 | The Battle-Day and Other Poems |  |
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Plough and Loom.
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LEAWOOD HALL,
A Christmas Tale.
In a cottage on a moor
Famine's feeble children cried;
The frost knocked sharply at the door,
And hunger welcom'd him inside;
Famine's feeble children cried;
The frost knocked sharply at the door,
And hunger welcom'd him inside;
In the moonlight cracked the leaves,
As the fox across them passed,
And the ice-drops from the eaves
Rattled to the whirling blast;
As the fox across them passed,
And the ice-drops from the eaves
Rattled to the whirling blast;
On the black hearth glowed no ember,
On the damp floor lay the rime,
Elfin haloes of December
For the sainted Christmas-time;
On the damp floor lay the rime,
Elfin haloes of December
For the sainted Christmas-time;
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And a pale girl sat there chanting
Mournfully to children twain,
Like some sweet house-spirit haunting
Old men's homes with childhood's strain.
Mournfully to children twain,
Like some sweet house-spirit haunting
Old men's homes with childhood's strain.
Ellen was a maiden fair
With that beauty meek and frail,
Softened by the hand of care
From the red rose to the pale.
With that beauty meek and frail,
Softened by the hand of care
From the red rose to the pale.
But the children had no feature
Of the blithe child's merry grace,
Still of spirit—small of stature—
Manhood's thought on childhood's face.
Of the blithe child's merry grace,
Still of spirit—small of stature—
Manhood's thought on childhood's face.
And a woman, thin and eager,
Tossed upon a litter low,
Lifting up large eyes of fever,
With a look of angry woe.
Tossed upon a litter low,
Lifting up large eyes of fever,
With a look of angry woe.
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Harsh complaints and words unkind
To each and all in turn addressed,
For pain, with searching hand, will find
A bitter drop in every breast.
To each and all in turn addressed,
For pain, with searching hand, will find
A bitter drop in every breast.
Bearing all with passive mood
While her sharp invective ran,
In cold and fearful calmness stood
A silent, melancholy man.
While her sharp invective ran,
In cold and fearful calmness stood
A silent, melancholy man.
O'er his brow the moonbeam lingered
'Mid the lines that passion wrought,
Like an angel, glory-fingered,
Shewing heaven the dangerous thought.
'Mid the lines that passion wrought,
Like an angel, glory-fingered,
Shewing heaven the dangerous thought.
He had toiled in hope's assurance,
Toiled when hope had changed to fear,
Toiled amid despair's endurance—
These were sorry thanks to hear!
Toiled when hope had changed to fear,
Toiled amid despair's endurance—
These were sorry thanks to hear!
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Yet he chid not her reproving,
Bore it all in quiet part—
Said: It is but misery moving
Pulses foreign to her heart.
Bore it all in quiet part—
Said: It is but misery moving
Pulses foreign to her heart.
Still in solemn silence bound,
Scarce a sign of life he gave,
But fixed his eyes upon the ground,
As though his look could dig his grave.
Scarce a sign of life he gave,
But fixed his eyes upon the ground,
As though his look could dig his grave.
Sudden through the broken pane
Faintly gleamed a ruddy light,
And something like a festive strain
Came thrilling through the heart of night.
Faintly gleamed a ruddy light,
And something like a festive strain
Came thrilling through the heart of night.
With flashing eyes that woman wan
Rose like a shade against the wall:
“Hark! hark! the festival's began!
“The tables groan at Leawood Hall!
Rose like a shade against the wall:
“Hark! hark! the festival's began!
“The tables groan at Leawood Hall!
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“The Rich man feasts—and Leawood's near—
“What honey stores his golden hive!
“Go! bid him give those dying here,
“One crust to save their souls alive!”
“What honey stores his golden hive!
“Go! bid him give those dying here,
“One crust to save their souls alive!”
The night grew dark—but from a height
Afar the lordly mansion shone,
Shone pillar white and portal bright,
Like trellis-work of fire and stone.
Afar the lordly mansion shone,
Shone pillar white and portal bright,
Like trellis-work of fire and stone.
Along the roads, from every side
The blazing lamps were racing all,
As fast the guests invited hied
To share the feast at Leawood Hall.
The blazing lamps were racing all,
As fast the guests invited hied
To share the feast at Leawood Hall.
