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('TWIXT WAVE AND STAR.)
The river to the gulf went floating down,
The night fell fast along the shores of brown,
The lights came twinkling from a distant town,
And dipped their slender shadows in the wave;
Upon the laden deck, in humble guise,
There crouched a lad with smiling, thoughtful eyes,
A rugged face half merry and half wise,
A manner that was timid and yet brave.
The night fell fast along the shores of brown,
The lights came twinkling from a distant town,
And dipped their slender shadows in the wave;
Upon the laden deck, in humble guise,
There crouched a lad with smiling, thoughtful eyes,
A rugged face half merry and half wise,
A manner that was timid and yet brave.
Afar into the regions of the dark,
Was heard the hidden watchdog's sullen bark,
And now and then the voyager could mark
Perhaps a muffled cry of pain or joy;
And never yet had Loneliness, perchance,
Espied a pathway better to advance,
And throw her ofttime cold and dreary glance
Into the nature of a homesick boy.
Was heard the hidden watchdog's sullen bark,
And now and then the voyager could mark
Perhaps a muffled cry of pain or joy;
And never yet had Loneliness, perchance,
Espied a pathway better to advance,
And throw her ofttime cold and dreary glance
Into the nature of a homesick boy.
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'Twixt speeding wavelets and unmoving sky,
The summer clouds went journeying free and high,
But one the boyish traveler could descry,
Was black, as if a thunder-storm were near;
There came a steamer up the wounded stream,
With brazen voice, and headlights all agleam,
And merry passengers, that did not dream
The nation's future hope was hov'ring here.
The summer clouds went journeying free and high,
But one the boyish traveler could descry,
Was black, as if a thunder-storm were near;
There came a steamer up the wounded stream,
With brazen voice, and headlights all agleam,
And merry passengers, that did not dream
The nation's future hope was hov'ring here.
The moon rose from a forest, full and brave,
Unto the land a smile of beauty gave,
And threw her silver in the leaden wave,
But bore somewhat of sadness in her smile;
A thousand stars came marching into view,
And watched the voyager, as if they knew
Their silent prophesies would soon come true,
That were but jests, if voiced on earth the while.
Unto the land a smile of beauty gave,
And threw her silver in the leaden wave,
But bore somewhat of sadness in her smile;
A thousand stars came marching into view,
And watched the voyager, as if they knew
Their silent prophesies would soon come true,
That were but jests, if voiced on earth the while.
As toward the river's birthplace and its grave,
The rugged flatboat cleaved the whispering wave,
What were the visions to the boy they gave?—
We do not know: his lips have never told.
Were great assemblies cheering at his word,
In sounds prophetic by his senses heard?
Or into thoughtful silence were they stirred—
His silver speech transmuted into gold?
The rugged flatboat cleaved the whispering wave,
What were the visions to the boy they gave?—
We do not know: his lips have never told.
Were great assemblies cheering at his word,
In sounds prophetic by his senses heard?
Or into thoughtful silence were they stirred—
His silver speech transmuted into gold?
As lights and shadows with each other grew,
As his rough shallop clove the waters through,
Did marble halls arise unto his view—
And he their most supremely-honored guest?
Along the lonely river's rippling flow,
Did messages on wings of lightning go,
And glittering armies hurry to and fro,
And he by all the world their chief confessed?
As his rough shallop clove the waters through,
Did marble halls arise unto his view—
And he their most supremely-honored guest?
Along the lonely river's rippling flow,
Did messages on wings of lightning go,
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And he by all the world their chief confessed?
Did star-flecked banners flash aloft his name,
Did trumpets many-voiced his rank proclaim,
Did cannon greet him with their tongues of flame?—
We do not know: the river cannot tell.
Did nations glorify his care-worn face,
And in the halls of honor give him place,
As one who tore the shackles from a race?—
The shore's long walls have kept their secret well.
Did trumpets many-voiced his rank proclaim,
Did cannon greet him with their tongues of flame?—
We do not know: the river cannot tell.
Did nations glorify his care-worn face,
And in the halls of honor give him place,
As one who tore the shackles from a race?—
The shore's long walls have kept their secret well.
Did all the world his honest shrewdness prize?
Did monuments unto his name arise,
As claiming homage from the very skies?—
The mind hath oft its memories concealed.
Did he, to whom no sorrow called in vain,
Who pitied e'en the bitterest foeman slain,
Feel now the bullet crashing through his brain?
We cannot know, till all things are revealed.
Did monuments unto his name arise,
As claiming homage from the very skies?—
The mind hath oft its memories concealed.
Did he, to whom no sorrow called in vain,
Who pitied e'en the bitterest foeman slain,
Feel now the bullet crashing through his brain?
We cannot know, till all things are revealed.
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