Long have I heard the noise of battle clashAlong the windy sea that roared again;Seen helmets rise, and on the clanking plainBarbaric chieftains meet and, howling, dashTheir mailéd thousands down, with crash on crash,Like crags contending with the roaring main;Torrents of shields, like rivers of rolling rain,I have beheld within the moon’s pale flash;The moon, that, like a spirit, o’er the woodHung white as steel, glimmering the spears and swords,That shone like ripples in the iron flood,The streams of war, that beat in heathen hordesAbout their rock-like kings, whence wave-like far,Circled the battle, warrior on warrior.
Long have I heard the noise of battle clashAlong the windy sea that roared again;Seen helmets rise, and on the clanking plainBarbaric chieftains meet and, howling, dashTheir mailéd thousands down, with crash on crash,Like crags contending with the roaring main;Torrents of shields, like rivers of rolling rain,I have beheld within the moon’s pale flash;The moon, that, like a spirit, o’er the woodHung white as steel, glimmering the spears and swords,That shone like ripples in the iron flood,The streams of war, that beat in heathen hordesAbout their rock-like kings, whence wave-like far,Circled the battle, warrior on warrior.
Long have I heard the noise of battle clashAlong the windy sea that roared again;Seen helmets rise, and on the clanking plainBarbaric chieftains meet and, howling, dashTheir mailéd thousands down, with crash on crash,Like crags contending with the roaring main;Torrents of shields, like rivers of rolling rain,I have beheld within the moon’s pale flash;The moon, that, like a spirit, o’er the woodHung white as steel, glimmering the spears and swords,That shone like ripples in the iron flood,The streams of war, that beat in heathen hordesAbout their rock-like kings, whence wave-like far,Circled the battle, warrior on warrior.
The Love Chase
On, towards the purlieus of impossible space,From Death, enamoured, Life, capricious, flies:Communicated sorrow of his faceFreezing her ever backward burning eyes.
On, towards the purlieus of impossible space,From Death, enamoured, Life, capricious, flies:Communicated sorrow of his faceFreezing her ever backward burning eyes.
On, towards the purlieus of impossible space,From Death, enamoured, Life, capricious, flies:Communicated sorrow of his faceFreezing her ever backward burning eyes.
The Garden of Days
Man’s days are planted as a flower-bedWith labor’s lily and the rose of folly:Beneath grief’s cypress, pale, uncomforted,The phantom fungus blooms of melancholy.
Man’s days are planted as a flower-bedWith labor’s lily and the rose of folly:Beneath grief’s cypress, pale, uncomforted,The phantom fungus blooms of melancholy.
Man’s days are planted as a flower-bedWith labor’s lily and the rose of folly:Beneath grief’s cypress, pale, uncomforted,The phantom fungus blooms of melancholy.
Faith and Facts
With starry gold Night still endorses whatMan’s soul hath written, guessing at the skies:Day on Night’s scribble drops a fiery blot,And ’thwart the writing scrawls, “The lie of lies.”
With starry gold Night still endorses whatMan’s soul hath written, guessing at the skies:Day on Night’s scribble drops a fiery blot,And ’thwart the writing scrawls, “The lie of lies.”
With starry gold Night still endorses whatMan’s soul hath written, guessing at the skies:Day on Night’s scribble drops a fiery blot,And ’thwart the writing scrawls, “The lie of lies.”
Hell and Heaven
And it may be that, seamed with iron scars,One in vast Hell oft lifts fierce eyes above,And one, inviolate as God’s high stars,Looks from far Heaven, sighing: “Alas, O love!”
And it may be that, seamed with iron scars,One in vast Hell oft lifts fierce eyes above,And one, inviolate as God’s high stars,Looks from far Heaven, sighing: “Alas, O love!”
And it may be that, seamed with iron scars,One in vast Hell oft lifts fierce eyes above,And one, inviolate as God’s high stars,Looks from far Heaven, sighing: “Alas, O love!”
Alchemy
Into her heart’s young crucible Life threwAffliction first, then Faith,—by which is meantHope and Humility:—Love touched the two,And, lo! the golden blessing of Content.
Into her heart’s young crucible Life threwAffliction first, then Faith,—by which is meantHope and Humility:—Love touched the two,And, lo! the golden blessing of Content.
Into her heart’s young crucible Life threwAffliction first, then Faith,—by which is meantHope and Humility:—Love touched the two,And, lo! the golden blessing of Content.
Trial
As oft as Hope weighed, coaxing, on this arm,On that Despair dashed heavily his fist:He knew no way out of Grief’s night and storm,Until a child, named Effort, came and kissed.
As oft as Hope weighed, coaxing, on this arm,On that Despair dashed heavily his fist:He knew no way out of Grief’s night and storm,Until a child, named Effort, came and kissed.
As oft as Hope weighed, coaxing, on this arm,On that Despair dashed heavily his fist:He knew no way out of Grief’s night and storm,Until a child, named Effort, came and kissed.
Nightmare
Some obscene drug in her dull draught Sleep gave,For dead I lay, yet heard a man-faced beastDig, dig with wolfish fingers in my grave,With horrible laughter to a horrible feast.
Some obscene drug in her dull draught Sleep gave,For dead I lay, yet heard a man-faced beastDig, dig with wolfish fingers in my grave,With horrible laughter to a horrible feast.
Some obscene drug in her dull draught Sleep gave,For dead I lay, yet heard a man-faced beastDig, dig with wolfish fingers in my grave,With horrible laughter to a horrible feast.
Clairvoyance
Some few may pierce the phantom fogs, that veilLife’s stormy seas, into futurity,And see the Flying Dutchman’s ominous sail,Portentous of dark things that are to be.
Some few may pierce the phantom fogs, that veilLife’s stormy seas, into futurity,And see the Flying Dutchman’s ominous sail,Portentous of dark things that are to be.
Some few may pierce the phantom fogs, that veilLife’s stormy seas, into futurity,And see the Flying Dutchman’s ominous sail,Portentous of dark things that are to be.
The Flying Dutchman
Through hissing scud, mad mist, and roaring rain,On thundering seas, I see her drive and drive,Crowding wild canvas ’gainst the hurricane,Her demon ports with glow-worm lamps alive.
Through hissing scud, mad mist, and roaring rain,On thundering seas, I see her drive and drive,Crowding wild canvas ’gainst the hurricane,Her demon ports with glow-worm lamps alive.
Through hissing scud, mad mist, and roaring rain,On thundering seas, I see her drive and drive,Crowding wild canvas ’gainst the hurricane,Her demon ports with glow-worm lamps alive.
Destiny
Within the volume of the universeWith worlds she writes irrevocable laws:From everlasting unto everlasting hersThe evolutions of effect and cause.
Within the volume of the universeWith worlds she writes irrevocable laws:From everlasting unto everlasting hersThe evolutions of effect and cause.
Within the volume of the universeWith worlds she writes irrevocable laws:From everlasting unto everlasting hersThe evolutions of effect and cause.
Fame, the Mermaid
A mirror, brilliant as a beautiful star,She lifts and sings to her own loveliness:Not till her light and song have lured him farDoes man behold the lie he did not guess.