It was a Norman castle high—
It was a keep of ages rude,
When men named murder—chivalry,
And robbery was called—a feud.
It was a keep of ages rude,
When men named murder—chivalry,
And robbery was called—a feud.
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There barons stern once housed in pride,
And coined the labourer's heart to gold:
On field and fell the labourer died,
While they were gay in holt and hold.
And coined the labourer's heart to gold:
On field and fell the labourer died,
While they were gay in holt and hold.
What they had lavished to replenish,
They o'ertaxed endurance' length,
Drunk his labour down in Rhenish,
And grew strong upon his strength.
They o'ertaxed endurance' length,
Drunk his labour down in Rhenish,
And grew strong upon his strength.
Men of haughtiness! unthinking
In their selfishness of caste,
'Twas his life-blood they were drinking!
But 'twould poison them at last.
In their selfishness of caste,
'Twas his life-blood they were drinking!
But 'twould poison them at last.
From the dust that they were treading
Some stood up by force or craft,
Till, the scutcheoned peer o'erheading,
In his face the trader laughed.
Some stood up by force or craft,
Till, the scutcheoned peer o'erheading,
In his face the trader laughed.
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Then, his triumph once insuring,
This new conqueror fiercely rose,
Smote the people's neck enduring,
After they had crushed his foes.
This new conqueror fiercely rose,
Smote the people's neck enduring,
After they had crushed his foes.
And those mighty tyrant-blasters
Settled into slaves again;
They had only changed their masters,
And that change was worse than vain.
Settled into slaves again;
They had only changed their masters,
And that change was worse than vain.
Since then, a sterile-thoughted man
Had lorded it o'er Leawood fair,
Who as an errand-boy began,
And ended as a millionaire.
Had lorded it o'er Leawood fair,
Who as an errand-boy began,
And ended as a millionaire.
And his son, by slow degrees,
Mounted life with golden feet,
For the son knew how to please,
As the sire knew how to cheat.
Mounted life with golden feet,
For the son knew how to please,
As the sire knew how to cheat.
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Before he rose, the people's friend,
He feigned at all their wrongs to burn;
Now, as he bent, made others bend,
And played the tyrant in his turn.
He feigned at all their wrongs to burn;
Now, as he bent, made others bend,
And played the tyrant in his turn.
Patronized each bible-mission;
Gave to charities—his name;
No longer cared for man's condition,
But carefully preserved—his game.
Gave to charities—his name;
No longer cared for man's condition,
But carefully preserved—his game.
Against the Slave-trade he had voted,
“Rights of Man” resounding still;
Now, basely turning, brazen-throated,
Yelled against the Ten Hours' Bill.
“Rights of Man” resounding still;
Now, basely turning, brazen-throated,
Yelled against the Ten Hours' Bill.
Oh! Leawood Hall was gay that night;
Shone roof and rafter, porch and door,
And proudly rolled the sheeted light
Its glory over Leawood Moor.
Shone roof and rafter, porch and door,
And proudly rolled the sheeted light
Its glory over Leawood Moor.
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Full in the glare the labourer stood;
The music smote him like a blast,
And through the rich ancestral wood
He heard the fat deer rushing past.
The music smote him like a blast,
And through the rich ancestral wood
He heard the fat deer rushing past.
“While we are starving!” cried his love;
“But they are watching!” said his fear.
'Twixt hell below and heaven above—
What dost thou on the balance here?
“But they are watching!” said his fear.
'Twixt hell below and heaven above—
What dost thou on the balance here?
Through the hall the beggar spurning,
Menials drove him from the door:
Can they chide the torch for burning,
They cast smouldering on the floor?
Menials drove him from the door:
Can they chide the torch for burning,
They cast smouldering on the floor?
Say not: “This is no fair sample,
“This was but the menial's part!”
'Twas the master's past example
Filtered through the servant's heart.
“This was but the menial's part!”
'Twas the master's past example
Filtered through the servant's heart.
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“Man is born—and man must live!”
Thus anger read its maddening creed:
“If I take what they won't give,
“Can heaven itself frown on the deed?”
Thus anger read its maddening creed:
“If I take what they won't give,
“Can heaven itself frown on the deed?”
