Mother's Dream and Other Poems. Gould Hannah Flagg

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      Rise in thy solemn grandeur, calm and slow,

      As well befits thy purpose and thy place:

      Great Speaker! rise, not suddenly, to show

      The earth forever sacred at thy base.

      Strong as the rocky frame-work of the globe,

      Proportioned fair, in altitude sublime,

      With freedom’s glory round thee as a robe,

      Rise gently – then defy the power of time.

      To future ages, from thy lofty site,

      Speak in thy mighty eloquence, and tell

      That where thou art, on Bunker’s hallowed height,

      Our Warren and his valiant brethren fell.

      Say, it was here the vital current flowed,

      Purpling the turf, amid the mortal strife

      For man’s great birthright, from the breasts, that glowed

      With love of country, more than love of life.

      Thou hast thy growth of blood, that, gushing warm

      From patriot bosoms, set their spirits free:

      All, who behold, shall venerate thy form,

      And bow before thy genius, Liberty.

      Here fell the hero and his brave compeers,

      Who fought and died to break a people’s chain:

      The place is sacred to Columbia’s tears.

      Poured o’er the victims for a nation slain.

      Yet from her starry brow a glory streams,

      Turning to gems those holy drops of grief,

      As after evening showers, the morn’s clear beams

      Show diamonds hung on grass, and flower and leaf.

      Upright and firm, as were the patriot souls,

      That from thy native spot arose to God,

      Stand thou and hold, long as our planet rolls,

      This last high place by Freedom’s martyrs trod.

      Let thy majestic shadow walk the ground,

      Calm as the sun, and constant as his light;

      And by the moon, amid the dews, be found

      The sentinel, who guards it through the night.

      And may the air around thee ever be

      To heaven-born Liberty as vital breath;

      But, like the breeze that sweeps the Upas tree,

      To Bondage and Oppression certain death!

      A beauteous prospect spreads for thy survey;

      City and dome, and spire look up to thee:

      The solemn forest and the mountains gray

      Stand distant to salute thy majesty.

      And ocean, in his numbers deep and strong,

      While the bright shore beneath thy ken he laves,

      Will sing to thee an everlasting song

      Of freedom, with his never-conquered waves.

      Rise then, and stand unshaken, till the skies

      Above thee are about to pass away;

      But, when the dead around thee are to rise,

      Melt in the burning splendors of the day!

      For then will He, “whose right it is to reign,”

      Who hath on earth a kingdom pure to save,

      Come with his angels, calling up the slain

      To freedom, and annihilate the grave.

      Alone I walked the ocean strand;

      A pearly shell was in my hand:

      I stooped, and wrote upon the sand

      My name – the year – the day.

      As onward from the spot I passed,

      One lingering look behind I cast:

      A wave came rolling high and fast,

      And washed my lines away.

      And so, methought, ’t will shortly be

      With every mark on earth from me;

      A wave of dark oblivion’s sea

      Will sweep across the place,

      Where I have trod the sandy shore

      Of time, and been to be no more,

      Of me – my day – the name I bore,

      To leave nor track, nor trace.

      And yet, with Him, who counts the sands,

      And holds the waters in his hands,

      I know a lasting record stands,

      Inscribed against my name,

      Of all, this mortal part has wrought;

      Of all, this thinking soul has thought;

      And from these fleeting moments caught

      For glory, or for shame.

      To grief the night-hours keeping,

      A mournful mother lay

      Upon her pillow, weeping —

      Her babe had passed away.

      When she had clasped her treasure

      A year and yet a day,

      Of time ’t was all its measure —

      ’T was gone, like morning’s ray!

      The jewel, Heaven had shown her,

      Of worth surpassing gold,

      Was lent her, by its Owner —

      ’T was never earth’s to hold.

      Then, fondly hovering o’er her,

      A bright young angel hung;

      And warm the love it bore her,

      And sweet the song it sung:

      “O mother, why this weeping?

      Let all thy sorrow cease:

      My infant form is sleeping,

      Where nought can break its peace.

      “And he, who once was blessing

      Such little children here,

      My spirit now possessing,

      Will hold me ever dear.

      “I never knew the dreading

      Of death’s all-conquering blow;

      My mortal raiment shedding,

      I rose above the foe.

      “Where sickness СКАЧАТЬ