The Vision of Prophecy and Other Poems By James D. Burns ... Second Edition |
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THE GOLD-SEEKER'S SONG. |
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| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
 | The Vision of Prophecy and Other Poems |  |
195
THE GOLD-SEEKER'S SONG.
Ye have heard what stirring thoughts
Roused the venturous souls of old,
When Jason and his Argonauts
Sought the fleece of gold.
Roused the venturous souls of old,
When Jason and his Argonauts
Sought the fleece of gold.
Many a gallant youth of Greece,
High in hope, went o'er the foam,
Weary sought the shadowy fleece,
Weary wandered home.
High in hope, went o'er the foam,
Weary sought the shadowy fleece,
Weary wandered home.
Brighter than old poet's dreams,
We have found the region blest,
By the Sacramento's streams,
In the desolate West.
We have found the region blest,
By the Sacramento's streams,
In the desolate West.
We have heard the golden river,
Chiming with metallic sound,—
Rapturous music which doth ever
Make the spirit bound.
Chiming with metallic sound,—
Rapturous music which doth ever
Make the spirit bound.
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We have seen the level prairie
Sown broadcast with heavy gold,—
Found the glittering realm of Faëry,
And the half not told.
Sown broadcast with heavy gold,—
Found the glittering realm of Faëry,
And the half not told.
Channels with its flakes are paven,
Sands are sparkling with its light,
And the luminous land is graven
With its ciphers bright.
Sands are sparkling with its light,
And the luminous land is graven
With its ciphers bright.
'Tis like dew upon the waste,
Here in scales and there in grains,
And the rocks are interlaced
With its ruddy veins.
Here in scales and there in grains,
And the rocks are interlaced
With its ruddy veins.
Come, then, to these yellow sands,
Ye who drudge in sweat of brow,
And no more through barren lands
Urge the thankless plough.
Ye who drudge in sweat of brow,
And no more through barren lands
Urge the thankless plough.
Ye who ere the dawning rise
When the bell of the factory tolls,—
Ye who blear and sear your eyes
Over glowing coals,—
When the bell of the factory tolls,—
Ye who blear and sear your eyes
Over glowing coals,—
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To these golden shores repair;—
Who would grudge the time or toil,
When each mattock-stroke lays bare
Heaps of glorious spoil?
Who would grudge the time or toil,
When each mattock-stroke lays bare
Heaps of glorious spoil?
Ye whose names the law has scored,
Ye on whom opinion rails,
Come where Justice drops her sword,
And Fortune loads her scales.
Ye on whom opinion rails,
Come where Justice drops her sword,
And Fortune loads her scales.
'Tis a land without Bastiles,
Law or lawyer, priest or sage,—
Where time rings in with merry peals
Another golden age.
Law or lawyer, priest or sage,—
Where time rings in with merry peals
Another golden age.
'Tis the grave of all degree,
Each man is his fellow's peer,
High and low, and bond and free,
Change their places here.
Each man is his fellow's peer,
High and low, and bond and free,
Change their places here.
Free from watch, and safe from warden,
Ye may wander where ye please,
And no dragon keeps the garden
Of the Hesperides.
Ye may wander where ye please,
And no dragon keeps the garden
Of the Hesperides.
| The Vision of Prophecy and Other Poems | |