That night a fierce and haggard man
From Leawood Hall was seen to run;—
But ere the fearful race began
The rifle's deadly work was done.
From Leawood Hall was seen to run;—
But ere the fearful race began
The rifle's deadly work was done.
Ye pampered drones! pursuit is vain,
Give o'er the godless, cruel strife!
As well o'ertake the hurricane:
Despair and love fly there for life.
Give o'er the godless, cruel strife!
As well o'ertake the hurricane:
Despair and love fly there for life.
Long the anxious wife sat waiting,
Fainter grew the children's cry;
E'en the wind, the desolating,
Slept to his own lullaby.
Fainter grew the children's cry;
E'en the wind, the desolating,
Slept to his own lullaby.
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The father came—but hot and wild
The open door he staggered past;
His brow was knit, but still he smiled,
Like sunset over tempest cast.
The open door he staggered past;
His brow was knit, but still he smiled,
Like sunset over tempest cast.
“Food! food!” he cried, “they feast to-night,
“And I have brought our share as well;
“Wife! we were starving—'twas our right!
“If not—as God wills—heaven or hell!”
“And I have brought our share as well;
“Wife! we were starving—'twas our right!
“If not—as God wills—heaven or hell!”
Then spoke his wife with inward pride
To think her counsel proved so brave;
“I knew you could not be denied;
“Now bless the gentle hand that gave.”
To think her counsel proved so brave;
“I knew you could not be denied;
“Now bless the gentle hand that gave.”
He strangely smiled in wondrous mood,
And, with the haste of fever, quaffed
Down to the dregs a fiery flood;
And still he smiled—and still he laughed.
And, with the haste of fever, quaffed
Down to the dregs a fiery flood;
And still he smiled—and still he laughed.
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He smiled to mark their spirits rise,
And that his wife had ceased to sigh,
And how the ardour in her eyes
Gave her the look of times gone by.
And that his wife had ceased to sigh,
And how the ardour in her eyes
Gave her the look of times gone by.
He laughed to think how small a cost
Might brighten poverty's eclipse;
But sudden silence strangely crossed
With blanching hand his quivering lips.
Might brighten poverty's eclipse;
But sudden silence strangely crossed
With blanching hand his quivering lips.
Then oft he kissed each little child,
And looked as one who'd much to say;
But, ere he spoke, some pinion wild
Waved the unuttered thought away.
And looked as one who'd much to say;
But, ere he spoke, some pinion wild
Waved the unuttered thought away.
And Ellen marvelled to behold
Such fitful change and sudden cheer;
He had so long been stern and cold,
This kindness seemed a thing to fear.
Such fitful change and sudden cheer;
He had so long been stern and cold,
This kindness seemed a thing to fear.
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And fainter grew his smile and bitter,
And his face turned cold and grey,
While slow he sunk down on the litter,
And strength's last bravery broke away.
And his face turned cold and grey,
While slow he sunk down on the litter,
And strength's last bravery broke away.
Then they saw where, heartward glancing,
Deep the cruel rifle smote;
While death's gurgling march advancing
Sounded up his gasping throat.
Deep the cruel rifle smote;
While death's gurgling march advancing
Sounded up his gasping throat.
Clung, like leaves of Autumn's serest,
Wife and children to his side;
He turned his last look on his dearest,
And, thus sadly gazing, died.
Wife and children to his side;
He turned his last look on his dearest,
And, thus sadly gazing, died.
Courage now no more dissembled
Broken strength and baffled will;
The wistful children stood and trembled,
And the room grew very still.
Broken strength and baffled will;
The wistful children stood and trembled,
And the room grew very still.
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THE FACTORY TOWN.
The night had sunk along the city,
It was a bleak and cheerless hour;
The wild winds sang their solemn ditty
To cold grey wall and blackened tower.
It was a bleak and cheerless hour;
The wild winds sang their solemn ditty
To cold grey wall and blackened tower.
The factories gave forth lurid fires
From pent-up hells within their breast;
E'en Etna's burning wrath expires,
But man's volcanoes never rest.
From pent-up hells within their breast;
E'en Etna's burning wrath expires,
But man's volcanoes never rest.
Women, children, men were toiling,
Locked in dungeons close and black,
Life's fast-failing thread uncoiling
Round the wheel, the modern rack!
