
Three hundred thousand more.”
Into the harbor pour;
Each brow was set, each stalwart from
The air of purpose wore.
They answered to the call, “We come,
Three hundred thousand more.”
177
Fearless, they faced the rushing storm,—
Sons of the brave and free;
In summer's heat and winter's chill,
Alike on land and sea,
Their souls were throbbing with the pulse
Of love and liberty.
Sons of the brave and free;
In summer's heat and winter's chill,
Alike on land and sea,
Their souls were throbbing with the pulse
Of love and liberty.
Firm on the fields of mortal strife
In serried ranks they stood,
Patient to bear, patient to wait,
Alike in fire and flood.
“The Union must,—it shall,—be saved
Though it should cost our blood.”
In serried ranks they stood,
Patient to bear, patient to wait,
Alike in fire and flood.
“The Union must,—it shall,—be saved
Though it should cost our blood.”
Some in the bloom of early youth,
Slain in the battle, fell;
Some found again their happy homes,
Where peace and freedom dwell,—
But wreathed as conquerors, or dead,
We love them still,—'t is well.
Slain in the battle, fell;
Some found again their happy homes,
Where peace and freedom dwell,—
But wreathed as conquerors, or dead,
We love them still,—'t is well.
Some with their cherished kindred sleep,
Some in an unmarked grave,
Enriching by their honored dust
The land they died to save;
And wild birds and the sighing wind
Chant requiems o'er the brave.
Some in an unmarked grave,
Enriching by their honored dust
The land they died to save;
And wild birds and the sighing wind
Chant requiems o'er the brave.
O land, the best of all the lands
On which the sun has shone,
The purest, noblest heritage
The sons of men have known,
Still hold thy reign from sea to sea,
In queenly grace, alone.
On which the sun has shone,
The purest, noblest heritage
The sons of men have known,
Still hold thy reign from sea to sea,
In queenly grace, alone.
178
Blest be the men whose fervent faith,
Unwavering, met the gale;
Who passed the storm of war, unscathed,
And live to tell the tale,
Men of our love, our hearts, our hopes,—
Hail, the Grand Army, hail!
Unwavering, met the gale;
Who passed the storm of war, unscathed,
And live to tell the tale,
Men of our love, our hearts, our hopes,—
Hail, the Grand Army, hail!
Peace spreads her angel wings abroad
From sea to distant sea;
O'er all the land one banner floats,
The flag of liberty;
And all her millions swell one strain,—
The chorus of the free.
From sea to distant sea;
O'er all the land one banner floats,
The flag of liberty;
And all her millions swell one strain,—
The chorus of the free.
THE VETERANS.
Sad, but yet glad, our thoughts recall
The days of woe, and blood, and strife,
When thousands rushed, to stand, or fall,
For Freedom and the nation's life,
The days of woe, and blood, and strife,
When thousands rushed, to stand, or fall,
For Freedom and the nation's life,
Hunger and thirst, and leaden hail,
And frost, and heat, and rain, and dew,
And hopes deferred, like springs that fail
In summer's drought, our forces knew.
And frost, and heat, and rain, and dew,
And hopes deferred, like springs that fail
In summer's drought, our forces knew.
The hurried march, the lonely rest;
The trenches where we laid our dead;
The tangled paths our footsteps pressed;
The arms that ached, the feet that bled;
The trenches where we laid our dead;
The tangled paths our footsteps pressed;
The arms that ached, the feet that bled;
179
The picket, on his silent beat;
The foeman's gun with stealthy flash;
The fields where men were mowed like wheat;
The sweeping cannon's deadly crash,—
The foeman's gun with stealthy flash;
The fields where men were mowed like wheat;
The sweeping cannon's deadly crash,—
How vividly they all return,—
Scenes which the soul can ne'er forget!
Like quenchless watch-fires still they burn,—
'T was there that death and glory met.
Scenes which the soul can ne'er forget!
Like quenchless watch-fires still they burn,—
'T was there that death and glory met.
O land we love, united land!
O'er thee one flag of freedom waves;
Living, our hosts one people stand,
And freemen sleep in freemen's graves.
O'er thee one flag of freedom waves;
Living, our hosts one people stand,
And freemen sleep in freemen's graves.
In God we trust,—our fathers' God;
Our people spread from sea to sea;
We hear Thy voice, we heed Thy nod;
Keep us one people, brave and free.
Our people spread from sea to sea;
We hear Thy voice, we heed Thy nod;
Keep us one people, brave and free.
Speak to our hearts in peace and love;
Lead us as by the prophet's rod;
Our honor one, O, let us prove
One land, one people, for one God!