A mirror, brilliant as a beautiful star,She lifts and sings to her own loveliness:Not till her light and song have lured him farDoes man behold the lie he did not guess.
A mirror, brilliant as a beautiful star,She lifts and sings to her own loveliness:Not till her light and song have lured him farDoes man behold the lie he did not guess.
The Hours
With stars and dew and sunlight in their hair,They come, the daughters of the Day, who saith:“The gifts my children bring are rest and care,Of which the last is Life, the first is Death.”
With stars and dew and sunlight in their hair,They come, the daughters of the Day, who saith:“The gifts my children bring are rest and care,Of which the last is Life, the first is Death.”
With stars and dew and sunlight in their hair,They come, the daughters of the Day, who saith:“The gifts my children bring are rest and care,Of which the last is Life, the first is Death.”
Despair
So sick at heart, so weary of the sun,In her sad halls the Soul sits desolate,Her Hope surrendered to Oblivion,Whose coal-black charger neighs outside the gate.
So sick at heart, so weary of the sun,In her sad halls the Soul sits desolate,Her Hope surrendered to Oblivion,Whose coal-black charger neighs outside the gate.
So sick at heart, so weary of the sun,In her sad halls the Soul sits desolate,Her Hope surrendered to Oblivion,Whose coal-black charger neighs outside the gate.
The Misanthrope
Shut in with its own selfishness his soulSees,—as a screech-owl in a dead tree might,Blinking avoided daylight through one hole,—The white world blackened by his own dull sight.
Shut in with its own selfishness his soulSees,—as a screech-owl in a dead tree might,Blinking avoided daylight through one hole,—The white world blackened by his own dull sight.
Shut in with its own selfishness his soulSees,—as a screech-owl in a dead tree might,Blinking avoided daylight through one hole,—The white world blackened by his own dull sight.
The Hun
On splendid infamies—a thousand yearsHeaven tolerated—like a Word that trodIncarnate of the Law, vast wrath and tearsIn pagan eyes, behold the Scourge of God!
On splendid infamies—a thousand yearsHeaven tolerated—like a Word that trodIncarnate of the Law, vast wrath and tearsIn pagan eyes, behold the Scourge of God!
On splendid infamies—a thousand yearsHeaven tolerated—like a Word that trodIncarnate of the Law, vast wrath and tearsIn pagan eyes, behold the Scourge of God!
Greece
The godlike sister of all lands she standsBefore the World, to whom she gave her heart,Still testifying with degenerate handsHer bygone glory in enduring art.
The godlike sister of all lands she standsBefore the World, to whom she gave her heart,Still testifying with degenerate handsHer bygone glory in enduring art.
The godlike sister of all lands she standsBefore the World, to whom she gave her heart,Still testifying with degenerate handsHer bygone glory in enduring art.
Egypt
With ages weighed as with the pyramidsAnd Karnac wrecks, still—out of Sphinx-like eyesBeneath the apathetic lotus-lids—With Memnon moan her granite heart defies.
With ages weighed as with the pyramidsAnd Karnac wrecks, still—out of Sphinx-like eyesBeneath the apathetic lotus-lids—With Memnon moan her granite heart defies.
With ages weighed as with the pyramidsAnd Karnac wrecks, still—out of Sphinx-like eyesBeneath the apathetic lotus-lids—With Memnon moan her granite heart defies.
Poe
Wild wandering witch-lights and, dark-wing’d above,A raven; and, within a sculptured tomb,Beside the corpse of Beauty and of Love,Song’s everlasting-lamp that lights the gloom.
Wild wandering witch-lights and, dark-wing’d above,A raven; and, within a sculptured tomb,Beside the corpse of Beauty and of Love,Song’s everlasting-lamp that lights the gloom.
Wild wandering witch-lights and, dark-wing’d above,A raven; and, within a sculptured tomb,Beside the corpse of Beauty and of Love,Song’s everlasting-lamp that lights the gloom.
EgyptPage 262Quatrains
EgyptPage 262Quatrains
EgyptPage 262
Quatrains
Hawthorne
Dim lands and dimmer walls, where Magic slipsA couch of velvet sleep beneath Romance:Where Speculation, Prince-like, kneels; his lipsFearing to break the long-unbroken trance.
Dim lands and dimmer walls, where Magic slipsA couch of velvet sleep beneath Romance:Where Speculation, Prince-like, kneels; his lipsFearing to break the long-unbroken trance.
Dim lands and dimmer walls, where Magic slipsA couch of velvet sleep beneath Romance:Where Speculation, Prince-like, kneels; his lipsFearing to break the long-unbroken trance.
Emerson
Our New-World Chrysostom, whose golden tongueThrough Nature preached philosophy and truth:Old intimate of loveliness he sung,Wise and instructing with the lips of youth.
Our New-World Chrysostom, whose golden tongueThrough Nature preached philosophy and truth:Old intimate of loveliness he sung,Wise and instructing with the lips of youth.
Our New-World Chrysostom, whose golden tongueThrough Nature preached philosophy and truth:Old intimate of loveliness he sung,Wise and instructing with the lips of youth.
Jaafer the Vizier
Lutes, odorous torches, slaves and dancing girlsIn gardens by a moonlit waterside,And one whose wise lips scatter words like pearls—Behold the true Haroun whom naught may hide!
Lutes, odorous torches, slaves and dancing girlsIn gardens by a moonlit waterside,And one whose wise lips scatter words like pearls—Behold the true Haroun whom naught may hide!
Lutes, odorous torches, slaves and dancing girlsIn gardens by a moonlit waterside,And one whose wise lips scatter words like pearls—Behold the true Haroun whom naught may hide!
Their only thought religion,What Christmas joys had they,The stern, staunch Pilgrim Fathers whoKnew never a holiday?—A log-church in the clearing’Mid solitudes of snow,The wild-beast and the wilderness,And lurking Indian foe.No time had they for pleasure,Whom God had put to school;A sermon was their Christmas cheer,A psalm their only Yule.They deemed it joy sufficient,—Nor would Christ take it ill,—That service to himself and GodEmployed their spirits still.And so through faith and prayerTheir powers were renewed,And hearts made strong to hew a world,And tame a solitude.A type of revolution,Wrought from an iron plan,In the largest mold of libertyGod cast the Puritan.A better land they founded,That Freedom had for bride,The shackles of old despotismStruck from her limbs and side.With faith within to guide them,And courage to perform,A nation, from a wilderness,They hewed with their strong arm.For liberty to worship,And right to do and dare,They faced the savage and the stormWith voices raised in prayer.For God it was who summoned,And God it was who led,And God would not forsake the loveThat must be clothed and fed.Great need had they of courage!Great need of faith had they!And, lacking these,—how otherwiseFor us had been this day!
