Read Ebook: Dreams and Days: Poems by Lathrop George Parsons

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 469 lines and 31820 words, and 10 pages

MARTHY VIRGINIA'S HAND

GETTYSBURG: A BATTLE ODE

NOTES

STRIKE HANDS, YOUNG MEN!

Strike hands, young men! We know not when Death or disaster comes, Mightier than battle-drums To summon us away. Death bids us say farewell To all we love, nor stay For tears;--and who can tell How soon misfortune's hand May smite us where we stand, Dragging us down, aloof, Under the swift world's hoof?

Strike hands for faith, and power To gladden the passing hour; To wield the sword, or raise a song;-- To press the grape; or crush out wrong. And strengthen right. Give me the man of sturdy palm And vigorous brain; Hearty, companionable, sane, 'Mid all commotions calm, Yet filled with quick, enthusiastic fire;-- Give me the man Whose impulses aspire, And all his features seem to say, "I can!"

Strike hands, young men! 'Tis yours to help rebuild the State, And keep the Nation great. With act and speech and pen 'Tis yours to spread The morning-red That ushers in a grander day: To scatter prejudice that blinds, And hail fresh thoughts in noble minds; To overthrow bland tyrannies That cheat the people, and with slow disease Change the Republic to a mockery. Your words can teach that liberty Means more than just to cry "We're free" While bending to some new-found yoke. So shall each unjust bond be broke, Each toiler gain his meet reward, And life sound forth a truer chord.

Ah, if we so have striven, And mutually the grasp have given Of brotherhood, To work each other and the whole race good; What matter if the dream Come only partly true, And all the things accomplished seem Feeble and few? At least, when summer's flame burns low And on our heads the drifting snow Settles and stays, We shall rejoice that in our earlier days We boldly then Struck hands, young men!

"O JAY!"

O jay-- Blue-jay! What are you trying to say? I remember, in the spring You pretended you could sing; But your voice is now still queerer, And as yet you've come no nearer To a song. In fact, to sum the matter, I never heard a flatter Failure than your doleful clatter. Don't you think it's wrong? It was sweet to hear your note, I'll not deny, When April set pale clouds afloat O'er the blue tides of sky, And 'mid the wind's triumphant drums You, in your white and azure coat, A herald proud, came forth to cry, "The royal summer comes!"

Sometimes your piping is delicious, And then again it's simply vicious; Though on the whole the varying jangle Weaves round me an entrancing tangle Of memories grave or joyous: Things to weep or laugh at; Love that lived at a hint, or Days so sweet, they'd cloy us; Nights I have spent with friends;-- Glistening groves of winter, And the sound of vanished feet That walked by the ripening wheat; With other things.... Not the half that Your cry familiar blends Can I name, for it is mostly Very ghostly;-- Such mixed-up things your voice recalls, With its peculiar quirks and falls.

Possibly, then, your meaning, plain, Is that your harsh and broken strain Tallies best with a world of pain.

Well, I'll admit There's merit in a voice that's truthful: Yours is not honey-sweet nor youthful, But querulously fit. And if we cannot sing, we'll say Something to the purpose, jay!

THE STAR TO ITS LIGHT

"Go," said the star to its light: "Follow your fathomless flight! Into the dreams of space Carry the joy of my face. Go," said the star to its light: "Tell me the tale of your flight."

As the mandate rang The heavens through, Quick the ray sprang: Unheard it flew, Sped by the touch of an unseen spur. It crumbled the dusk of the deep That folds the worlds in sleep, And shot through night with noiseless stir.

Then came the day; And all that swift array Of diamond-sparkles died. And lo! the far star cried: "My light has lost its way!" Ages on ages passed: The light returned, at last.

"What have you seen, What have you heard-- O ray serene, O flame-winged bird I loosed on endless air? Why do you look so faint and white?"-- Said the star to its light.

"O star," said the tremulous ray, "Grief and struggle I found. Horror impeded my way. Many a star and sun I passed and touched, on my round. Many a life undone I lit with a tender gleam: I shone in the lover's eyes, And soothed the maiden's dream. But alas for the stifling mist of lies! Alas, for the wrath of the battle-field Where my glance was mixed with blood! And woe for the hearts by hate congealed, And the crime that rolls like a flood! Too vast is the world for me; Too vast for the sparkling dew Of a force like yours to renew. Hopeless the world's immensity! The suns go on without end: The universe holds no friend: And so I come back to you."