Locked in dungeons close and black,
Life's fast-failing thread uncoiling
Round the wheel, the modern rack!
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E'en the very stars seemed troubled
With the mingled fume and roar;
The city like a cauldron bubbled,
With its poison boiling o'er.
With the mingled fume and roar;
The city like a cauldron bubbled,
With its poison boiling o'er.
For the reeking walls environ
Mingled groups of death and life:
Fellow-workmen, flesh and iron,
Side by side in deadly strife.
Mingled groups of death and life:
Fellow-workmen, flesh and iron,
Side by side in deadly strife.
There, amid the wheels' dull droning
And the heavy, choking air,
Strength's repining, labour's groaning,
And the throttling of despair,—
And the heavy, choking air,
Strength's repining, labour's groaning,
And the throttling of despair,—
With the dust around them whirling,
And the white, cracked, fevered lips,
And the shuttle's ceaseless twirling,
And the short life's toil eclipse—
And the white, cracked, fevered lips,
And the shuttle's ceaseless twirling,
And the short life's toil eclipse—
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Stood half-naked infants shivering
With heart-frost amid the heat;
Manhood's shrunken sinews quivering
To the engine's horrid beat!
With heart-frost amid the heat;
Manhood's shrunken sinews quivering
To the engine's horrid beat!
Woman's aching heart was throbbing
With her wasting children's pain,
While red Mammon's hand was robbing
God's thought-treasure from their brain!
With her wasting children's pain,
While red Mammon's hand was robbing
God's thought-treasure from their brain!
Yet their lord bids proudly wander
Stranger eyes thro' factory scenes;
“Here are men, and engines yonder.”
“I see nothing but machines!”
Stranger eyes thro' factory scenes;
“Here are men, and engines yonder.”
“I see nothing but machines!”
Hark! amid that bloodless slaughter
Comes the wailing of despair:
“Oh! for but one drop of water!
“Oh! for but one breath of air!
Comes the wailing of despair:
“Oh! for but one drop of water!
“Oh! for but one breath of air!
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“One fresh touch of dewy grasses,
“Just to cool this shrivelled hand!
“Just to catch one breeze that passes
“From some shady forest land.”
“Just to cool this shrivelled hand!
“Just to catch one breeze that passes
“From some shady forest land.”
No! though 'twas a night of summer
With a scent of new mown hay
From where the moon, the fairies' mummer,
On distant fields enchanted lay!
With a scent of new mown hay
From where the moon, the fairies' mummer,
On distant fields enchanted lay!
On the lealands slept the cattle,
Freshness through the forest ran—
While, in Mammon's mighty battle,
Man was immolating man!
Freshness through the forest ran—
While, in Mammon's mighty battle,
Man was immolating man!
While the rich, with power unstable,
Crushed the pauper's heart of pain,
As though those rich were heirs of Abel,
And the poor the sons of Cain.
Crushed the pauper's heart of pain,
As though those rich were heirs of Abel,
And the poor the sons of Cain.
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While the proud from drowsy riot,
Staggered past his church unknown,
Where his God, in the great quiet,
Preached the livelong night alone!
Staggered past his church unknown,
Where his God, in the great quiet,
Preached the livelong night alone!
While the bloated trader passes,
Lord of loom and lord of mill;
On his pathway rush the masses,
Crushed beneath his stubborn will.
Lord of loom and lord of mill;
On his pathway rush the masses,
Crushed beneath his stubborn will.
Eager slaves, a willing heriot,
O'er their brethren's living road
Drive him in his golden chariot,
Quickened by his golden goad.
O'er their brethren's living road
Drive him in his golden chariot,
Quickened by his golden goad.
Young forms—with their pulses stifled,
Young heads—with the eldered brain,
Young hearts—of their spirit rifled,
Young lives—sacrificed in vain:
Young heads—with the eldered brain,
Young hearts—of their spirit rifled,
Young lives—sacrificed in vain:
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There they lie—the withered corses,
With not one regretful thought,
Trampled by thy fierce steam-horses,
England's mighty Juggernaut!
With not one regretful thought,
Trampled by thy fierce steam-horses,
England's mighty Juggernaut!
Over all the solemn heaven
Arches, like a God's reproof
At the offerings man has driven
To Hell's altars, loom and woof!