Their only thought religion,What Christmas joys had they,The stern, staunch Pilgrim Fathers whoKnew never a holiday?—A log-church in the clearing’Mid solitudes of snow,The wild-beast and the wilderness,And lurking Indian foe.No time had they for pleasure,Whom God had put to school;A sermon was their Christmas cheer,A psalm their only Yule.They deemed it joy sufficient,—Nor would Christ take it ill,—That service to himself and GodEmployed their spirits still.And so through faith and prayerTheir powers were renewed,And hearts made strong to hew a world,And tame a solitude.A type of revolution,Wrought from an iron plan,In the largest mold of libertyGod cast the Puritan.A better land they founded,That Freedom had for bride,The shackles of old despotismStruck from her limbs and side.With faith within to guide them,And courage to perform,A nation, from a wilderness,They hewed with their strong arm.For liberty to worship,And right to do and dare,They faced the savage and the stormWith voices raised in prayer.For God it was who summoned,And God it was who led,And God would not forsake the loveThat must be clothed and fed.Great need had they of courage!Great need of faith had they!And, lacking these,—how otherwiseFor us had been this day!
Their only thought religion,What Christmas joys had they,The stern, staunch Pilgrim Fathers whoKnew never a holiday?—
A log-church in the clearing’Mid solitudes of snow,The wild-beast and the wilderness,And lurking Indian foe.
No time had they for pleasure,Whom God had put to school;A sermon was their Christmas cheer,A psalm their only Yule.
They deemed it joy sufficient,—Nor would Christ take it ill,—That service to himself and GodEmployed their spirits still.
And so through faith and prayerTheir powers were renewed,And hearts made strong to hew a world,And tame a solitude.
A type of revolution,Wrought from an iron plan,In the largest mold of libertyGod cast the Puritan.
A better land they founded,That Freedom had for bride,The shackles of old despotismStruck from her limbs and side.
With faith within to guide them,And courage to perform,A nation, from a wilderness,They hewed with their strong arm.
For liberty to worship,And right to do and dare,They faced the savage and the stormWith voices raised in prayer.
For God it was who summoned,And God it was who led,And God would not forsake the loveThat must be clothed and fed.
Great need had they of courage!Great need of faith had they!And, lacking these,—how otherwiseFor us had been this day!
Lift up thy torch, O Year, and let us seeWhat DestinyHath made thee heir to, at nativity!—Doubt, some call Faith; and ancient Wrong and Might,Whom some name Right;And Darkness, that the purblind world calls Light.Despair, with Hope’s brave form; and Hate, who goesIn Friendship’s clothes;And Joy, the smiling mask of many woes.Neglect, whom Merit serves; Lust, to whom, see,Love bends the knee;And Selfishness, who preacheth charity.Vice, in whose dungeon Virtue lies in chains;And Cares and Pains,That on the throne of Pleasure hold their reigns.Corruption, known as Honesty; and FameThat’s but a name;And Innocence, whose other name is Shame.And Folly men call Wisdom here, forsooth;And, like a youth,Fair Falsehood, whom the many take for Truth.Abundance, who hath Famine’s house in lease;And, high ’mid these,War, blood-black, on the spotless shrine of Peace.Lift up thy torch, O Year! make clear our sight!Deep lies the nightAround us, and God grants us little light!
Lift up thy torch, O Year, and let us seeWhat DestinyHath made thee heir to, at nativity!—Doubt, some call Faith; and ancient Wrong and Might,Whom some name Right;And Darkness, that the purblind world calls Light.Despair, with Hope’s brave form; and Hate, who goesIn Friendship’s clothes;And Joy, the smiling mask of many woes.Neglect, whom Merit serves; Lust, to whom, see,Love bends the knee;And Selfishness, who preacheth charity.Vice, in whose dungeon Virtue lies in chains;And Cares and Pains,That on the throne of Pleasure hold their reigns.Corruption, known as Honesty; and FameThat’s but a name;And Innocence, whose other name is Shame.And Folly men call Wisdom here, forsooth;And, like a youth,Fair Falsehood, whom the many take for Truth.Abundance, who hath Famine’s house in lease;And, high ’mid these,War, blood-black, on the spotless shrine of Peace.Lift up thy torch, O Year! make clear our sight!Deep lies the nightAround us, and God grants us little light!
Lift up thy torch, O Year, and let us seeWhat DestinyHath made thee heir to, at nativity!—
Doubt, some call Faith; and ancient Wrong and Might,Whom some name Right;And Darkness, that the purblind world calls Light.
Despair, with Hope’s brave form; and Hate, who goesIn Friendship’s clothes;And Joy, the smiling mask of many woes.
Neglect, whom Merit serves; Lust, to whom, see,Love bends the knee;And Selfishness, who preacheth charity.
Vice, in whose dungeon Virtue lies in chains;And Cares and Pains,That on the throne of Pleasure hold their reigns.
Corruption, known as Honesty; and FameThat’s but a name;And Innocence, whose other name is Shame.
And Folly men call Wisdom here, forsooth;And, like a youth,Fair Falsehood, whom the many take for Truth.
Abundance, who hath Famine’s house in lease;And, high ’mid these,War, blood-black, on the spotless shrine of Peace.
Lift up thy torch, O Year! make clear our sight!Deep lies the nightAround us, and God grants us little light!
How shall I greet him—him who seemsTo me the greatest of our singers?As one who hears Sierra streams,And, gazing under arching fingers,Feels all the eagle feels that screams,The savage dreams, what time he lingers?Son of the West, out of the WestWe heard thee sing,—who still allurest,—That land where God sits manifest;That land where man stands freest, surest;That land, our wildest and our best,The grandest and the purest.Wild hast thou sung,—as some strange bird,—Of gold and men and peaks that glistened,Of seas and stars, and we have heard—And one, whose soul cried out and listened,He sends his young, unworthy wordTo thee the Master’s hand hath christened
How shall I greet him—him who seemsTo me the greatest of our singers?As one who hears Sierra streams,And, gazing under arching fingers,Feels all the eagle feels that screams,The savage dreams, what time he lingers?Son of the West, out of the WestWe heard thee sing,—who still allurest,—That land where God sits manifest;That land where man stands freest, surest;That land, our wildest and our best,The grandest and the purest.Wild hast thou sung,—as some strange bird,—Of gold and men and peaks that glistened,Of seas and stars, and we have heard—And one, whose soul cried out and listened,He sends his young, unworthy wordTo thee the Master’s hand hath christened
How shall I greet him—him who seemsTo me the greatest of our singers?As one who hears Sierra streams,And, gazing under arching fingers,Feels all the eagle feels that screams,The savage dreams, what time he lingers?
Son of the West, out of the WestWe heard thee sing,—who still allurest,—That land where God sits manifest;That land where man stands freest, surest;That land, our wildest and our best,The grandest and the purest.
