To the Memory ofMy SonTheodorick Bland Pryor
To the Memory ofMy SonTheodorick Bland Pryor
I stood at dawn by a limitless seaAnd watched the rose creep over the gray;Till the heavens were a glowing canopy!This was my day!The pale stars stole away, one by one—Like sensitive souls from the presence of Pride:The moon hung low, looking back, as the sunRose over the tide.And he, like a King, came up from the Sea!He opened my rose—unfettered my song—And quickened a heart to be true to meAll the day long.The soul that was born of a song and flowerOf tender dawn-flush, and shadowy gray,Was strengthened by Love for a bitter hourThat chilled my day.I had dwelt in the garden of the Lord!I had gathered the sweets of a summer day:I was called to stand where a flaming swordTurned every way.It spared not the weak—nor the strong—nor the dear;And following fast, like a phantom band,Famine and Fever and shuddering FearSwept o'er the land.They whispered that Hope, the angel of light,Would spread her white wings and speed her away;But she folded me close in my longest nightAnd darkest day.As of old, when the fire and tempest had passed,And an earthquake had riven the rocks, the WordIn a still small voice rose over the blast—The Voice of the Lord.And the Voice said: "Take up your lives again!Quit yourselves manfully! Stand in your lot!Let the Famine, the Fever, the Peril, the Pain,Be all forgot!"Weep no more for the lovely, the brave,The young head pillowed on a blood-stained sod;The daisy that grows on the soldier's graveLooks up to God!"The soul of the patriot-soldier standsWith a mighty host in eternal calm,And He who pressed the sword to his handsHas given the Palm."And now I stand with my face to the west,Shading mine eyes, for my glorious sunIs splendid again as he sinks to his rest—His day is done.I have lost my rose, forgotten my song,But the true heart that loved me is mine alway;The stars are alight—the way not long—I had my day!November 8, 1908.
I stood at dawn by a limitless seaAnd watched the rose creep over the gray;Till the heavens were a glowing canopy!This was my day!The pale stars stole away, one by one—Like sensitive souls from the presence of Pride:The moon hung low, looking back, as the sunRose over the tide.And he, like a King, came up from the Sea!He opened my rose—unfettered my song—And quickened a heart to be true to meAll the day long.The soul that was born of a song and flowerOf tender dawn-flush, and shadowy gray,Was strengthened by Love for a bitter hourThat chilled my day.I had dwelt in the garden of the Lord!I had gathered the sweets of a summer day:I was called to stand where a flaming swordTurned every way.It spared not the weak—nor the strong—nor the dear;And following fast, like a phantom band,Famine and Fever and shuddering FearSwept o'er the land.They whispered that Hope, the angel of light,Would spread her white wings and speed her away;But she folded me close in my longest nightAnd darkest day.As of old, when the fire and tempest had passed,And an earthquake had riven the rocks, the WordIn a still small voice rose over the blast—The Voice of the Lord.And the Voice said: "Take up your lives again!Quit yourselves manfully! Stand in your lot!Let the Famine, the Fever, the Peril, the Pain,Be all forgot!"Weep no more for the lovely, the brave,The young head pillowed on a blood-stained sod;The daisy that grows on the soldier's graveLooks up to God!"The soul of the patriot-soldier standsWith a mighty host in eternal calm,And He who pressed the sword to his handsHas given the Palm."And now I stand with my face to the west,Shading mine eyes, for my glorious sunIs splendid again as he sinks to his rest—His day is done.I have lost my rose, forgotten my song,But the true heart that loved me is mine alway;The stars are alight—the way not long—I had my day!November 8, 1908.
