Throb on, strong pulse of thunder! beat From answering beach to beach; Fuse nations in thy kindly heat, And melt the chains of each!
Wild terror of the sky above, Glide tamed and dumb below!
Bear gently, Ocean"s carrier-dove, Thy errands to and fro.
Weave on, swift shuttle of the Lord, Beneath the deep so far, The bridal robe of earth"s accord, The funeral shroud of war!
For lo! the fall of Ocean"s wall, s.p.a.ce mocked, and time outrun; And round the world the thought of all Is as the thought of one!
The poles unite, the zones agree, The tongues of striving cease; As on the sea of Galilee, The Christ is whispering, Peace!
From Snow-Bound.
=_374._= DESCRIPTION OF A SNOW STORM.
The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon, Slow tracing down the thickening sky Its mute and ominous prophecy, A portent seeming less than threat, It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout, Of homespun stuff could quite shut out, A hard, dull bitterness of cold, That checked, mid-vein, the circling race Of life-blood in the sharpened face, The coming of the snow-storm told.
The wind blew east: we heard the roar Of Ocean on his wintry sh.o.r.e, And felt the strong pulse throbbing there Beat with low rhythm our inland air.
Unwarmed by any sunset light The gray day darkened into night, A night made h.o.a.ry with the swarm And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, A zigzag wavering to and fro Crossed and recrossed the winged snow: And ere the early bed-time came The white drift piled the window-frame, And, through the gla.s.s, the clothes-line posts Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.
So all night long the storm rolled on: The morning broke without a sun; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature"s geometric signs, In starry flake and pellicle, All day the h.o.a.ry meteor fell; And, when the second morning shone, We looked upon a world unknown, On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent The blue walls of the firmament, No cloud above, no earth below,-- A universe of sky and snow!
From "The Pennsylvania Pilgrim."
=_375._= THE QUAKER"S CREED.
Gathered from many sects, the Quaker brought His old beliefs, adjusting to the thought That moved his soul, the creed his fathers taught.
One faith alone, so broad that all mankind Within themselves its secret witness find, The soul"s communion with the Eternal Mind,
The Spirit"s law, the Inward Rule and Guide, Scholar and peasant, lord and serf, allied, The polished Penn, and Cromwell"s Ironside.
As still in Hemskerck"s Quaker meeting, face By face, in Flemish detail, we may trace How loose-mouthed boor, and fine ancestral grace,
Sat in close contrast,--the clipt-headed churl, Broad market-dame, and simple serving-girl, By skirt of silk and periwig in curl!
For soul touched soul; the spiritual treasure-trove Made all men equal, none could rise above, Nor sink below, that level of G.o.d"s love.
So, with his rustic neighbors sitting down, The homespun frock beside the scholar"s gown, Pastorius, to the manners of the town
Added the freedom of the woods, and sought The bookless wisdom by experience taught, And learned to love his new-found home, while not
Forgetful of the old; the seasons went Their rounds, and somewhat to his spirit lent Of their own calm and measureless content.
Glad even to tears, he heard the robin sing His song of welcome to the Western spring, And bluebird borrowing from the sky his wing.
And when the miracle of autumn came, And all the woods with many-colored flame Of splendor, making summer"s greenness tame,
Burned unconsumed, a voice without a sound Spake to him from each kindled bush around And made the strange, new landscape holy ground.
=_Albert Pike, 1809-._= (Manual, p. 523.)
From "Lines on the Rocky Mountains."
=_376._= THE EVERLASTING HILLS.
The deep, transparent sky is full Of many thousand glittering lights-- Unnumbered stars that calmly rule The dark dominions of the night.
The mild, bright moon has upward risen, Out of the gray and boundless plain, And all around the white snows glisten, Where frost, and ice, and silence, reign,-- While ages roll away, and they unchanged remain.
These mountains, piercing the blue sky With their eternal cones of ice,-- The torrents dashing from on high, O"er rock, and crag, and precipice,-- Change not, but still remain as ever, Unwasting, deathless, and sublime, And will remain while lightnings quiver, Or stars the h.o.a.ry summits climb, Or rolls the thunder-chariot of eternal Time.
=_Anne C. Lynch Botta._=
From her "Poems."
=_377._= THE DUMB CREATION.
Deal kindly with those speechless ones, That throng our gladsome earth; Say not the bounteous gift of life Alone is nothing worth.
What though with mournful memories They sigh not for the past?
What though their ever joyous now No future overcast.
No aspirations fill their breast With longings undefined; They live, they love, and they are blest For what they seek they find.
They see no mystery in the stars, No wonder in the plain, And Life"s enigma wakes in them, No questions dark and vain.
To them earth is a final home, A bright and blest abode; Their lives unconsciously flow on In harmony with G.o.d.
To this fair world our human hearts Their hopes and longings bring, And o"er its beauty and its bloom, Their own dark shadows fling.
Between the future and the past In wild unrest we stand, And ever as our feet advance, Retreats the promised land.
And though Love, Fame, and Wealth, and Power Bind in their gilded bond, We pine to grasp the unattained-- The _something_ still beyond.