Wild hast thou sung,—as some strange bird,—Of gold and men and peaks that glistened,Of seas and stars, and we have heard—And one, whose soul cried out and listened,He sends his young, unworthy wordTo thee the Master’s hand hath christened
Behold her stand, with power thunder-lipped,And eagle-thoughts that soar above the stormConvulsing ledges of the mountain Wrong!Beside her Liberty, whose sword is tippedWith lightning, towering a majestic form,Her voice like battle in a freedom song.America, what hates may soil thy hands?What kingdoms face with insult thy bold brow?Oppressions brave the anger in thine eyes?—Behind thee dies the darkness from the lands:Before thee mounts the glory of the Now:Around thee sit the sessions of the skies.Thine is the land where Progress leans to heedThe lessons taught of Heaven and of God,The golden texts of morning and of night:The science of thy soul hath taught thee speed!No precedent of Nations makes thee nod!Brow-bound with bolts, thy feet are shod with light.America, beneath thy iron heelWhat Old World tyrannies, that crushed the poor,Writhe out their lives, abolished in their ire!Around thine arms, wrapped strong in fourfold steel,What Old World injuries have failed to moorBarques thou hast beaconed like a pillared fire!Thou speakest, and Oppression’s mists divide;And gyves of Superstition and of LustFall shattered from the World; and Truth and LoveAssume their places, beautiful in pride:And stars spring up around them from the dust,The dust of hopes long fallen from above.Onward thou movest: where thy steps are bentThe Earth is civilized: the desert plainBlossoms—is citied with vast industry.—Behold! the pagan, Violence, is spent!His idol, Ignorance, is rent in twainBefore thy splendor that makes all men free.
Behold her stand, with power thunder-lipped,And eagle-thoughts that soar above the stormConvulsing ledges of the mountain Wrong!Beside her Liberty, whose sword is tippedWith lightning, towering a majestic form,Her voice like battle in a freedom song.America, what hates may soil thy hands?What kingdoms face with insult thy bold brow?Oppressions brave the anger in thine eyes?—Behind thee dies the darkness from the lands:Before thee mounts the glory of the Now:Around thee sit the sessions of the skies.Thine is the land where Progress leans to heedThe lessons taught of Heaven and of God,The golden texts of morning and of night:The science of thy soul hath taught thee speed!No precedent of Nations makes thee nod!Brow-bound with bolts, thy feet are shod with light.America, beneath thy iron heelWhat Old World tyrannies, that crushed the poor,Writhe out their lives, abolished in their ire!Around thine arms, wrapped strong in fourfold steel,What Old World injuries have failed to moorBarques thou hast beaconed like a pillared fire!Thou speakest, and Oppression’s mists divide;And gyves of Superstition and of LustFall shattered from the World; and Truth and LoveAssume their places, beautiful in pride:And stars spring up around them from the dust,The dust of hopes long fallen from above.Onward thou movest: where thy steps are bentThe Earth is civilized: the desert plainBlossoms—is citied with vast industry.—Behold! the pagan, Violence, is spent!His idol, Ignorance, is rent in twainBefore thy splendor that makes all men free.
Behold her stand, with power thunder-lipped,And eagle-thoughts that soar above the stormConvulsing ledges of the mountain Wrong!Beside her Liberty, whose sword is tippedWith lightning, towering a majestic form,Her voice like battle in a freedom song.
America, what hates may soil thy hands?What kingdoms face with insult thy bold brow?Oppressions brave the anger in thine eyes?—Behind thee dies the darkness from the lands:Before thee mounts the glory of the Now:Around thee sit the sessions of the skies.
Thine is the land where Progress leans to heedThe lessons taught of Heaven and of God,The golden texts of morning and of night:The science of thy soul hath taught thee speed!No precedent of Nations makes thee nod!Brow-bound with bolts, thy feet are shod with light.
America, beneath thy iron heelWhat Old World tyrannies, that crushed the poor,Writhe out their lives, abolished in their ire!Around thine arms, wrapped strong in fourfold steel,What Old World injuries have failed to moorBarques thou hast beaconed like a pillared fire!
Thou speakest, and Oppression’s mists divide;And gyves of Superstition and of LustFall shattered from the World; and Truth and LoveAssume their places, beautiful in pride:And stars spring up around them from the dust,The dust of hopes long fallen from above.
Onward thou movest: where thy steps are bentThe Earth is civilized: the desert plainBlossoms—is citied with vast industry.—Behold! the pagan, Violence, is spent!His idol, Ignorance, is rent in twainBefore thy splendor that makes all men free.
Written February 24, 1898, on reading the latest news concerning the battleship Maine, blown up in Havana Harbor, February fifteenth.
The fathers of our fathers, they were men!—What are we who now stand idle while we see our seamen slain?Who behold our flag dishonored, and still pause!Are we blind to her duplicity, the treachery of Spain?To the rights, she scorns, of nations and their laws?Let us rise, a mighty people, let us wipe away the stain!Shall we wait till she defile us for a cause?—The fathers of our fathers, they were men!
The fathers of our fathers, they were men!—What are we who now stand idle while we see our seamen slain?Who behold our flag dishonored, and still pause!Are we blind to her duplicity, the treachery of Spain?To the rights, she scorns, of nations and their laws?Let us rise, a mighty people, let us wipe away the stain!Shall we wait till she defile us for a cause?—The fathers of our fathers, they were men!
The fathers of our fathers, they were men!—What are we who now stand idle while we see our seamen slain?Who behold our flag dishonored, and still pause!Are we blind to her duplicity, the treachery of Spain?To the rights, she scorns, of nations and their laws?Let us rise, a mighty people, let us wipe away the stain!Shall we wait till she defile us for a cause?—The fathers of our fathers, they were men!
The fathers of our fathers, they were men!—Had they nursed delay as we do? had they sat thus deaf and dumb,With these cowards compromising year by year?Never hearing what they should hear, never saying what should come,While the courteous mask of Spain still hid a sneer!No! such news had ’roused their natures like a rolling battle-drum—God of Earth! and God of Battles! do we fear?—The fathers of our fathers, they were men!
The fathers of our fathers, they were men!—Had they nursed delay as we do? had they sat thus deaf and dumb,With these cowards compromising year by year?Never hearing what they should hear, never saying what should come,While the courteous mask of Spain still hid a sneer!No! such news had ’roused their natures like a rolling battle-drum—God of Earth! and God of Battles! do we fear?—The fathers of our fathers, they were men!
The fathers of our fathers, they were men!—Had they nursed delay as we do? had they sat thus deaf and dumb,With these cowards compromising year by year?Never hearing what they should hear, never saying what should come,While the courteous mask of Spain still hid a sneer!No! such news had ’roused their natures like a rolling battle-drum—God of Earth! and God of Battles! do we fear?—The fathers of our fathers, they were men!
The fathers of our fathers, they were men!—What are we who are so cautious, never venturing too far!Shall we, at the cost of honor, still keep peace?While we see the thousands starving and the struggling Cuban star,And the outraged form of Freedom on her knees!Let our long, steel ocean-bloodhounds, adamantine dogs of war,Sweep the yellow Spanish panther from the seas!—The fathers of our fathers, they were men!
The fathers of our fathers, they were men!—What are we who are so cautious, never venturing too far!Shall we, at the cost of honor, still keep peace?While we see the thousands starving and the struggling Cuban star,And the outraged form of Freedom on her knees!Let our long, steel ocean-bloodhounds, adamantine dogs of war,Sweep the yellow Spanish panther from the seas!—The fathers of our fathers, they were men!
The fathers of our fathers, they were men!—What are we who are so cautious, never venturing too far!Shall we, at the cost of honor, still keep peace?While we see the thousands starving and the struggling Cuban star,And the outraged form of Freedom on her knees!Let our long, steel ocean-bloodhounds, adamantine dogs of war,Sweep the yellow Spanish panther from the seas!—The fathers of our fathers, they were men!
