TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. Through all the long, drear night of years And earth is wet with blood and tears, But our meek suffering endeth! The few shall not forever sway, The many toil in sorrow: The Powers of hell are strong to-day, Though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes For lo! our day bursts up the skies Lean out our souls and listen! The world rolls Freedom's radiant way, Keep heart! who bear the cross to-day O, Youth, flame-earnest, still aspire Our yearning opes a portal! And though Age wearies by the way, Build up heroic lives, and all Be like the sheathen saber, Ready to flash out at God's call— Triumph and Toil are twins-and aye Joy suns the cloud of sorrow; And 't is the martyrdom to-day GERALD MASSEY. 225 D The Present. O not crouch to-day, and worship The old Past whose life is fled: Hush your voice with tender reverence; Crowned he lies, but cold and dead: For the Present reigns our monarch, With an added weight of hours: Honor her, for she is mighty! Honor her, for she is ours! See, the shadows of his heroes But the Present shall fulfill them, What he promised, she shall do. She inherits all his treasures, Bids us cast our lives before her, ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. IS IT COME? 227 Is it Come? Is it come? they said, on the banks of the Nile, Who looked for the world's long-promised day, And saw but the strife of Egypt's toil With the desert's sand and the granite gray. Yet there was hope when that day began. The Chaldee came with his starry lore, And built up Babylon's crown and creed; And bricks were stamped on the Tigris' shore With signs which our sages scarce can read. From Ninus' temple and Nimrod's tower, The rule of the old East's empire spread Unreasoning faith and unquestioned powerBut still, Is it come? the watcher said. The light of the Persian's worshiped flame When Greece to her freedom's trust was true: With human gods, and with god-like men, No marvel the far-off day seemed near The Romans conquered and reveled too, Till honor, and faith, and power were gone; As, wave after wave, the Goth came on. Poet and seer that question caught, Above the din of life's fears and frets; It marched with letters, it toiled with thought, Yet hearts to that golden promise cleave, The days of the nations bear no trace FRANCES BROWN. A Song for the New Year (1867). HE sea sings the song of the ages; THE The mountain stands mutely sublime; While the blank of Eternity's pages Is filled by the fingers of Time. But Man robbeth sea of its wonder, Making syllabled speech of its roar; He rendeth the mountain asunder, And rolleth his wheels through its core ; He scanneth the heavens at pleasure, But purpose is weaker than passion, A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR. He pursueth the phantom of beauty, Or peddleth his valor for pelf; Till the iron of merciless duty Has crashed through the armor of self. He wasteth the half of his soul;- So the march of triumphal procession, Yet a year does not slide o'er the border If the blood that was weaker than water EDWIN R. JOHNSON. 229 |