Anthology of Massachusetts Poets | Page 7

bred as the child of Duty,
Sternest of them
all?
She it is and she alone
Who built on faith as her corner stone;

Of all the nations none but she
Knew that the truth shall make us free.

Daughter of Courage, mother of heros,
Freedom divine.
Light of
New England, Star of the Pilgrim,
Still shalt thou shine.
Yet even as
we in our pride rejoice,
Hark to the prophet's warning voice:
"The
Pilgrim's thrift is vanished
And the Pilgrim's faith is dead,
And the
Pilgrim's God is banished,
And Mammon reigns in his stead;
And
work is damned as an evil,
And men and women cry,
In their
restless haste, 'Let us spend and waste,
And live; for to-morrow we
die.'
"And law is trampled under;
And the nations stand aghast,
As they
hear the distant thunder
Of the storm that marches fast;
And
we,--whose ocean borders
Shut off the sound and the sight,
We will
wait for marching orders;
The world has seen us fight;
We have
earned our days of revel;
'On with the dance'! we cry.
It is pain to
think; we will eat and drink!
And live; for to-morrow we die."
"We have laughed in the eyes of danger;
We have given our bravest
and best;
We have succored the starving stranger;
Others shall heed
the rest.'
And the revel never ceases;
And the nations hold their
breath;
And our laughter peals, and the mad world reels,
To a
carnival of death.
"Slaves of sloth and the senses,
Clippers of Freedom's wings,
Come
back to the Pilgrim's Army
And fight for the King of Kings;
Come
back to the 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