Behold! we have gathered together our battleships near and afar;Their decks, they are cleared for action; their guns, they are shotted for war:From the East to the West there is hurry; in the North and the South a pealOf hammers in fort and shipyard, and the clamor and clang of steel;And the roar and the rush of engines, and clanking of derrick and crane—Thou art weighed in the Scales and found wanting! the balance of God, O Spain!
Behold! we have gathered together our battleships near and afar;Their decks, they are cleared for action; their guns, they are shotted for war:From the East to the West there is hurry; in the North and the South a pealOf hammers in fort and shipyard, and the clamor and clang of steel;And the roar and the rush of engines, and clanking of derrick and crane—Thou art weighed in the Scales and found wanting! the balance of God, O Spain!
Behold! we have gathered together our battleships near and afar;Their decks, they are cleared for action; their guns, they are shotted for war:From the East to the West there is hurry; in the North and the South a pealOf hammers in fort and shipyard, and the clamor and clang of steel;And the roar and the rush of engines, and clanking of derrick and crane—Thou art weighed in the Scales and found wanting! the balance of God, O Spain!
Behold! I have stood on the mountains, and this was writ in the sky:—“She is weighed in the Scales and found wanting! the balance God holds on high!”The balance he once weighed Babylon, the Mother of Harlots, in:One scale holds thy pride and thy power and empire, begotten of sin;Heavy with woe and torture, the crimes of a thousand years,Mortared and welded together with fire and blood and tears:In the other, for justice and mercy, a blade with never a stain,Is laid the Sword of Liberty, and the balance dips, O Spain!
Behold! I have stood on the mountains, and this was writ in the sky:—“She is weighed in the Scales and found wanting! the balance God holds on high!”The balance he once weighed Babylon, the Mother of Harlots, in:One scale holds thy pride and thy power and empire, begotten of sin;Heavy with woe and torture, the crimes of a thousand years,Mortared and welded together with fire and blood and tears:In the other, for justice and mercy, a blade with never a stain,Is laid the Sword of Liberty, and the balance dips, O Spain!
Behold! I have stood on the mountains, and this was writ in the sky:—“She is weighed in the Scales and found wanting! the balance God holds on high!”The balance he once weighed Babylon, the Mother of Harlots, in:One scale holds thy pride and thy power and empire, begotten of sin;Heavy with woe and torture, the crimes of a thousand years,Mortared and welded together with fire and blood and tears:In the other, for justice and mercy, a blade with never a stain,Is laid the Sword of Liberty, and the balance dips, O Spain!
Summon thy vessels together! great is thy need for these!—Cristobal Colon, Vizcaya, Oquendo, and Maria Terese—Let them be strong and many, for a vision I had by night,That the ancient wrongs thou hast done the world came howling to the fight:From the New-World’s shores they gathered, Inca and Aztec slain,To the Cuban shot but yesterday, and our own dead seamen, Spain!
Summon thy vessels together! great is thy need for these!—Cristobal Colon, Vizcaya, Oquendo, and Maria Terese—Let them be strong and many, for a vision I had by night,That the ancient wrongs thou hast done the world came howling to the fight:From the New-World’s shores they gathered, Inca and Aztec slain,To the Cuban shot but yesterday, and our own dead seamen, Spain!
Summon thy vessels together! great is thy need for these!—Cristobal Colon, Vizcaya, Oquendo, and Maria Terese—Let them be strong and many, for a vision I had by night,That the ancient wrongs thou hast done the world came howling to the fight:From the New-World’s shores they gathered, Inca and Aztec slain,To the Cuban shot but yesterday, and our own dead seamen, Spain!
Summon thy ships together, gather a mighty fleet!For a strong, young Nation is arming, that never hath known defeat.Summon thy ships together, there by thy blood-stained sands!For a shadowy army gathers with manacled feet and hands;A shadowy host of sorrows and shames, too black to tell,That reach, with their horrible wounds, for thee to drag thee down to Hell:A myriad phantoms and spectres, thou warrest against in vain—Thou art weighed in the Scales and found wanting! the balance of God, O Spain!May, 1898.
Summon thy ships together, gather a mighty fleet!For a strong, young Nation is arming, that never hath known defeat.Summon thy ships together, there by thy blood-stained sands!For a shadowy army gathers with manacled feet and hands;A shadowy host of sorrows and shames, too black to tell,That reach, with their horrible wounds, for thee to drag thee down to Hell:A myriad phantoms and spectres, thou warrest against in vain—Thou art weighed in the Scales and found wanting! the balance of God, O Spain!May, 1898.
Summon thy ships together, gather a mighty fleet!For a strong, young Nation is arming, that never hath known defeat.Summon thy ships together, there by thy blood-stained sands!For a shadowy army gathers with manacled feet and hands;A shadowy host of sorrows and shames, too black to tell,That reach, with their horrible wounds, for thee to drag thee down to Hell:A myriad phantoms and spectres, thou warrest against in vain—Thou art weighed in the Scales and found wanting! the balance of God, O Spain!May, 1898.
High on the world did our fathers of old,Under the Stars and Stripes,Blazon the name that we now must uphold,Under the Stars and Stripes.Vast in the past they have builded an arch,Over which Freedom has lighted her torch—Follow it! follow it! come, let us marchUnder the Stars and Stripes!
High on the world did our fathers of old,Under the Stars and Stripes,Blazon the name that we now must uphold,Under the Stars and Stripes.Vast in the past they have builded an arch,Over which Freedom has lighted her torch—Follow it! follow it! come, let us marchUnder the Stars and Stripes!
High on the world did our fathers of old,Under the Stars and Stripes,Blazon the name that we now must uphold,Under the Stars and Stripes.Vast in the past they have builded an arch,Over which Freedom has lighted her torch—Follow it! follow it! come, let us marchUnder the Stars and Stripes!
We in whose bodies the blood of these runs,Under the Stars and Stripes,We will acquit us as sons of their sons,Under the Stars and Stripes.Ever for justice, our heel upon wrong,We in the might of our vengeance thrice strong—Rally together! come marching alongUnder the Stars and Stripes!
We in whose bodies the blood of these runs,Under the Stars and Stripes,We will acquit us as sons of their sons,Under the Stars and Stripes.Ever for justice, our heel upon wrong,We in the might of our vengeance thrice strong—Rally together! come marching alongUnder the Stars and Stripes!
We in whose bodies the blood of these runs,Under the Stars and Stripes,We will acquit us as sons of their sons,Under the Stars and Stripes.Ever for justice, our heel upon wrong,We in the might of our vengeance thrice strong—Rally together! come marching alongUnder the Stars and Stripes!
Out of our strength and a nation’s great need,Under the Stars and Stripes,Heroes again as of old we shall breed,Under the Stars and Stripes.Broad to the winds be our banner unfurled!Straight from our guns let defiance be hurled!God on our side, we will battle the world,Under the Stars and Stripes!May, 1898.
Out of our strength and a nation’s great need,Under the Stars and Stripes,Heroes again as of old we shall breed,Under the Stars and Stripes.Broad to the winds be our banner unfurled!Straight from our guns let defiance be hurled!God on our side, we will battle the world,Under the Stars and Stripes!May, 1898.