Lead us as by the prophet's rod;
Our honor one, O, let us prove
One land, one people, for one God!
May 24, 1891.
180
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
[_]
This Memorial Poem was written for the Twentieth Anniversary of the death of President Lincoln, Springfield, Illinois, April 15th, 1885.
Heroic statesman, hail!
Thy honored name,
With instrument and song, we laud,
And poets lays;
How every mountain top, and sheltered vale,
And rock and stream,
And lisping tongue of infancy and age,
And manhood's prime and woman's love,
Combine thy honored name to praise!
Thy honored name,
With instrument and song, we laud,
And poets lays;
How every mountain top, and sheltered vale,
And rock and stream,
And lisping tongue of infancy and age,
And manhood's prime and woman's love,
Combine thy honored name to praise!
As to Anchises' tomb,
With reverent love, pious Æneas came,
Intent, with festal rites
To crown his father's fame,—
So we, with grateful reverence, come to pay
This loving tribute at the sacred shrine,
The statesman wise, the martyr prince,
The peerless man,
And on his tomb our fragrant garlands lay.
With reverent love, pious Æneas came,
Intent, with festal rites
To crown his father's fame,—
So we, with grateful reverence, come to pay
This loving tribute at the sacred shrine,
The statesman wise, the martyr prince,
The peerless man,
And on his tomb our fragrant garlands lay.
Like the wild eagle's flight,
When from his rocky height,
Down on the plain he swoops, free as the air,—
Born with a soul of fire,
Born to be free,
Patient in toil, and danger, and alarm,
He ventured all for love of liberty,
And helped the lowly in that bliss to share.
When from his rocky height,
Down on the plain he swoops, free as the air,—
Born with a soul of fire,
Born to be free,
Patient in toil, and danger, and alarm,
He ventured all for love of liberty,
And helped the lowly in that bliss to share.
181
Grandly he loved and lived;
Not his own age alone
Bears the proud impress of his sovereign mind.
Down the long march of history,
Ages and men shall see
What one great soul can be,
What one great soul can do,
To make a nation true,—
To raise the weak,
The lost to seek,
To be a ruler and a father too;
No scheming tool,
No slave to godless rule,
Gracious, efficient, meek, sublime, refined.
Not his own age alone
Bears the proud impress of his sovereign mind.
Down the long march of history,
Ages and men shall see
What one great soul can be,
What one great soul can do,
To make a nation true,—
To raise the weak,
The lost to seek,
To be a ruler and a father too;
No scheming tool,
No slave to godless rule,
Gracious, efficient, meek, sublime, refined.
Ambitious,—not of wealth,
Nor power, nor place;
His aim, a nobler race;
His title eminent,—An honest man.
His, to lift up the rude;
His, to be great as good,
And good as great;
His, to stem error's flood;
His, but to help and bless;
His, to work righteousness,
And save the state.
Nor power, nor place;
His aim, a nobler race;
His title eminent,—An honest man.
His, to lift up the rude;
His, to be great as good,
And good as great;
His, to stem error's flood;
His, but to help and bless;
His, to work righteousness,
And save the state.
Brave, self-reliant, wise,
Calm in emergencies,
Steady, alike, to wait, and prompt to move;
In counsel, great and safe;
Prudent to plan;
Righteous to deal with sin;
Prone, less to force than win;
Strong in his own stern will, and strong in God;
Conquering, alone, to bless,—
A loving man.
Calm in emergencies,
Steady, alike, to wait, and prompt to move;
In counsel, great and safe;
Prudent to plan;
Righteous to deal with sin;
Prone, less to force than win;
182
Conquering, alone, to bless,—
A loving man.
Firm, but yet merciful;
In pity bountiful;
Calmly considerate, serenely just;
Nobly forgiving to the fallen foe,—
He, the meek sufferer from Oppression's blow,
Repaying ill with good,
E'en as the sandal-wood
Bathes with rare perfume the sharp axe that smites;
Unflinching for the right,
Whate'er might come,
And, until death,
Fervent, decided, faithful to his trust.
In pity bountiful;
Calmly considerate, serenely just;
Nobly forgiving to the fallen foe,—
He, the meek sufferer from Oppression's blow,
Repaying ill with good,
E'en as the sandal-wood
Bathes with rare perfume the sharp axe that smites;
Unflinching for the right,
Whate'er might come,
And, until death,
Fervent, decided, faithful to his trust.
Great souls can never die:
Death and decay's damp fingers
Waste but the mortal;
A nobler life spreads its far vista wide,
Beyond death's portal.
Like an unfading light
The life work lingers.