I stood at dawn by a limitless seaAnd watched the rose creep over the gray;Till the heavens were a glowing canopy!This was my day!The pale stars stole away, one by one—Like sensitive souls from the presence of Pride:The moon hung low, looking back, as the sunRose over the tide.And he, like a King, came up from the Sea!He opened my rose—unfettered my song—And quickened a heart to be true to meAll the day long.The soul that was born of a song and flowerOf tender dawn-flush, and shadowy gray,Was strengthened by Love for a bitter hourThat chilled my day.I had dwelt in the garden of the Lord!I had gathered the sweets of a summer day:I was called to stand where a flaming swordTurned every way.It spared not the weak—nor the strong—nor the dear;And following fast, like a phantom band,Famine and Fever and shuddering FearSwept o'er the land.They whispered that Hope, the angel of light,Would spread her white wings and speed her away;But she folded me close in my longest nightAnd darkest day.As of old, when the fire and tempest had passed,And an earthquake had riven the rocks, the WordIn a still small voice rose over the blast—The Voice of the Lord.And the Voice said: "Take up your lives again!Quit yourselves manfully! Stand in your lot!Let the Famine, the Fever, the Peril, the Pain,Be all forgot!"Weep no more for the lovely, the brave,The young head pillowed on a blood-stained sod;The daisy that grows on the soldier's graveLooks up to God!"The soul of the patriot-soldier standsWith a mighty host in eternal calm,And He who pressed the sword to his handsHas given the Palm."And now I stand with my face to the west,Shading mine eyes, for my glorious sunIs splendid again as he sinks to his rest—His day is done.I have lost my rose, forgotten my song,But the true heart that loved me is mine alway;The stars are alight—the way not long—I had my day!
I stood at dawn by a limitless seaAnd watched the rose creep over the gray;Till the heavens were a glowing canopy!This was my day!
I stood at dawn by a limitless sea
And watched the rose creep over the gray;
Till the heavens were a glowing canopy!
This was my day!
The pale stars stole away, one by one—Like sensitive souls from the presence of Pride:The moon hung low, looking back, as the sunRose over the tide.
The pale stars stole away, one by one—
Like sensitive souls from the presence of Pride:
The moon hung low, looking back, as the sun
Rose over the tide.
And he, like a King, came up from the Sea!He opened my rose—unfettered my song—And quickened a heart to be true to meAll the day long.
And he, like a King, came up from the Sea!
He opened my rose—unfettered my song—
And quickened a heart to be true to me
All the day long.
The soul that was born of a song and flowerOf tender dawn-flush, and shadowy gray,Was strengthened by Love for a bitter hourThat chilled my day.
The soul that was born of a song and flower
Of tender dawn-flush, and shadowy gray,
Was strengthened by Love for a bitter hour
That chilled my day.
I had dwelt in the garden of the Lord!I had gathered the sweets of a summer day:I was called to stand where a flaming swordTurned every way.
I had dwelt in the garden of the Lord!
I had gathered the sweets of a summer day:
I was called to stand where a flaming sword
Turned every way.
It spared not the weak—nor the strong—nor the dear;And following fast, like a phantom band,Famine and Fever and shuddering FearSwept o'er the land.
It spared not the weak—nor the strong—nor the dear;
And following fast, like a phantom band,
Famine and Fever and shuddering Fear
Swept o'er the land.
They whispered that Hope, the angel of light,Would spread her white wings and speed her away;But she folded me close in my longest nightAnd darkest day.
They whispered that Hope, the angel of light,
Would spread her white wings and speed her away;
But she folded me close in my longest night
And darkest day.
As of old, when the fire and tempest had passed,And an earthquake had riven the rocks, the WordIn a still small voice rose over the blast—The Voice of the Lord.
As of old, when the fire and tempest had passed,
And an earthquake had riven the rocks, the Word
In a still small voice rose over the blast—
The Voice of the Lord.
And the Voice said: "Take up your lives again!Quit yourselves manfully! Stand in your lot!Let the Famine, the Fever, the Peril, the Pain,Be all forgot!
And the Voice said: "Take up your lives again!
Quit yourselves manfully! Stand in your lot!
Let the Famine, the Fever, the Peril, the Pain,
Be all forgot!
"Weep no more for the lovely, the brave,The young head pillowed on a blood-stained sod;The daisy that grows on the soldier's graveLooks up to God!
"Weep no more for the lovely, the brave,
The young head pillowed on a blood-stained sod;
The daisy that grows on the soldier's grave
Looks up to God!
"The soul of the patriot-soldier standsWith a mighty host in eternal calm,And He who pressed the sword to his handsHas given the Palm."
"The soul of the patriot-soldier stands
With a mighty host in eternal calm,
And He who pressed the sword to his hands
Has given the Palm."
And now I stand with my face to the west,Shading mine eyes, for my glorious sunIs splendid again as he sinks to his rest—His day is done.
And now I stand with my face to the west,
Shading mine eyes, for my glorious sun
Is splendid again as he sinks to his rest—
His day is done.
I have lost my rose, forgotten my song,But the true heart that loved me is mine alway;The stars are alight—the way not long—I had my day!
I have lost my rose, forgotten my song,
But the true heart that loved me is mine alway;
The stars are alight—the way not long—
I had my day!
November 8, 1908.