Arches, like a God's reproof
At the offerings man has driven
To Hell's altars, loom and woof!
Hear ye not the secret sighing?
And the tear drop thro' the night?
See ye not a nation dying
For want of rest, and air, and light?
And the tear drop thro' the night?
See ye not a nation dying
For want of rest, and air, and light?
Perishing for want of Nature!
Crowded in the stifling town—
Dwarfed in brain and shrunk' in stature—
Generations growing down!
Crowded in the stifling town—
Dwarfed in brain and shrunk' in stature—
Generations growing down!
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Thinner wanes the rural village,
Smokier lies the fallow plain—
Shrinks the cornfields' pleasant tillage,
Fades the orchard's rich domain;
Smokier lies the fallow plain—
Shrinks the cornfields' pleasant tillage,
Fades the orchard's rich domain;
And a banished population
Festers in the fetid street:—
Give us, God, to save our nation,
Less of cotton, more of wheat.
Festers in the fetid street:—
Give us, God, to save our nation,
Less of cotton, more of wheat.
Take us back to lea and wild wood,
Back to nature and to Thee!
To the child restore his childhood—
To the man his dignity!
Back to nature and to Thee!
To the child restore his childhood—
To the man his dignity!
Lo! the night hangs o'er the city,
And the hours in fever fly,
And the wild winds sing their ditty,
And the generations die.
And the hours in fever fly,
And the wild winds sing their ditty,
And the generations die.
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THE CORNFIELD AND THE FACTORY.
Oh! what is so blithe as through cornfields to roam,
When the lark is in heaven and laughter on earth?
Oh! what is so blithe as the glad harvest-home,
When the lads are all frolic—the lasses all mirth?
When the lark is in heaven and laughter on earth?
Oh! what is so blithe as the glad harvest-home,
When the lads are all frolic—the lasses all mirth?
Oh! what is so fair as mid breezes of June
To watch the long corn-billows sweep?
When the fields in their bloom sway like tides to the moon,
And from slender stalks drooping the soft whispers creep,
As though angels walked through them and prayed o'er their sleep!
To watch the long corn-billows sweep?
When the fields in their bloom sway like tides to the moon,
And from slender stalks drooping the soft whispers creep,
As though angels walked through them and prayed o'er their sleep!
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Oh! what is so gay as the harvest-home dance,
When the moonbeams troop on the gray churchroof,
And the old men smile as they stand aloof;
The boys and the girls round them riot and race,
And the moon seems to laugh till 'tis red in the face
At the goblets that clank and the younkers that prance—
And the village-girls glance—at their partners askance,
As though heads and hearts too could be proof?
When the moonbeams troop on the gray churchroof,
And the old men smile as they stand aloof;
The boys and the girls round them riot and race,
And the moon seems to laugh till 'tis red in the face
At the goblets that clank and the younkers that prance—
And the village-girls glance—at their partners askance,
As though heads and hearts too could be proof?
Oh! what is so sweet as the Sunday morn?
When the bells on the breezes flow;
And the peasant lad walks with his bride through the corn
As church-ward they go—oh!—how slow—
Because—the blue cornflowers along the path grow!
And he and his lass bless the corn as they pass—
For they speak with a glance of the harvest-home dance.
When the bells on the breezes flow;
And the peasant lad walks with his bride through the corn
As church-ward they go—oh!—how slow—
Because—the blue cornflowers along the path grow!
And he and his lass bless the corn as they pass—
For they speak with a glance of the harvest-home dance.
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Oh! what is so calm as the old man's joy,
When he walks by the field in its pride,
And talks of his feats in that field when a boy,
To the young boy who walks by his side?
How he mowed it down in one long summer's day:
When the labour was done how he knelt down to pray!
See! the flashes of boyhood from aged eyes glance,
For he thinks of his bride at the harvest-home dance.
When he walks by the field in its pride,
And talks of his feats in that field when a boy,
To the young boy who walks by his side?
How he mowed it down in one long summer's day:
When the labour was done how he knelt down to pray!
See! the flashes of boyhood from aged eyes glance,
For he thinks of his bride at the harvest-home dance.
