If I let fall a word of bitter mirth When public shames more shameful pardon won, With growing knowledge and more chaste than snow. THREE MEMORIAL POEMS. ΤΟ E. L. GODKIN, IN CORDIAL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS EMINENT SERVICE OF OUR POLITICAL THOUGHT, This Volume IS DEDICATED. Readers, it is hoped, will remember that, by his Ode at the Harvard Commemoration, the author had precluded himself from many of the natural outlets of thought and feeling common to such occasions as are celebrated in this little volunie. ODE READ AT THE ONE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FIGHT AT CONCORD BRIDGE. 19TH APRIL, 1875. I. WHO Cometh over the hills, The daughters of Time and Thought! II. She cometh, cometh to-day: III. Tell me, young men, have ye seen, Creature of diviner mien For true hearts to long and cry for, Manly hearts to live and die for? Tell me, maidens, have ye known star, Our hope, our joy, and our trust, Who lifted us out of the dust, And made us whatever we are! IV. Whiter than moonshine upon snów Through life and death and man's unstable moods; They met her here, not recognized, She taught them to endue The past with other functions than it knew, And turn in channels strange the uncertain stream of Fate; Better than all, she fenced them in their need With iron-handed Duty's sternest creed, 'Gainst Self's lean wolf that ravens word and deed. VI. Why cometh she hither to-day Why cometh she? She was not far away. Since the soul touched it, not in vain, With pathos of immortal gain, 'T is here her fondest memories stay. She loves yon pine bemurmured ridge Where now our broad-browed poet sleeps, Dear to both Englands; near him he Who wore the ring of Canace; But most her heart to rapture leaps Where stood that era-parting bridge, O'er which, with footfall still as dew, The Old Time passed into the New; Where, as your stealthy river creeps, He whispers to his listening weeds Tales of sublimest homespun deeds. Here English law and English thought 'Gainst the self-will of England fought; And here were men (coequal with their fate), Who did great things, unconscious they were great. They dreamed not what a die was cast With that first answering shot; what then? There was their duty; they were men Schooled the soul's inward gospel to obey, Though leading to the lion's den. way Beneath their lives, and on went they, When Buttrick gave the word, Strong in their love, and in their lineage strong, Fell crashing: if they heard it not, Nor ever hath forgot, As on from startled throne to throne, Where Superstition sate or conscious Wrong, A shudder ran of some dread birth unknown. Thrice venerable spot! River more fateful than the Rubicon ! O'er those red planks, to snatch her diadem, Man's Hope, star-girdled, sprang with them, And over ways untried the feet of Doom strode on. In fields their boyish feet had known? In trees their fathers' hands had set, And which with them had grown, Widening each year their leafy coronet? Felt they no pang of passionate regret For those unsolid goods that seem so much our own? These things are dear to every man that lives, And life prized more for what it lends than gives. Yea, many a tie, by iteration sweet, IX. Maiden half mortal, half divine, We triumphed in thy coming; to the brinks Our hearts were filled with pride's tumultuous wine; Better to-day who rather feels than thinks Yet will some graver thoughts intrude, And cares of sterner mood; They won thee: who shall keep thee? From the deeps Where discrowned empires o'er their ruins brood, And many a thwarted hope wrings its weak hands and weeps, I hear the voice as of a mighty wind From all heaven's caverns rushing unconfined, "I, Freedom, dwell with Knowledge: I abide With men whom dust of faction cannot blind To the slow tracings of the Eternal Mind; With men by culture trained and for With the new coming of spring! UNDER THE OLD ELM. POEM READ AT CAMBRIDGE ON THE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF WASHINGTON'S TAKING COMMAND OF THE AMERICAN ARMY, 3D JULY, 1775. I. 1. WORDS pass as wind, but where great deeds were done A power abides transfused from sire to son: The boy feels deeper meanings thrill his ear, That tingling through his pulse life-long shall run, With sure impulsion to keep honor clear, When, pointing down, his father whispers, "Here, Here, where we stand, stood he, the purely Great, Whose soul no siren passion could unsphere, |