Dreams and Days

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Lathrop #4 in our series by George Parsons Lathrop
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Title: Dreams and Days: Poems
Author: George Parsons Lathrop
Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7325]
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[This file was first posted on April 14,
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Edition: 10
Language: English
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0. START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DREAMS
AND DAYS: POEMS ***
Produced by David Garcia, Eric Eldred, Juliet Sutherland,
Charles
Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreaders Team.
DREAMS AND DAYS
POEMS
BY
GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP
To ROSL
CONTENTS
I
STRIKE HANDS, YOUNG MEN!
"O JAY!"
THE STAR TO ITS LIGHT
"THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES"
JESSAMINE
THE BOBOLINK
SAILOR'S SONG, RETURNING
FIRST GLANCE
BRIDE BROOK
MAY-ROSE

THE SINGING WIRE
THE HEART OF A SONG
SOUTH-WIND
THE LOVER'S YEAR
NEW WORLDS
NIGHT IN NEW YORK
THE SONG-SPARROW
I LOVED YOU, ONCE----
II
THE BRIDE OF WAR
A RUNE OF THE RAIN
BREAKERS
BLACKMOUTH, OF COLORADO
THE CHILD-YEAR
CHRISTENING
THANKSGIVING TURKEY
BEFORE THE SNOW
III
YOUTH TO THE POET
THE SWORD DHAM

"AT THE GOLDEN GATE"
CHARITY
HELEN AT THE LOOM
THE CASKET OF OPALS
LOVE THAT LIVES
IV
BLUEBIRD'S GREETING
THE VOICE OF THE VOID
"O WHOLESOME DEATH"
INCANTATION
FAMINE AND HARVEST
THE CHILD'S WISH GRANTED
THE FLOWN SOUL
SUNSET AND SHORE
THE PHOEBE-BIRD
A STRONG CITY
THREE DOVES
V
ARISE, AMERICAN!
THE NAME OF WASHINGTON

GRANT'S DIRGE.
BATTLE DAYS
KEENAN'S CHARGE
MARTHY VIRGINIA'S HAND
GETTYSBURG: A BATTLE ODE
NOTES
STRIKE HANDS, YOUNG MEN!
Strike hands, young men!
We know not when
Death or disaster
comes,
Mightier than battle-drums
To summon us away.
Death
bids us say farewell
To all we love, nor stay
For tears;--and who
can tell
How soon misfortune's hand
May smite us where we stand,

Dragging us down, aloof,
Under the swift world's hoof?
Strike hands for faith, and power
To gladden the passing hour;
To
wield the sword, or raise a song;--
To press the grape; or crush out
wrong.
And strengthen right.
Give me the man of sturdy palm

And vigorous brain;
Hearty, companionable, sane,
'Mid all
commotions calm,
Yet filled with quick, enthusiastic fire;--
Give
me the man
Whose impulses aspire,
And all his features seem to
say, "I can!"
Strike hands, young men!
'Tis yours to help rebuild the State,
And
keep the Nation great.
With act and speech and pen
'Tis yours to
spread
The morning-red
That ushers in a grander day:
To scatter
prejudice that blinds,
And hail fresh thoughts in noble minds;
To
overthrow bland tyrannies
That cheat the people, and with slow
disease
Change the Republic to a mockery.
Your words can teach
that liberty

Means more than just to cry "We're free"
While bending
to some new-found yoke.
So shall each unjust bond be broke,
Each

toiler gain his meet reward,
And life sound forth a truer chord.
Ah, if we so have striven,
And mutually the grasp have given
Of
brotherhood,
To work each other and the whole race good;
What
matter if the dream
Come only partly true,
And all the things
accomplished seem
Feeble and few?
At least, when summer's flame
burns low
And on our heads the drifting snow
Settles and stays,

We shall rejoice that in our earlier days
We boldly then
Struck
hands, young men!
"O JAY!"
O jay--
Blue-jay!
What are you trying to say?
I remember, in the
spring
You pretended you could sing;
But your voice is now still
queerer,
And as yet you've come no nearer
To a song.
In fact, to
sum the matter,
I never heard a flatter
Failure than your doleful
clatter.
Don't you think it's wrong?
It was sweet to hear your note,

I'll not deny,
When April set pale clouds afloat
O'er the blue tides
of sky,
And 'mid the wind's triumphant drums
You, in your white
and azure coat,
A herald proud, came forth to cry,
"The royal
summer comes!"
But now that autumn's here,
And the leaves curl up in sheer
Disgust,

And the cold rains fringe the pine,
You really must
Stop that
supercilious whine---
Or you'll be shot, by some mephitic
Angry
critic.
You don't fulfill your early promise:

You're not the smartest
Kind
of artist,
Any more than poor Blind Tom is.
Yet somehow, still,

There's meaning in your screaming bill.
What are you trying to say?
Sometimes your piping is delicious,
And then again it's simply
vicious;
Though on the whole the varying jangle
Weaves round me
an entrancing