Out of our strength and a nation’s great need,Under the Stars and Stripes,Heroes again as of old we shall breed,Under the Stars and Stripes.Broad to the winds be our banner unfurled!Straight from our guns let defiance be hurled!God on our side, we will battle the world,Under the Stars and Stripes!May, 1898.
Lord God, who mad’st Spain’s vessels meltBefore the flame our squadrons dealt,And Santiago’s mountain beltRock near and farWith thunder of our ships of steel,Keep us still humble! help us kneelIn prayer with hearts as great to heal,As strong in war!
Lord God, who mad’st Spain’s vessels meltBefore the flame our squadrons dealt,And Santiago’s mountain beltRock near and farWith thunder of our ships of steel,Keep us still humble! help us kneelIn prayer with hearts as great to heal,As strong in war!
Lord God, who mad’st Spain’s vessels meltBefore the flame our squadrons dealt,And Santiago’s mountain beltRock near and farWith thunder of our ships of steel,Keep us still humble! help us kneelIn prayer with hearts as great to heal,As strong in war!
When turret booms to turret; whenThe steam goes up of battle, thenLord God, we pray Thee, keep our menTill all is o’er:Should pride of conquest then misleadOur House and Senate, Lord, we pleadKeep Thou our cause as clean of greedAs ’twas before.
When turret booms to turret; whenThe steam goes up of battle, thenLord God, we pray Thee, keep our menTill all is o’er:Should pride of conquest then misleadOur House and Senate, Lord, we pleadKeep Thou our cause as clean of greedAs ’twas before.
When turret booms to turret; whenThe steam goes up of battle, thenLord God, we pray Thee, keep our menTill all is o’er:Should pride of conquest then misleadOur House and Senate, Lord, we pleadKeep Thou our cause as clean of greedAs ’twas before.
And when the batteries there of Spain,From shore and headland, hurricaneTheir roaring sleet and crashing rainOf shell and shot;When drums beat up and bugles blow,And rank on rank we face the foe,In life and death, in joy and woe,Forget us not.
And when the batteries there of Spain,From shore and headland, hurricaneTheir roaring sleet and crashing rainOf shell and shot;When drums beat up and bugles blow,And rank on rank we face the foe,In life and death, in joy and woe,Forget us not.
And when the batteries there of Spain,From shore and headland, hurricaneTheir roaring sleet and crashing rainOf shell and shot;When drums beat up and bugles blow,And rank on rank we face the foe,In life and death, in joy and woe,Forget us not.
Not for ourselves we pray to Thee;But for the cause of liberty,Lord God!—Let old Oppression seeHow o’er her coastsOur Eagle’s fierce, majestic formSoars through the lightning and the stormBeneath thy all protecting arm,Lord God of Hosts!July 4th, 1898.
Not for ourselves we pray to Thee;But for the cause of liberty,Lord God!—Let old Oppression seeHow o’er her coastsOur Eagle’s fierce, majestic formSoars through the lightning and the stormBeneath thy all protecting arm,Lord God of Hosts!July 4th, 1898.
Not for ourselves we pray to Thee;But for the cause of liberty,Lord God!—Let old Oppression seeHow o’er her coastsOur Eagle’s fierce, majestic formSoars through the lightning and the stormBeneath thy all protecting arm,Lord God of Hosts!July 4th, 1898.
The old enthusiasmsAre dead, quite dead, in me;Dead the aspiring spasmsOf art and poesy,That opened magic chasms,Once, of wild mystery,In youth’s rich Araby,Aladdin-wondrous chasms.The longing and the careAre mine; and, helplessly,The heartache and despairFor what can never be.More than my mortal shareOf sad mortality,It seems, God gives to me,More than my mortal share.O world! O time! O fate!Remorseless trinity!Let not your wheel abateIts iron rotary!—Turn round! nor make me wait,Bound to it neck and knee,Hope’s final agony!—Turn round! nor make me wait.
The old enthusiasmsAre dead, quite dead, in me;Dead the aspiring spasmsOf art and poesy,That opened magic chasms,Once, of wild mystery,In youth’s rich Araby,Aladdin-wondrous chasms.The longing and the careAre mine; and, helplessly,The heartache and despairFor what can never be.More than my mortal shareOf sad mortality,It seems, God gives to me,More than my mortal share.O world! O time! O fate!Remorseless trinity!Let not your wheel abateIts iron rotary!—Turn round! nor make me wait,Bound to it neck and knee,Hope’s final agony!—Turn round! nor make me wait.
The old enthusiasmsAre dead, quite dead, in me;Dead the aspiring spasmsOf art and poesy,That opened magic chasms,Once, of wild mystery,In youth’s rich Araby,Aladdin-wondrous chasms.
The longing and the careAre mine; and, helplessly,The heartache and despairFor what can never be.More than my mortal shareOf sad mortality,It seems, God gives to me,More than my mortal share.
O world! O time! O fate!Remorseless trinity!Let not your wheel abateIts iron rotary!—Turn round! nor make me wait,Bound to it neck and knee,Hope’s final agony!—Turn round! nor make me wait.
They took him into confidence—each oakOf the far forest: and all day he satHearing of Nature from an autocrat,An oak—so old, Dodona might have spokeIts infant oracles through it; that, partOf the oracular beauty of the gods,Yet irresponsible, down in its heartStill felt the rapture of their periods.They took him into confidence—the skies;And all night long he lay beneath one star,Hearing of God.... One that was choristerAt Earth’s first morning; that beheld fierce eyesOf rebel angels, and the birth of Hell;Whom God set over Eden and o’er them,The Two, as destiny; that did foretellHow Christ lay born at far-off Bethlehem.
They took him into confidence—each oakOf the far forest: and all day he satHearing of Nature from an autocrat,An oak—so old, Dodona might have spokeIts infant oracles through it; that, partOf the oracular beauty of the gods,Yet irresponsible, down in its heartStill felt the rapture of their periods.They took him into confidence—the skies;And all night long he lay beneath one star,Hearing of God.... One that was choristerAt Earth’s first morning; that beheld fierce eyesOf rebel angels, and the birth of Hell;Whom God set over Eden and o’er them,The Two, as destiny; that did foretellHow Christ lay born at far-off Bethlehem.
They took him into confidence—each oakOf the far forest: and all day he satHearing of Nature from an autocrat,An oak—so old, Dodona might have spokeIts infant oracles through it; that, partOf the oracular beauty of the gods,Yet irresponsible, down in its heartStill felt the rapture of their periods.
They took him into confidence—the skies;And all night long he lay beneath one star,Hearing of God.... One that was choristerAt Earth’s first morning; that beheld fierce eyesOf rebel angels, and the birth of Hell;Whom God set over Eden and o’er them,The Two, as destiny; that did foretellHow Christ lay born at far-off Bethlehem.
I heard the hylas in the bottomlandsPiping a reed-note in the praise of Spring:The South-wind brought the music on its wing,As ’t were a hundred strandsOf guttural gold smitten of elfin hands;Or of sonorous silver, struck by bands,Anviled within the earth,Of laboring gnomes shaping some gem of worth.Sounds that seemed to bidThe wildflowers wake;Unclose each dewy lid,And starrily shakeSleep from their airy eyesBeneath the loam,And, robed in dædal dyes,Frail as the fluttering foam,In countless myriads rise.And in my city homeI, too, who heardTheir reedy word,Awoke, and, with my soul, went forth to roam.
