birth—and yet
Observing thee his knowledge is not less;
He knows each cycle, each return to be
A moment in that vast eternity.

Recording-comet of th' immortal space,
What history thy eye hath look'd upon
Since first thy airy, circling course was run!
What fallen pride! What scatterings of race!
Jerusalem and Nineveh and Rome
Didst thou behold from thy almighty dome—

Didst thou behold—their birth, their rise, their fall—
Low humbled by the under hordes at last,
With glory and fair triumphs in the past,
And footprints of destruction over all.
While thou, fleet comet, with a light divine
Continueth upon the earth to shine.

Speed on! swift comet—turn, wanderer, turn!
And with thy flaming, god-like pen of light
On heaven's scroll with burning letters write:
Live but to love, O earth!—to love and learn,
For while a comet's mighty cycles fail,
Love,—love and truth forever shall prevail.

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Washington

t is forever so—when there is need
Of some clear, clarion voice to forward lead
God raiseth up a man from his own seed;
Not from the soft, luxurious lap of earth,
But from a nobler soil, so that from birth
The frame is moulded with a chosen food
That has one only end—to make it good,
Full generous, far-sighted, firm and keen,
With strength to rise above the gross and mean—
The sordid selfishness that like a curse
Drives from the heart the virtues it would nurse—
That love of country, freedom's holy cause,
Justice, mercy, that eye for equal laws,
Faith in the future and our fellow-men,
Faith in the sword when shielded by the pen—
And so it was with us—when there was need
Of one commanding voice to forward lead,
God rais'd up here a man from His own seed;
And so came forth the gentle Washington,
Fair child of Fate, the nation's noblest son,
Whom Virtue fostered and whom Virtue won.

Some few there be whose feet knew rougher ground,
But few indeed a loftier summit found—
Nurtured in tender soil, he held a path
Where others faltered, heeding not the wrath
Of any king or potentate or power—
His was the hero-heart—he saw the hour,—
He knew the mighty odds, yet would not cower.
And when the tyrant's heel touch'd on our shore
And thrust itself unbidden to our door,—
But Washington alone with eagle-eye
Withstood the foe and taught him how to die;
Repulsed, disheartened, driven to despair,
He lifted up his voice in humble prayer,
For in that awful night at Valley Forge
He drank the bitter cup—he knew Fate's scourge,
He felt her lash,—this tender-hearted George.

Father of Liberty—thou Child of Light,
Columbia's first-born, who in thy might
Restored to Freedom her enfeebled sight—
If spirits of the nobler dead can hear,
This day—thy natal day—press close thine ear
And learn what we thy nation need to fear,
And if the immortal dead can truly speak,
Show us, O Child of Light, where we are weak,—
Grant us thy counsel (for thou art with God)
And bear us wisdom where thy footsteps trod,
And if thou seest aught of envious strife
From virtue sapping all her sweeter life,
Teach us, O Child of Light, a purer love,
For thou hast learn'd of God—thou art above
Thy weak and erring mortals here below
Who see the light, yet forward fear to go—
Guide us, if spirits of the dead may guide,
So that in peace we ever may abide,
So that from land to sea, from shore to shore,
We shall be brothers now and evermore.

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The Storm

ll day long the sky was cloudless,
Life was waiting for a breath,
And the heat was more oppressive
Than the fear of sudden death;
All day long the sun was shining
In a hot and windless sky,
And the trees were weak for water—
Earth and air were dead and dry.

But e'er Night her wings had folded
Came a welcome western breeze,
Moving idly through the forest,
Prophesying to the trees,
Till above that dim horizon
Giant clouds like warring foes
Marshalled far in battle numbers
As the wild winds wilder rose.

Hark! O hear the double rumble
As the thunder shakes the air,
Like a thousand hoofs advancing
In yon cloudy corral there!—
Look!—how red the lightning flashes!
How the echoes roll and roll—
Dirges from some demon goddess—
How the bells of heaven toll!

Like a lance, a flash of lightning
Cuts the foremost cloud in twain
And the thunder's mighty echo
Rolls athwart the drenching rain
Till the landscape fades like shadows
In the driving sheets of spray,
And the wind wails through the forest,
And the great trees rock and sway.

Soon the air is strangely solemn
And the winds no longer blow
To the thunder's distant drumming
In the valley far below;
And along the low horizon
All the clouds are growing dim,
While upon the western hilltops
Rolls again the sun's red rim.

And away across the valley
In the heavens arching high,
Like a bed for fairy flowers
Swings the rainbow in the sky—
Swings until the shadows gather
And the sun sinks out of sight,
Seemingly to whisper softly
To the world a fond good night.

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