We thank thee that beyond the sea
The people, growing ever wise,
Turn to the west their serious
eyes
And dumbly strive to be as we.
As when the sun’s returning flame
Upon the Nileside statue shone,
And struck from the enchanted
stone
The music of a mighty fame,
Let Man salute the rising day
Of Liberty, but not adore.
’Tis Opportunity—no
more—
A useful, not a sacred, ray.
It bringeth good, it bringeth ill,
As he possessing shall elect.
He maketh it of none effect
Who walketh not within thy will.
Give thou or more or less, as we
Shall serve the right or serve
the wrong.
Confirm our freedom but so
long
As we are worthy to be free.
But when (O, distant be the time!)
Majorities in passion draw
Insurgent swords to murder
Law,
And all the land is red with crime;
Or—nearer menace!—when
the band
Of feeble spirits cringe and
plead
To the gigantic strength of
Greed,
And fawn upon his iron hand;—
Nay, when the steps to state are worn
In hollows by the feet of
thieves,
And Mammon sits among the
sheaves
And chuckles while the reapers mourn;
Then stay thy miracle!—replace
The broken throne, repair
the chain,
Restore the interrupted reign
And veil again thy patient face.
Lo! here upon the world’s extreme
We stand with lifted arms
and dare
By thine eternal name to swear
Our country, which so fair we deem—
Upon whose hills, a bannered throng,
The spirits of the sun display
Their flashing lances day
by day
And hear the sea’s pacific song—
Shall be so ruled in right and grace
That men shall say: “O,
drive afield
The lawless eagle from the
shield,
And call an angel to the place!”
RELIGION.
Hassan Bedreddin, clad in rags, ill-shod,
Sought the great temple of the living
God.
The worshippers arose and
drove him forth,
And one in power beat him with a rod.
“Allah,” he cried, “thou
seest what I got;
Thy servants bar me from the sacred spot.”
“Be comforted,”
the Holy One replied;
“It is the only place where I am
not.”
A MORNING FANCY.
I drifted (or I seemed to) in a boat
Upon the surface of a shoreless
sea
Whereon no ship nor anything did float,
Save only the frail bark supporting
me;
And that—it was
so shadowy—seemed to be
Almost from out the very vapors wrought
Of the great ocean underneath
its keel;
And all that blue profound appeared as
naught
But thicker sky, translucent
to reveal,
Miles down, whatever through its spaces
glided,
Or at the bottom traveled or abided.