Anthology of Massachusetts Poets | Page 7

Pilgrim's conscience;?Be born in the nation's birth;?And strive again as simple men?For the freedom of the earth.?Freedom a free-born nation still shall cherish,?Be this our covenant, unchanging, sure:?Earth shall decay; the firmament shall perish;?Freedom and Truth immortal shall endure."
Land of our fathers, when the tempest rages,?When the wide earth is racked with war and crime,?Founded forever on the Rock of Ages,?Beaten in vain by surging seas of time,
Even as the shallop on the breakers riding,?Even as the Pilgrim kneeling on the shore,?Firm in thy faith and fortitude abiding,?Hold thou thy children free forever more.
And when we sail as Pilgrims' sons and daughters?The spirit's Mayflower into seas unknown,?Driving across the waste of wintry waters?The voyage every soul shall make alone,
The Pilgrim's faith, the Pilgrim's courage grant us;?Still shines the truth that for the Pilgrim shone.?We are his seed; nor life nor death shall daunt us.?The port is Freedom! Pilgrim heart, sail on!
LE BARON RUSSELL BRIGGS
THE CROSS-CURRENT
THROUGH twelve stout generations?New England blood I boast;?The stubborn pastures bred them,?The grim, uncordial coast,
Sedate and proud old cities,--?Loved well enough by me,?Then how should I be yearning?To scour the earth and sea.
Each of my Yankee forbears?Wed a New England mate:?They dwelt and did and died here,?Nor glimpsed a rosier fate.
My clan endured their kindred;?But foreigners they loathed,?And wandering folk, and minstrels,?And gypsies motley-clothed.
Then why do patches please me,?Fantastic, wild array??Why have I vagrant fancies?For lads from far away.
My folk were godly Churchmen,--?Or paced in Elders' weeds;?But all were grave and pious?And hated heathen creeds.
Then why are Thor and Wotan?To dread forces still??Why does my heart go questing?For Pan beyond the hill?
My people clutched at freedom.--?Though others' wills they chained,--?But made the Law and kept it,--?And Beauty, they restrained.
Then why am I a rebel?To laws of rule and square??Why would I dream and dally,?Or, reckless, do and dare?
O righteous, solemn Grandsires,?O dames, correct and mild,?Who bred me of your virtues!?Whence comes this changing child?--
The thirteenth generation,--?Unlucky number this!--?My grandma loved a Pirate,?And all my faults are his!
A gallant, ruffled rover,?With beauty-loving eye,?He swept Colonial waters?Of coarser, bloodier fry.
He waved his hat to danger,?At Law he shook his fist.?Ah, merrily he plundered,?He sang and fought and kissed!
Though none have found his treasure,?And none his part would take,--?I bless that thirteenth lady?Who chose him for my sake!
ABBIE FARWELL BROWN
CANDLEMAS
O HEARKEN, all ye little weeds?That lie beneath the snow,?(So low, dear hearts, in poverty so low!)?The sun hath risen for royal deeds,?A valiant wind the vanguard leads;?Now quicken ye, lest unborn seeds?Before ye rise and blow.
O furry living things, adream?On winter's drowsy breast,?(How rest ye there, how softly, safely rest!)?Arise and follow where a gleam?Of wizard gold unbinds the stream,?And all the woodland windings seem?With sweet expectance blest.
My birds, come back! the hollow sky?Is weary for your note.?(Sweet-throat, come back! O liquid, mellow?throat!)?Ere May's soft minions hereward fly,?Shame on ye, Laggards, to deny?The brooding breast, the sun-bright eye,?The tawny, shining coat!
ALICE BROWN
SUNRISE ON MANSFIELD MOUNTAIN
O SWIFT forerunners, rosy with the race!?Spirits of dawn, divinely manifest?Behind your blushing banners in the sky,?Daring invaders of Night's tenting-ground,?How do ye strain on forward-bending foot,?Each to be first in heralding of joy!
With silence sandalled, so they weave their way,?And so they stand, with silence panoplied,?Chanting, through mystic symbollings of flame,?Their solemn invocation to the light.
O changeless guardians! 0 ye wizard first!?What strenuous philter feeds your potency.?That thus ye rest, in sweet wood-hardiness,?Ready to learn of all and utter naught??What breath may move ye, or what breeze invite?To odorous hot lendings of the heart??What wind-but all the winds are yet afar,?And e'en the little tricksy zephyr sprites,?That fleet before them, like their elfin locks,?Have lagged in sleep, nor stir nor waken yet?To pluck the robe of patient majesty.
Too still for dreaming, too divine for sleep,?So range the firs, the constant, fearless ones.?Warders of mountain secrets, there they wait,?Each with his cloak about him, breathless, calm.?And yet expectant, as who knows the dawn,
And all night thrills with memory and desire,?Searching in what has been for what shall be:
The marvel of the ne'er familiar day,?Sacred investiture of life renewed,?The chrism of dew, the coronal of flame.?Low in the valley lies the conquered rout?Of man's poor, trivial turmoil, lost and drowned?Under the mist, in gleaming rivers rolled,?Where oozy marsh contends with frothing main.?And rounding all, springs one full, ambient arch,?One great good limpid world--so still, so still!?For no sound echoes from its crystal curve?Save four clear notes, the song of that lone bird?Who, brave but trembling, tries his morning hymn,?And has no heart to finish, for the awe?And wonder of this pearling globe of dawn.
Light, light eternal! veiling-place of stars!?Light, the revealer of dread beauty's face!?Weaving whereof the hills are lambent clad!?Mighty libation to the Unknown God!?Cup whereat pine-trees slake their giant thirst?And little leaves drink sweet delirium!?Being and breath and potion! living soul?And all-informing heart of