"Go," said the star to its light: "You have not told me aright. This you have taught: I am one In a million of million others-- Stars, or planets, or men;-- And all of these are my brothers. Carry that message, and then My guerdon of praise you have won! Say that I serve in my place: Say I will hide my own face Ere the sorrows of others I shun. So, then, my trust you'll requite. Go!"--said the star to its light.

"THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES"

The sunshine of thine eyes, Whatever it touches it fills With the life of its lambent gleam.

The sunshine of thine eyes, O let it fall on me! Though I be but a mote of the air, I could turn to gold for thee!

JESSAMINE

THE BOBOLINK

How sweetly sang the bobolink, When thou, my love, wast nigh! His liquid music from the brink Of some cloud-fountain seemed to sink, Far in the blue-domed sky.

How sadly sings the bobolink! No more my love is nigh: Yet rise, my spirit, rise, and drink Once more from that cloud-fountain's brink,-- Once more before I die!

SAILOR'S SONG, RETURNING

The sea goes up; the sky comes down. Oh, can you spy the ancient town,-- The granite hills so green and gray, That rib the land behind the bay? O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings! Fair winds, boys: send her home! O ye ho!

Three years? Is it so long that we Have lived upon the lonely sea? Oh, often I thought we'd see the town, When the sea went up, and the sky came down. O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

Even the winter winds would rouse A memory of my father's house; For round his windows and his door They made the same deep, mouthless roar. O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

And when the summer's breezes beat, Methought I saw the sunny street Where stood my Kate. Beneath her hand She gazed far out, far out from land. O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

Farthest away, I oftenest dreamed That I was with her. Then it seemed A single stride the ocean wide Had bridged, and brought me to her side. O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

But though so near we're drawing, now, 'T is farther off--I know not how. We sail and sail: we see no home. Would that we into port were come! O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

At night, the same stars o'er the mast: The mast sways round--however fast We fly--still sways and swings around One scanty circle's starry bound. O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

Ah, many a month those stars have shone, And many a golden morn has flown, Since that so solemn, happy morn, When, I away, my babe was born. O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

And, though so near we're drawing, now, 'T is farther off--I know not how:-- I would not aught amiss had come To babe or mother there, at home! O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

'T is but a seeming: swiftly rush The seas, beneath. I hear the crush Of foamy ridges 'gainst the prow. Longing outspeeds the breeze, I know. O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

Patience, my mates! Though not this eve We cast our anchor, yet believe, If but the wind holds, short the run: We'll sail in with to-morrow's sun. O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings! Fair winds, boys: send her home! O ye ho!

FIRST GLANCE

A budding mouth and warm blue eyes; A laughing face; and laughing hair,-- So ruddy was its rise From off that forehead fair;

Frank fervor in whate'er she said, And a shy grace when she was still; A bright, elastic tread; Enthusiastic will;

These wrought the magic of a maid As sweet and sad as the sun in spring;-- Joyous, yet half-afraid Her joyousness to sing.

BRIDE BROOK

Wide as the sky Time spreads his hand, And blindly over us there blows A swarm of years that fill the land, Then fade, and are as fallen snows.

Behold, the flakes rush thick and fast; Or are they years, that come between,-- When, peering back into the past, I search the legendary scene?

Nay. Marshaled down the open coast, Fearless of that low rampart's frown, The winter's white-winged, footless host Beleaguers ancient Saybrook town.

And when the settlers wake they stare On woods half-buried, white and green, A smothered world, an empty air: Never had such deep drifts been seen!

But "Snow lies light upon my heart! An thou," said merry Jonathan Rudd, "Wilt wed me, winter shall depart, And love like spring for us shall bud."

"Nay, how," said Mary, "may that be? No minister nor magistrate Is here, to join us solemnly; And snow-banks bar us, every gate."

"Winthrop at Pequot Harbor lies," He laughed. And with the morrow's sun He faced the deputy's dark eyes: "How soon, sir, may the rite be done?"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet