 | The various writings of Cornelius Mathews |  |
V.
THE FARMER.
Full master of the liberal soil he treads,
With none to tithe, to crop, to third his beds
Of ripely-glowing fruit or yellow grain—
He knows what freedom is; undulled of pain
Looks on the sun and on the wheatfield looks,
Each glad and golden in the other's view;
Or, on the meadow listening to the sky
That bids its grasses thrive with starry dew.
With none to tithe, to crop, to third his beds
Of ripely-glowing fruit or yellow grain—
He knows what freedom is; undulled of pain
Looks on the sun and on the wheatfield looks,
Each glad and golden in the other's view;
Or, on the meadow listening to the sky
That bids its grasses thrive with starry dew.
To him there come in such still places,
Undimmed, majestical and fresh as life,
The elder forms, the antique mighty faces
Which shone in council, stood aloft in strife—
When went the battle, billowy, past;
When high the standard to the sky was raised;
When rushed the horsemen with the rushing blast,
And the red sword through shrouded valleys blazed.
Undimmed, majestical and fresh as life,
The elder forms, the antique mighty faces
Which shone in council, stood aloft in strife—
When went the battle, billowy, past;
When high the standard to the sky was raised;
When rushed the horsemen with the rushing blast,
And the red sword through shrouded valleys blazed.
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When Cities rising shake th' Atlantic shore—
Thou mighty Inland, calm with plenteous peace,
Oh temper and assuage the wild uproar,
And bring the sick, vexed masses balmy ease.
On their red vision like an angel gleam,
And angel-like be heard amid their cries
Till they are stilled as is the summer's stream,
Majestical and still as summer skies.
Thou mighty Inland, calm with plenteous peace,
Oh temper and assuage the wild uproar,
And bring the sick, vexed masses balmy ease.
On their red vision like an angel gleam,
And angel-like be heard amid their cries
Till they are stilled as is the summer's stream,
Majestical and still as summer skies.
When cloud-like whirling through the stormy State
Fierce Revolutions rush in wild-orbed haste,
On the still highway stay their darkling course,
And soothe with gentle airs their fiery breast;
Slaking the anger of their chariot-wheels
In the cool flowings of the mountain brook,
While from the cloud the heavenward prophet casts
His mantle's peace, and shines his better look.
Fierce Revolutions rush in wild-orbed haste,
On the still highway stay their darkling course,
And soothe with gentle airs their fiery breast;
Slaking the anger of their chariot-wheels
In the cool flowings of the mountain brook,
While from the cloud the heavenward prophet casts
His mantle's peace, and shines his better look.
Better to watch the live-long day
The clouds that come and go
Wearying the heaven they idle through,
And fretting out its everlasting blue—
Than prowl through streets and sleep in hungry dens
The beast should own, though known and named as men's;
Though sadness on the woods may often lie,
And, wither to a waste the meadowy land—
Pure blows the air—and purer shines the sky,
For nearer always to Heaven's gate ye stand!
The clouds that come and go
Wearying the heaven they idle through,
And fretting out its everlasting blue—
Than prowl through streets and sleep in hungry dens
The beast should own, though known and named as men's;
Though sadness on the woods may often lie,
And, wither to a waste the meadowy land—
Pure blows the air—and purer shines the sky,
For nearer always to Heaven's gate ye stand!
| The various writings of Cornelius Mathews | |