The hero dies; statesman and soldier fall;
The nation finds new life,
And prosperous years, and wealth, and peace,
And hearts at rest, and grander aims,
And righteousness,
And souls that dare to be,
Just as God made them,—free;
And he who falls, crushed in the bitter strife,
Lives magnified, exalted, ever lives;
His work bears fruit immortal.
Death and decay's damp fingers
Waste but the mortal;
A nobler life spreads its far vista wide,
Beyond death's portal.
Like an unfading light
The life work lingers.
The hero dies; statesman and soldier fall;
The nation finds new life,
And prosperous years, and wealth, and peace,
And hearts at rest, and grander aims,
And righteousness,
And souls that dare to be,
Just as God made them,—free;
And he who falls, crushed in the bitter strife,
Lives magnified, exalted, ever lives;
His work bears fruit immortal.
183
So the great sun, majestic, ploughs his way
Through clouds, and storms, and dim eclipse,
And winter's cold and summer's heat;
And, nightly, dips
His flaming disc in the broad western sea,
But scatters light and blessing all the day.
Setting, he leaves the world
Richer and better for his light and love;
Warmer, more fertile, more benign;
Sets, but to rise, on other lands, and shine
Forever, in the galaxy divine.
Through clouds, and storms, and dim eclipse,
And winter's cold and summer's heat;
And, nightly, dips
His flaming disc in the broad western sea,
But scatters light and blessing all the day.
Setting, he leaves the world
Richer and better for his light and love;
Warmer, more fertile, more benign;
Sets, but to rise, on other lands, and shine
Forever, in the galaxy divine.
Springfield, Ill.
A CENTURY HYMN. 1789–1889.
[_]
This Hymn was written to be sung at the Celebration of the 100th Anniversary of the Inauguration of Washington as President of the United States,—April 30, 1889.
Strengthened and trained by toil and tears,
Born of the bold, the brave and free,
A nation, with its hundred years,
Its tribute brings, O God, to Thee.
Born of the bold, the brave and free,
A nation, with its hundred years,
Its tribute brings, O God, to Thee.
What blessings, from Thy sovereign hand,
What trials, has the century brought!
How has this free and glorious land
Been loved, defended, led, and taught!
What trials, has the century brought!
How has this free and glorious land
Been loved, defended, led, and taught!
Our cautious feet, by night, by day,
Slowly the upward path have trod;
God was our light, and God our stay,
In flood and fire, in grief and blood.
Slowly the upward path have trod;
God was our light, and God our stay,
In flood and fire, in grief and blood.
184
So the brave oak, in calm and storm,
Spreads its strong roots and boughs abroad,
Grows grand in grace, and stalwart form,
Honored of men, and loved of God.
Spreads its strong roots and boughs abroad,
Grows grand in grace, and stalwart form,
Honored of men, and loved of God.
The century ends,—our hosts in peace
Hold the broad land, from sea to sea;
And every tongue, and every breeze
Breathes the sweet anthem of the free.
Hold the broad land, from sea to sea;
And every tongue, and every breeze
Breathes the sweet anthem of the free.
Still may the banner of thy love
O'er all our land in glory rest,
Our Heaven-appointed Ægis prove,
And make the coming centuries blest.
O'er all our land in glory rest,
Our Heaven-appointed Ægis prove,
And make the coming centuries blest.
And every star that gems the blue,
And every field for Freedom won,
Shall tell of heroes, firm and true,
And swell the fame of Washington.
And every field for Freedom won,
Shall tell of heroes, firm and true,
And swell the fame of Washington.
[_]
For the same occasion the following stanza was added to the National Hymn, “America,” by its author.
Our joyful hearts to-day,
Their grateful tribute pay,—
Happy and free,
After our toils and fears,
After our blood and tears,
Strong with our hundred years,
O God, to Thee.
Their grateful tribute pay,—
Happy and free,
After our toils and fears,
After our blood and tears,
Strong with our hundred years,
O God, to Thee.
185
MEMORIAL DAY, 1894.
Not costly domes nor marble towers
Shall mark where friendship comes to weep;
Let clustering vines and fragrant flowers
Tell where the nation's heroes sleep.
Shall mark where friendship comes to weep;
Let clustering vines and fragrant flowers
Tell where the nation's heroes sleep.
They rest in many a shaded vale,
By, and beneath, the sounding sea;
The forest-winds their requiem wail,—
The glorious sons of liberty!
By, and beneath, the sounding sea;
The forest-winds their requiem wail,—
The glorious sons of liberty!
Some, in the stalwart years of life;
Some, in the prime of manhood's bloom,—
Unshrinking, joined the bitter strife,
Unconquered, found a soldier's tomb.
Some, in the prime of manhood's bloom,—
Unshrinking, joined the bitter strife,
Unconquered, found a soldier's tomb.
