 | Australian Lyrics &c |  |
57
LONGFELLOW IS DEAD.
A voice was wafted o'er the seas, which said
That Longfellow was dead;
And straightway from three continents arose
Such hum of many woes
That Longfellow was dead;
And straightway from three continents arose
Such hum of many woes
As rises from the nations when their great
Have bowed the head to fate.
This is he, who, born an American,
Was yet an Englishman,
Have bowed the head to fate.
This is he, who, born an American,
Was yet an Englishman,
And gloried in the oneness of our race,
Though severed by the space
Of all the ocean highways of the world.
To-day should be unfurled
Though severed by the space
Of all the ocean highways of the world.
To-day should be unfurled
By all of English speech, drooped half-mast high,
The flag he loved to eye,
Charged with the Stars and Stripes: he was as dear
To men at home and here
The flag he loved to eye,
Charged with the Stars and Stripes: he was as dear
To men at home and here
As in the great Republic—all his song
To England doth belong,
As much as Milton's: for these were two sides
Beyond th'Atlantic's tides,
To England doth belong,
As much as Milton's: for these were two sides
Beyond th'Atlantic's tides,
As there were in the great Rebellion.
And what if he took one
And we the other? 'tis no more than when
One bard cursed the King's men,
And what if he took one
And we the other? 'tis no more than when
One bard cursed the King's men,
And others satirized the Parliament.
This soothsayer was sent
With magic words to charm away the scars
Left by the great old wars
This soothsayer was sent
With magic words to charm away the scars
Left by the great old wars
Our fathers fought in fratricidal strife;
And throughout all his life
Was fusing back the pieces into one
Pan-Anglic Union.
And throughout all his life
Was fusing back the pieces into one
Pan-Anglic Union.
58
He used to boast that we were one in days
When Shakespeare wrote his plays;
And we can boast that in these latter hours
All his own songs are ours.
When Shakespeare wrote his plays;
And we can boast that in these latter hours
All his own songs are ours.
We claim as ours the “Old Clock on the Stair,”
And the “Two Locks of Hair.”
The “Psalm of Life,” and the “Hymn to the Night,”
And “God's Acre” delight
And the “Two Locks of Hair.”
The “Psalm of Life,” and the “Hymn to the Night,”
And “God's Acre” delight
The dwellers in the old home in the North,
And those she has sent forth
To make an England here. The “April Day,”
“It is not always May,”
And those she has sent forth
To make an England here. The “April Day,”
“It is not always May,”
“The Reaper and the Flowers,” “Weariness,”
“The Belfry of Bruges,”
And “Haunted Houses” are a legacy
To all of us who be
“The Belfry of Bruges,”
And “Haunted Houses” are a legacy
To all of us who be
Of the same tongue, as well as those whose land
Bore the magician's hand,
That touched these heartstrings. When we two were young,
Was not his simple song
Bore the magician's hand,
That touched these heartstrings. When we two were young,
Was not his simple song
Our sampler of all song? As we grew old
We failed not to strike gold
Whene'er we plied our picks. As ages roll,
His fame from pole to pole
We failed not to strike gold
Whene'er we plied our picks. As ages roll,
His fame from pole to pole
Will be as evergreen as it is wide,
The while that side by side,
As was his wish, the Englands, old and new,
Uprear in all men's view
The while that side by side,
As was his wish, the Englands, old and new,
Uprear in all men's view
The noblest epitaph of later days
And monument of praise,
“Brothers of the same lineage and tongue,
After estrangement long,
United by the words he spake to both
In language of their youth.”
And monument of praise,
“Brothers of the same lineage and tongue,
After estrangement long,
United by the words he spake to both
In language of their youth.”
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