ABRAHAM LINCOLN. Next morn, as the sun rose over the bay, Every waft of the air Was a whisper of prayer, Or a dirge for the dead. Ho! brave hearts that went down in the seas! Thy flag, that is rent in twain, Shall be one again, And without a seam! H. W. Longfellow. GOD, GIVE US PEACE! GOD, give us peace! not such as lulls to sleep, 95 But sword on thigh, and brow with purpose knit! And let our Ship of State to harbor sweep, Her ports all up, her battle-lanterns lit, And her leashed thunders gathering for their leap! ABRAHAM LINCOLN. J. R. Lowell. CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with ob ject won ; Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells! But I with mournful tread Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. Walt Whitman. VAUDOIS MOUNTAINEERS' HYMN. 97 HYMN OF THE VAUDOIS MOUNTAINEERS. OR the strength of the hills we bless Thee, FOR Our God, our fathers' God! Thou hast made thy children mighty By the touch of the mountain-sod; Where the spoiler's foot ne'er trod : We are watchers of a beacon For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, For the dark resounding caverns, 1; Where thy still small voice is heard For the strong pines of the forests, That by thy breath are stirred; For the storm, on whose free pinions For the strength of the hills,—we bless Thee, The royal eagle darteth On his quarry from the heights; And the stag, that knows no master, Seeks there his wild delights; But we, for thy communion, Have sought the mountain-sod : For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, The banner of the chieftain For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, For the shadow of thy presence Round our camp of rock outspread; For the stern defiles of battle, Bearing record of our dead; For the snows and for the torrents; For the strength of the hills,-we bless Thee, H A SEA GLIMPSE. Mrs. Hemans. IGH tide, and the year at ebb: The sea is a dream to-day : The sky is a gossamer web Of sapphire, and pearl, and gray : A veil over rock and boat; A breath on the tremulous blue, Where the dim sails lie afloat, Or, unaware, slip from view. A STRIP OF BLUE. They veer to the rosy ray; They dusk to the violet shade ; Like a thought they flit away; Like a foolish hope, they fade. But listen! a sudden plash! A ship is heaving in sight, With a stir, and a noisy dash Of the salt-foam, seething white. Tar-grimed and weather-stained, The sailors shout from her deck: Naught of the sky blue-veined, Or the dreamy waves they reck. And the sunburnt girl who stands Where her feet on the wet wrack slip,Eyes shaded with lithe, brown hands,— I She sees but the coming ship. A STRIP OF BLUE. Do not own an inch of land; Lucy Larcom. The orchards and the mowing fields 99 |