'Twas merry in England in times of old
When the summer fields rolled their long billows of gold,
And the bright year had climbed to its noon;
The earth was song, laughter, and joyaunce and love,
And the Spirit of heaven sat smiling above,
From the orb of the red harvest moon.
When the summer fields rolled their long billows of gold,
And the bright year had climbed to its noon;
The earth was song, laughter, and joyaunce and love,
And the Spirit of heaven sat smiling above,
From the orb of the red harvest moon.
But where has it flown? Why less bright than of old
Does summer turn emerald fields into gold?
And the harvest moon struggle through mist faint and dim,
Like a pale ghost who peers round the charnel shroud's rim?
On the fair brow of woman a shadow is bent,
From the wild eye of man flashes forth discontent!
Say! Whence comes the change? Whence the curse has been sent?
Does summer turn emerald fields into gold?
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Like a pale ghost who peers round the charnel shroud's rim?
On the fair brow of woman a shadow is bent,
From the wild eye of man flashes forth discontent!
Say! Whence comes the change? Whence the curse has been sent?
What is it, next the church-tower climbs the sky,
How more frequented far, and scarce less high?
What plague-cloud rolls across the darkened land,
And hurls the sun away with shadowy hand?
What wheels revolve in dungeons hot and black,
Of modern tyranny the modern rack?
What horrid birth from that unnatural womb?
The demon god of factory and loom!
Fierce, with a yell he bounds upon the land,
Writhes his thin lip and waves his yellow hand,
And points, where man's volcanoes through the skies,
His thousand temples' burning altars rise.
Curses and groans his ear like anthems greet,
And blighted lives are cast beneath his feet.
His sable banners o'er heaven's glory roll
The shades that blast the heart and reach the soul.
Care-stricken forms the street's long darkness fill,
Embodied dreams of misery and ill!
A more than Cain-like mark their foreheads bear,
For sin's their only respite from despair!
And in each sunken eye's unhallowed cell
The fever flashes, not of life, but hell.
Oaths upon infant lips, and, loathsome sight!
The eyes of childhood without childhood's light.
The laugh of youth a gibbering of art;
Larves of humanity without a heart!
How more frequented far, and scarce less high?
What plague-cloud rolls across the darkened land,
And hurls the sun away with shadowy hand?
What wheels revolve in dungeons hot and black,
Of modern tyranny the modern rack?
What horrid birth from that unnatural womb?
The demon god of factory and loom!
Fierce, with a yell he bounds upon the land,
Writhes his thin lip and waves his yellow hand,
And points, where man's volcanoes through the skies,
His thousand temples' burning altars rise.
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And blighted lives are cast beneath his feet.
His sable banners o'er heaven's glory roll
The shades that blast the heart and reach the soul.
Care-stricken forms the street's long darkness fill,
Embodied dreams of misery and ill!
A more than Cain-like mark their foreheads bear,
For sin's their only respite from despair!
And in each sunken eye's unhallowed cell
The fever flashes, not of life, but hell.
Oaths upon infant lips, and, loathsome sight!
The eyes of childhood without childhood's light.
The laugh of youth a gibbering of art;
Larves of humanity without a heart!
The very sun shines pale on a dark earth,
Where quivering engines groan their horrid mirth,
And black smoke-offerings, crimes and curses, swell
From furnace-altars of incarnate hell!
The demon laughs, and still his arm he waves,
That thins the villages, but fills the graves.
Through bleak, deserted fields he loves to roam,
Where shines the furnace on hell's harvest-home.
'Tis this has stilled the laughter of the child,
And made man's mirth less holy, but more wild!
Bade Heav'n's pure light from woman's eye depart,
And trodden love from out her gentle heart.
'Tis this, that wards the sunshine from the sod,
And intercepts the very smile of God!
Where quivering engines groan their horrid mirth,
And black smoke-offerings, crimes and curses, swell
From furnace-altars of incarnate hell!
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That thins the villages, but fills the graves.
Through bleak, deserted fields he loves to roam,
Where shines the furnace on hell's harvest-home.
'Tis this has stilled the laughter of the child,
And made man's mirth less holy, but more wild!
Bade Heav'n's pure light from woman's eye depart,
And trodden love from out her gentle heart.
'Tis this, that wards the sunshine from the sod,
And intercepts the very smile of God!
