By the Sea and Other Verses Part 6
So would I have my soul recoil From touch of wrong or thought of sin; So throw its portals wide again, To let the dew and sunshine in.
AT THE CRISIS
I.--THE STEAMBOAT BELLS
When steamboats approach Mt. Vernon their bells begin to toll, and continue the mournful service until the sacred spot is again left in the distance.
Mt. Vernon's shade sweet vigil keeps Where on her breast her hero sleeps; O pa.s.sing bells, soft be your tone, Toll gently for our Washington.
Toll, the great Warrior's strife is o'er; Toll, for the Statesman pleads no more; Toll--for a Man is fallen--on, Peal out your dirge for Washington.
Toll for a people's wounded heart, Toll for a bleeding Nation's smart, Toll for a World!--toll sadly on-- The world hath lost a Washington.
Ring out your wailing on the air, And let it be a voice of prayer; He whom we greatly need is gone;-- G.o.d give another Washington.
1863
Thus while she listened to the mournful knell That woke sad echoes on Potomac's sh.o.r.e; Saw how from Sumter's height her banner fell, And heard, not distant far, loud battle's roar;--
Thus, while she heard the impatient bondman's moan, Knew her own power defied, her trust betrayed; While Treason rose to hurl her from her throne-- The Spirit of the Union mused and prayed.
II.--THE EMANc.i.p.aTOR
G.o.d gave another; while we stood Aghast before the coming flood Of war, and its attending woes, The one for whom she prayed arose.
Blinded and deaf, we knew him not; Yet saw him wipe out slavery's blot; Heard him proclaim his people free, From lake to gulf, from sea to sea.
Saw this and heard, but deaf and blind, We failed to recognize the Mind, Which, going on from strength to strength, From grace to grace, had grown at length,
Thro the stern lessons of the hour, Of danger, censure, praise and power, To be the Man among us, one, Whom now we hail, since he is gone, Lincoln, our more than Washington.
1866
ON THE DEATH OF DR. JAMES E. RHOADS
Fallen? No; his part was finished In the earthly toil and strife; He hath but lain his armor by, And entered into life.
Silent? No; tho' hushed forever Tones that did like music thrill, Through example, helpful, holy, Lo, he speaketh still.
Vanished? Lost to those that loved him?
No; his spirit lingering near Still doth woo them, onward, upward, Whispering, "Be of cheer."
Crowned? Aye, crowned in earth and heaven; Here with laurels fairly won; There with star-lit diadem, Inscribed "Well done! well done!"
ETERNAL YOUTH
Looking in thine eyes of azure, Looking on thy hair of gold, Once I wished, Evangelina, That there were no growing old.
For I thought of how thy sweet eyes Would grow dim with tears and care; How the years would turn to silver All thy wealth of golden hair.
How the lines of life would gather O'er the face so placid now; Traces of its toil and struggle Touching lip and cheek and brow.
This I thought, and wished the shadows Might not lengthen o'er thy way; Wished there were no time but spring-time, Were no evening of the day.
Now I fear, Evangelina, That my wish was half a prayer, That the listening Father heard me, That thou liest, an answer, there.
For thou liest in thy beauty,-- Eyes of blue and hair of gold, Lip and cheek and brow of marble, Folded fingers, still and cold;-- O my angel, G.o.d hath called thee Where there is no growing old.
BUILDING TIME
The time of the singing of birds is come; 'Tis the happiest time of the year: They are saying, "Let's build us our summer home, For the frost-king no longer we fear."
The time of the singing of birds is come, And the time of their building, too; With a feather, a straw and a stray bit of gum They will shew what bird-builders can do.
The time of the singing of birds is come: I was eaves-dropping under the trees; And as I translated the twitter and hum, I thought the words sounded like these:
"Twirr-a-whirr, twirr-a-whirr, The young leaves are astir; We will make us a nest snug and warm On this apple-tree bough-- We are at it e'en now-- All secure from intruders and storm.
"'Tis for home, 'tis for love, 'Tis for heaven above, And our roof is the clear azure sky; The foundations we lay In this rough straw and clay, But we'll line it with moss by and by."
The time of the singing of birds is here, And if under the apple-tree bough Orlando and May would a domicile rear, Let them hear what the birds tell them now:
"Build for home, build for love, Build for heaven above, Build with music and cheer like the birds; And if palace or cot, Built of marble or what, Line your nest with the moss of kind words,"
SUNRISE
The incident here narrated occurred some years ago at the Media Training School for Feeble-Minded Children, then in care of Dr. I.