The White Bees | Page 6

and doth shake?The corners of the house,--and oh! my heart
would break?Unless both dreaming and awake?My hand could feel your hand was warm, warm,
warm!
SONGS FOR AMERICA
SEA-GULLS OF Manhattan
Children of the elemental mother,
Born upon some lonely island shore?Where the wrinkled ripples run and whisper,
Where the crested billows plunge and roar;?Long-winged, tireless roamers and adventurers,
Fearless breasters of the wind and sea,?In the far-off solitary places
I have seen you floating wild and free!
Here the high-built cities rise around you;
Here the cliffs that tower east and west,?Honeycombed with human habitations,
Have no hiding for the sea-bird's nest:?Here the river flows begrimed and troubled;
Here the hurrying, panting vessels fume,?Restless, up and down the watery highway,
While a thousand chimneys vomit gloom.
Toil and tumult, conflict and confusion,
Clank and clamor of the vast machine?Human hands have built for human bondage--
Yet amid it all you float serene;?Circling, soaring, sailing, swooping lightly
Down to glean your harvest from the wave;?In your heritage of air and water,
You have kept the freedom Nature gave.
Even so the wild-woods of Manhattan
Saw your wheeling flocks of white and grey;?Even so you fluttered, followed, floated,
Round the Half-Moon creeping up the bay;?Even so your voices creaked and chattered,
Laughing shrilly o'er the tidal rips,?While your black and beady eyes were glistening
Round the sullen British prison-ships.
Children of the elemental mother,
Fearless floaters 'mid the double blue,?From the crowded boats that cross the ferries
Many a longing heart goes out to you.?Though the cities climb and close around us,
Something tells us that our souls are free,?While the sea-gulls fly above the harbor,
While the river flows to meet the sea!
URBS CORONATA
(Song for the City College of New York)
O youngest of the giant brood?Of cities far-renowned;?In wealth and power thou hast passed?Thy rivals at a bound;?And now thou art a queen, New York;?And how wilt thou be crowned?
"Weave me no palace-wreath of pride,"?The royal city said;?"Nor forge an iron fortress-wall?To frown upon my head;?But let me wear a diadem?Of Wisdom's towers instead."
And so upon her island height?She worked her will forsooth,?She set upon her rocky brow?A citadel of Truth,?A house of Light, a home of Thought,?A shrine of noble Youth.
Stand here, ye City College towers,?And look both up and down;?Remember all who wrought for you?Within the toiling town;?Remember all they thought for you,?And all the hopes they brought for you,?And be the City's Crown.
AMERICA
I Love thine inland seas,
Thy groves of giant trees,?Thy rolling plains;?Thy rivers' mighty sweep,?Thy mystic canyons deep,?Thy mountains wild and steep,?All thy domains;
Thy silver Eastern strands,?Thy Golden Gate that stands?Wide to the West;?Thy flowery Southland fair,?Thy sweet and crystal air,--?O land beyond compare,?Thee I love best!
Additional verses for the National Hymn, March, 1906.
DOORS OF DARING
The mountains that enfold the vale?With walls of granite, steep and high,?Invite the fearless foot to scale?Their stairway toward the sky.
The restless, deep, dividing sea?That flows and foams from shore to shore,?Calls to its sunburned chivalry,?"Push out, set sail, explore!"?And all the bars at which we fret,?That seem to prison and control,?Are but the doors of daring, set?Ajar before the soul.
Say not, "Too poor," but freely give;?Sigh not, "Too weak," but boldly try.?You never can begin to live?Until you dare to die.
A HOME SONG
I Read within a poet's book?A word that starred the page:?"Stone walls do not a prison make,?Nor iron bars a cage!"
Yes, that is true; and something more?You'll find, where'er you roam,?That marble floors and gilded walls?Can never make a home.
But every house where Love abides,?And Friendship is a guest,?Is surely home, and home-sweet-home:?For there the heart can rest.
A NOON SONG
There are songs for the morning and songs
for the night,?For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon;?But who will give praise to the fulness of light,?And sing us a song of the glory of noon?
Oh, the high noon, and the clear noon,?The noon with golden crest;?When the sky burns, and the sun turns?With his face to the way of the west!
How swiftly he rose in the dawn of his strength;?How slowly he crept as the morning wore by;?Ah, steep was the climbing that led him at length?To the height of his throne in the blue summer
sky.?Oh, the long toil, and the slow toil,?The toil that may not rest,?Till the sun looks down from his journey's
crown,?To the wonderful way of the west!
AN AMERICAN IN EUROPE
'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up
and down?Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,?To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of
the kings,--?But now I think I've had enough of antiquated
things.
So it's home again, and home again, America for?me I?My heart is turning home again, and there I long to?be,?In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean?bars,?Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full?of stars.
Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in
the air;?And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in
her hair;?And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great
to study Rome;?But