They merit all our hearts can give;
Our praises and our love they claim;
Long shall their precious names survive,
Held sacred by immortal fame.
Our praises and our love they claim;
Long shall their precious names survive,
Held sacred by immortal fame.
Blest be the land for which they fought,—
The land where Freedom's banners wave;
The land by blood and treasure bought,
Where dwell the free, where sleep the brave.
The land where Freedom's banners wave;
The land by blood and treasure bought,
Where dwell the free, where sleep the brave.
Great patriots of the elder time,
Dear patriots of our later days,
Inspired alike by faith sublime,
One trump of fame shall swell your praise.
Dear patriots of our later days,
Inspired alike by faith sublime,
One trump of fame shall swell your praise.
186
The patriot sire to patriot son—
O'er the broad land, from sea to sea—
Has left the glorious portion won,
The dear bequest of liberty.
O'er the broad land, from sea to sea—
Has left the glorious portion won,
The dear bequest of liberty.
The picket from his weary tread
Has passed; his silent watch is o'er;
The myriad troops, to battle led,
Shall march o'er fields of blood no more.
Has passed; his silent watch is o'er;
The myriad troops, to battle led,
Shall march o'er fields of blood no more.
They gained what their ambition craved,
Freedom and love to all to bring;
And peace, o'er all the land they saved,
Broods, like the dove, with sheltering wing.
Freedom and love to all to bring;
And peace, o'er all the land they saved,
Broods, like the dove, with sheltering wing.
Honor the memory of the dead,
Where'er the sun of Freedom shines;
Wreathe with fair flowers each sleeper's bed,
Cherished and loved, as holy shrines.
Where'er the sun of Freedom shines;
Wreathe with fair flowers each sleeper's bed,
Cherished and loved, as holy shrines.
MY NATIVE LAND.
We wander far o'er land and sea;
We seek the old and new;
We try the lowly and the great,
The many and the few.
O'er States at hand and realms remote,
With curious quest we roam,
But find the fairest spot on earth
Just in our native home.
We seek the old and new;
We try the lowly and the great,
The many and the few.
O'er States at hand and realms remote,
With curious quest we roam,
But find the fairest spot on earth
Just in our native home.
187
We hold communion, high and sweet,
With men in ancient lore;
By day, by night, with reverent eyes,
O'er volumes old we pore,—
But Rome, and Greece, and Orient lands,
And heroes far away,
Great in their times, still lack the charm
That lights our own to-day.
With men in ancient lore;
By day, by night, with reverent eyes,
O'er volumes old we pore,—
But Rome, and Greece, and Orient lands,
And heroes far away,
Great in their times, still lack the charm
That lights our own to-day.
We seek for landscapes, fair and grand,
Seen through sweet summer haze;
Helvetia's mountains, piled with snow,
Italia's sunset rays,
And lake, and stream, and crag, and dell,
And new and fairer flowers,
We own them rich, and fair,—but not
More grand, more fair, than ours.
Seen through sweet summer haze;
Helvetia's mountains, piled with snow,
Italia's sunset rays,
And lake, and stream, and crag, and dell,
And new and fairer flowers,
We own them rich, and fair,—but not
More grand, more fair, than ours.
With solemn air we tread, where trod
The feet of ancient men,
And fill old palaces and courts
With echoing sounds again;
Temple and forum, bath and arch,
Un-earthed, in glory stand,—
These with admiring gaze we view,
But crave our native land.
The feet of ancient men,
And fill old palaces and courts
With echoing sounds again;
Temple and forum, bath and arch,
Un-earthed, in glory stand,—
These with admiring gaze we view,
But crave our native land.
We hear with joy the golden speech
Of men of high renown;
We see with praise the jewelled wealth
Of sceptre, mace, and crown,—
But dearer far the golden words
That made a people free;
And crown and sceptre pale before
A nation's liberty.
Of men of high renown;
We see with praise the jewelled wealth
Of sceptre, mace, and crown,—
But dearer far the golden words
That made a people free;
And crown and sceptre pale before
A nation's liberty.
188
O land, where saint and pilgrim came,
With loftiest purpose fraught,
Nurtured in hardship, toil and faith,
O land, divinely taught;
As streams the light from headland tower,
Guide o'er the stormy sea,
So hope, to all the oppressed, beams forth,
Dear native land, from thee.
With loftiest purpose fraught,
Nurtured in hardship, toil and faith,
O land, divinely taught;
As streams the light from headland tower,
Guide o'er the stormy sea,
So hope, to all the oppressed, beams forth,
Dear native land, from thee.
| Poems of home and country | |