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OTHER VERSE |
105 |
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Behind the field a carping gang, In right's pretense, a lurking foe, Stood in the light of battle's glow,
And snarling, gnashed their fang to fang; Why ? give us, God, to know.
Ah, thus Thou movest, on the storm, Thine awful wonders to perform;
And, humbly, we accept Thy way, When, even now, the marplot's blow, Would lay Columbia stunned and low.
That he, abashed, shall rue the day, O, give us, God, to know. |
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" MISTLETOE."
The poet-soul can see you, dear, Lost in the maze of one short year,
Twining the mistletoe there. Pensive and still, hopeful and true, While memory sweetly sings to you,
Soft and low as a vesper prayer.
And one away on life's strong sea, Where manhood's ship rides high and free,
Peers out across the surging tide, And hears the same sweet song, my dear, That comes to you adown the year—
Looks out to you, his star and guide. |
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