I heard the hylas in the bottomlandsPiping a reed-note in the praise of Spring:The South-wind brought the music on its wing,As ’t were a hundred strandsOf guttural gold smitten of elfin hands;Or of sonorous silver, struck by bands,Anviled within the earth,Of laboring gnomes shaping some gem of worth.Sounds that seemed to bidThe wildflowers wake;Unclose each dewy lid,And starrily shakeSleep from their airy eyesBeneath the loam,And, robed in dædal dyes,Frail as the fluttering foam,In countless myriads rise.And in my city homeI, too, who heardTheir reedy word,Awoke, and, with my soul, went forth to roam.
I heard the hylas in the bottomlandsPiping a reed-note in the praise of Spring:The South-wind brought the music on its wing,As ’t were a hundred strandsOf guttural gold smitten of elfin hands;Or of sonorous silver, struck by bands,Anviled within the earth,Of laboring gnomes shaping some gem of worth.Sounds that seemed to bidThe wildflowers wake;Unclose each dewy lid,And starrily shakeSleep from their airy eyesBeneath the loam,And, robed in dædal dyes,Frail as the fluttering foam,In countless myriads rise.And in my city homeI, too, who heardTheir reedy word,Awoke, and, with my soul, went forth to roam.
And under glimpses of the cloud-white skyMy soul and IBeheld her seated, Spring among the woodsWith bright attendants,Two radiant maidens,The Wind and Sun: one robed in cadence,And one in white resplendence,Working wild wonders with the solitudes.And thus it was,So it seemed to me,Where she sat apartFondling a bee,By some strange art,As in a glass,Down in her heartMy eyes could seeWhat would come to pass:—How in each tree,Each blade of grass,—Dead though it seemed,—Still lived and dreamedLife and perfume,Color and bloom,Housed from the NorthLike golden mirth,That she with jubilation would bring forth,Astonishing Earth.
And under glimpses of the cloud-white skyMy soul and IBeheld her seated, Spring among the woodsWith bright attendants,Two radiant maidens,The Wind and Sun: one robed in cadence,And one in white resplendence,Working wild wonders with the solitudes.And thus it was,So it seemed to me,Where she sat apartFondling a bee,By some strange art,As in a glass,Down in her heartMy eyes could seeWhat would come to pass:—How in each tree,Each blade of grass,—Dead though it seemed,—Still lived and dreamedLife and perfume,Color and bloom,Housed from the NorthLike golden mirth,That she with jubilation would bring forth,Astonishing Earth.
And under glimpses of the cloud-white skyMy soul and IBeheld her seated, Spring among the woodsWith bright attendants,Two radiant maidens,The Wind and Sun: one robed in cadence,And one in white resplendence,Working wild wonders with the solitudes.And thus it was,So it seemed to me,Where she sat apartFondling a bee,By some strange art,As in a glass,Down in her heartMy eyes could seeWhat would come to pass:—How in each tree,Each blade of grass,—Dead though it seemed,—Still lived and dreamedLife and perfume,Color and bloom,Housed from the NorthLike golden mirth,That she with jubilation would bring forth,Astonishing Earth.
And thus it was I knewThat though the trees were barren of all buds,And all the woodsOf blossoms now, still, still their hoodsAnd heads of blue and gold,And pink and pearl lay hidden in the mould;And in a day or two,When Spring’s fair feet came twinkling throughThe trees, their gold and blue,And pearl and pink in countless bands would rise,Invading all these waysWith loveliness; and to the skies,In radiant rapture raiseThe fragile sweetness of a thousand eyes.When every foot of soil would boastAn ambuscadeOf blossoms; each green rood paradeIts flowery host;And every acre of the woods,With little bird-like beaks of leaves and buds,Brag of its beauty; making bankrupts ofOur hearts of praise, and beggar us of love.
And thus it was I knewThat though the trees were barren of all buds,And all the woodsOf blossoms now, still, still their hoodsAnd heads of blue and gold,And pink and pearl lay hidden in the mould;And in a day or two,When Spring’s fair feet came twinkling throughThe trees, their gold and blue,And pearl and pink in countless bands would rise,Invading all these waysWith loveliness; and to the skies,In radiant rapture raiseThe fragile sweetness of a thousand eyes.When every foot of soil would boastAn ambuscadeOf blossoms; each green rood paradeIts flowery host;And every acre of the woods,With little bird-like beaks of leaves and buds,Brag of its beauty; making bankrupts ofOur hearts of praise, and beggar us of love.
And thus it was I knewThat though the trees were barren of all buds,And all the woodsOf blossoms now, still, still their hoodsAnd heads of blue and gold,And pink and pearl lay hidden in the mould;And in a day or two,When Spring’s fair feet came twinkling throughThe trees, their gold and blue,And pearl and pink in countless bands would rise,Invading all these waysWith loveliness; and to the skies,In radiant rapture raiseThe fragile sweetness of a thousand eyes.When every foot of soil would boastAn ambuscadeOf blossoms; each green rood paradeIts flowery host;And every acre of the woods,With little bird-like beaks of leaves and buds,Brag of its beauty; making bankrupts ofOur hearts of praise, and beggar us of love.
Here, when the snow was flying,And barren boughs were sighing,In icy January,I stood, like some gray tree, lonely and solitary.Now every spine and splinterOf wood, washed clean of winter,By hill and canyonMakes of itself an intimate companion,A confidant, who whispers me the dreamsThat haunt its heart, and clothe it as with gleams.And lonely now no moreI walk the mossy floorOf woodlands where each bourgeoning leaf is matched,Mated with music; triumphed o’erOf building love and nestling song just hatched.
Here, when the snow was flying,And barren boughs were sighing,In icy January,I stood, like some gray tree, lonely and solitary.Now every spine and splinterOf wood, washed clean of winter,By hill and canyonMakes of itself an intimate companion,A confidant, who whispers me the dreamsThat haunt its heart, and clothe it as with gleams.And lonely now no moreI walk the mossy floorOf woodlands where each bourgeoning leaf is matched,Mated with music; triumphed o’erOf building love and nestling song just hatched.
Here, when the snow was flying,And barren boughs were sighing,In icy January,I stood, like some gray tree, lonely and solitary.Now every spine and splinterOf wood, washed clean of winter,By hill and canyonMakes of itself an intimate companion,A confidant, who whispers me the dreamsThat haunt its heart, and clothe it as with gleams.And lonely now no moreI walk the mossy floorOf woodlands where each bourgeoning leaf is matched,Mated with music; triumphed o’erOf building love and nestling song just hatched.