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THE PEASANT.
Forth to the fight! thou shining sword of song!
Sing, sing the toil, that makes the toiler strong.
Sing, how the peasant, after well-fought field,
Where sun-gilt legions to his sickle yield,
Reluctant turns from willing work to part,
In body wearied, but yet fresh in heart.
His the glad labour, that but strengthens more,
Braces the frame and bids the spirit soar;
His the pure life, gives loftier feeling scope,
The harvest gratitude, the seed-time hope!
For him the orchards bloom, the corn-fields nod,
And these are altars where he worships God.
Not thus the pale mechanic, hapless slave,
Digs for a master's wealth his own dark grave,
Who sows in misery, and reaps in pain,
The harvest, garner'd for another's gain;
Unknown amid the bustling crowd sinks down,
A martyr! but without a martyr's crown!
Turn from the sight—and see what joys abide,
What comfort by the cottager's fireside:
Sing, sing the toil, that makes the toiler strong.
Sing, how the peasant, after well-fought field,
Where sun-gilt legions to his sickle yield,
Reluctant turns from willing work to part,
In body wearied, but yet fresh in heart.
His the glad labour, that but strengthens more,
Braces the frame and bids the spirit soar;
His the pure life, gives loftier feeling scope,
The harvest gratitude, the seed-time hope!
For him the orchards bloom, the corn-fields nod,
And these are altars where he worships God.
Not thus the pale mechanic, hapless slave,
Digs for a master's wealth his own dark grave,
96
The harvest, garner'd for another's gain;
Unknown amid the bustling crowd sinks down,
A martyr! but without a martyr's crown!
Turn from the sight—and see what joys abide,
What comfort by the cottager's fireside:
Before the expiring embers' fitful light
Watches a wife, a mother, through the night,
Her fair brow hung with care's cold drapery white;
Her thoughts upon a desert of hope's dearth,
A dying heart beside a darkening hearth.
Watches a wife, a mother, through the night,
Her fair brow hung with care's cold drapery white;
Her thoughts upon a desert of hope's dearth,
A dying heart beside a darkening hearth.
The deaf had known each sound that came and went,
By the quick shudder through her slight form sent
At the light footstep of the elfish blast,
Who tapped against the window as he passed;
Or hollow laugh from clouds, the stars' black hearse,
When dies their light before the thunder's curse.
By the quick shudder through her slight form sent
At the light footstep of the elfish blast,
Who tapped against the window as he passed;
Or hollow laugh from clouds, the stars' black hearse,
When dies their light before the thunder's curse.
97
Eager she listens every sound to catch!—
'Tis but the tempest's hand upon the latch.
Unconsciously she moves from spot to spot,
Or gazes on her babe, but sees it not!
Is that pale prison of an anxious life
The boast of womanhood—a peasant's wife?
At length a rude hand strikes the cottage door,
A boisterous foot is on the shaking floor,
A lofty form, but care-worn now and thin,
Enters, as though the tempest had poured in:
With fevered face, with glances fierce and wild,
The husband greets the mother and the child.
The babe starts from its sleep with cry of fear,
The fond wife casts a smile upon a tear,
And throws her arms around that form so proud,
As a pale moonbeam clasps a thunder-cloud.
His heart a prison, with a chaos fraught,
His hearth neglected, and his brain untaught,
Half-stifled curses smouldering in his breast,
'Tis thus the British peasant seeks his rest.
'Tis but the tempest's hand upon the latch.
Unconsciously she moves from spot to spot,
Or gazes on her babe, but sees it not!
Is that pale prison of an anxious life
The boast of womanhood—a peasant's wife?
At length a rude hand strikes the cottage door,
A boisterous foot is on the shaking floor,
A lofty form, but care-worn now and thin,
Enters, as though the tempest had poured in:
With fevered face, with glances fierce and wild,
The husband greets the mother and the child.
The babe starts from its sleep with cry of fear,
The fond wife casts a smile upon a tear,
And throws her arms around that form so proud,
As a pale moonbeam clasps a thunder-cloud.
His heart a prison, with a chaos fraught,
His hearth neglected, and his brain untaught,
Half-stifled curses smouldering in his breast,
'Tis thus the British peasant seeks his rest.
| The Battle-Day and Other Poems | |