Washed of the early rains,And rosed with ruddy stains,The boughs and branches now make ready forTheir raiment green of leaves and musk and myrrh.—As if to greet her pomp,The heralds of her state,As ’t were with many a silvery trump,The birds are singing, singing,And all the world’s elate,As o’er the hills, as ’twere from Heaven’s gate,With garments, dewy-clinging,Comes Spring, around whose way the budded woods are ringingWith redbird and with bluebird and with thrush;While, overhead, on happy wings is swingingThe swallow through the heaven’s azure hush:And wren and sparrow, vireo and crowAre busy with their nests, or high or low,In every tree, it seems, and every bush.The loamy odor of the turfy heat,Breathed warm from every field and wood-retreat,Is as if spirits passed on flowery feet:—That indescribableAroma of the woods one knows so well,Reminding one of sylvan presences,Clad on with lichen and with moss,That haunt and trail acrossThe woods’ dim dales and dells; their airy essencesOf racy nard and muskRapping at gummy huskAnd honeyed sheath of every leaf and flowerThat open to their knock, each at the appointed hour:—And, lo!Where’er they go,Behold a miracleToo beautiful to tell!—Where late the woods were bareThe red-bud shakes its hairOf flowering flame; the dogwood and the hawVoluble with bees dazzle with pearl the shaw;And the broad maple crimsons, sunset-red,Through firmaments of forest overhead:And of its boughs the wild-crab makes a lair,A rosy cloud of blossoms, for the bees,Bewildered there,To traffic in; lulling itself with these.And in the whispering woodsThe wild-flower multitudesRise, star, and bell, and bugle, all amortTo everything save their own lovelinessAnd the soft wind’s caress,—The wind that tip-toes through them:—liverwort,Spring-beauty, windflower and the bleeding-heart,And bloodroot, holding lowIts cups of stainless snow;Sorrel and trillium and the twin-leaf, too,Twinkling, like stars, through dew:And patches, as it were, of saffron skies,Ranunculus; and golden eyesOf adder’s-tongue; and mines,It seems, of grottoed gold, the poppy-celandines;And, sapphire-spilled,Bluets and violets,Dark pansy-violets and columbines,With rainy radiance filled;And many more whose names my mind forgets,But not my heart:The Nations of the Flowers, making gayIn every place and part,With pomp and pageantryOf absolute Beauty, all the worlds of woods,In congregated multitudes,Assembled whereUnearthly colors all the oaks put on,Velvet and silk and vair,Vermeil and mauve and fawn,Dim and auroral as the hues of dawn.
Washed of the early rains,And rosed with ruddy stains,The boughs and branches now make ready forTheir raiment green of leaves and musk and myrrh.—As if to greet her pomp,The heralds of her state,As ’t were with many a silvery trump,The birds are singing, singing,And all the world’s elate,As o’er the hills, as ’twere from Heaven’s gate,With garments, dewy-clinging,Comes Spring, around whose way the budded woods are ringingWith redbird and with bluebird and with thrush;While, overhead, on happy wings is swingingThe swallow through the heaven’s azure hush:And wren and sparrow, vireo and crowAre busy with their nests, or high or low,In every tree, it seems, and every bush.The loamy odor of the turfy heat,Breathed warm from every field and wood-retreat,Is as if spirits passed on flowery feet:—That indescribableAroma of the woods one knows so well,Reminding one of sylvan presences,Clad on with lichen and with moss,That haunt and trail acrossThe woods’ dim dales and dells; their airy essencesOf racy nard and muskRapping at gummy huskAnd honeyed sheath of every leaf and flowerThat open to their knock, each at the appointed hour:—And, lo!Where’er they go,Behold a miracleToo beautiful to tell!—Where late the woods were bareThe red-bud shakes its hairOf flowering flame; the dogwood and the hawVoluble with bees dazzle with pearl the shaw;And the broad maple crimsons, sunset-red,Through firmaments of forest overhead:And of its boughs the wild-crab makes a lair,A rosy cloud of blossoms, for the bees,Bewildered there,To traffic in; lulling itself with these.And in the whispering woodsThe wild-flower multitudesRise, star, and bell, and bugle, all amortTo everything save their own lovelinessAnd the soft wind’s caress,—The wind that tip-toes through them:—liverwort,Spring-beauty, windflower and the bleeding-heart,And bloodroot, holding lowIts cups of stainless snow;Sorrel and trillium and the twin-leaf, too,Twinkling, like stars, through dew:And patches, as it were, of saffron skies,Ranunculus; and golden eyesOf adder’s-tongue; and mines,It seems, of grottoed gold, the poppy-celandines;And, sapphire-spilled,Bluets and violets,Dark pansy-violets and columbines,With rainy radiance filled;And many more whose names my mind forgets,But not my heart:The Nations of the Flowers, making gayIn every place and part,With pomp and pageantryOf absolute Beauty, all the worlds of woods,In congregated multitudes,Assembled whereUnearthly colors all the oaks put on,Velvet and silk and vair,Vermeil and mauve and fawn,Dim and auroral as the hues of dawn.
Washed of the early rains,And rosed with ruddy stains,The boughs and branches now make ready forTheir raiment green of leaves and musk and myrrh.—As if to greet her pomp,The heralds of her state,As ’t were with many a silvery trump,The birds are singing, singing,And all the world’s elate,As o’er the hills, as ’twere from Heaven’s gate,With garments, dewy-clinging,Comes Spring, around whose way the budded woods are ringingWith redbird and with bluebird and with thrush;While, overhead, on happy wings is swingingThe swallow through the heaven’s azure hush:And wren and sparrow, vireo and crowAre busy with their nests, or high or low,In every tree, it seems, and every bush.The loamy odor of the turfy heat,Breathed warm from every field and wood-retreat,Is as if spirits passed on flowery feet:—That indescribableAroma of the woods one knows so well,Reminding one of sylvan presences,Clad on with lichen and with moss,That haunt and trail acrossThe woods’ dim dales and dells; their airy essencesOf racy nard and muskRapping at gummy huskAnd honeyed sheath of every leaf and flowerThat open to their knock, each at the appointed hour:—And, lo!Where’er they go,Behold a miracleToo beautiful to tell!—Where late the woods were bareThe red-bud shakes its hairOf flowering flame; the dogwood and the hawVoluble with bees dazzle with pearl the shaw;And the broad maple crimsons, sunset-red,Through firmaments of forest overhead:And of its boughs the wild-crab makes a lair,A rosy cloud of blossoms, for the bees,Bewildered there,To traffic in; lulling itself with these.And in the whispering woodsThe wild-flower multitudesRise, star, and bell, and bugle, all amortTo everything save their own lovelinessAnd the soft wind’s caress,—The wind that tip-toes through them:—liverwort,Spring-beauty, windflower and the bleeding-heart,And bloodroot, holding lowIts cups of stainless snow;Sorrel and trillium and the twin-leaf, too,Twinkling, like stars, through dew:And patches, as it were, of saffron skies,Ranunculus; and golden eyesOf adder’s-tongue; and mines,It seems, of grottoed gold, the poppy-celandines;And, sapphire-spilled,Bluets and violets,Dark pansy-violets and columbines,With rainy radiance filled;And many more whose names my mind forgets,But not my heart:The Nations of the Flowers, making gayIn every place and part,With pomp and pageantryOf absolute Beauty, all the worlds of woods,In congregated multitudes,Assembled whereUnearthly colors all the oaks put on,Velvet and silk and vair,Vermeil and mauve and fawn,Dim and auroral as the hues of dawn.
A March Voluntary