Shapes of Clay Part 43

Says England to Germany: "Africa's ours."

Says Germany: "Ours, I opine."

Says Africa: "Tell me, delectable Pow'rs, What is it that ought to be mine?"

THE MAN BORN BLIND.

A man born blind received his sight By a painful operation; And these are things he saw in the light Of an infant observation.

He saw a merchant, good and wise.

And greatly, too, respected, Who looked, to those imperfect eyes, Like a swindler undetected.

He saw a patriot address A noisy public meeting.

And said: "Why, that's a calf. I guess.

That for the teat is bleating."

A doctor stood beside a bed And shook his summit sadly.

"O see that foul a.s.sa.s.sin!" said The man who saw so badly.

He saw a lawyer pleading for A thief whom they'd been jailing, And said: "That's an accomplice, or My sight again is failing."

Upon the Bench a Justice sat, With nothing to restrain him; "'Tis strange," said the observer, "that They ventured to unchain him."

With theologic works supplied, He saw a solemn preacher; "A burglar with his kit," he cried, "To rob a fellow creature."

A bluff old farmer next he saw Sell produce in a village, And said: "What, what! is there no law To punish men for pillage?"

A dame, tall, fair and stately, pa.s.sed, Who many charms united; He thanked his stars his lot was cast Where sepulchers were whited.

He saw a soldier stiff and stern, "Full of strange oaths" and toddy; But was unable to discern A wound upon his body.

Ten square leagues of rolling ground To one great man belonging, Looked like one little gra.s.sy mound With worms beneath it thronging.

A palace's well-carven stones, Where Dives dwelt contented, Seemed built throughout of human bones With human blood cemented.

He watched the yellow shining thread A silk-worm was a-spinning; "That creature's coining gold." he said, "To pay some girl for sinning."

His eyes were so untrained and dim All politics, religions, Arts, sciences, appeared to him But modes of plucking pigeons.

And so he drew his final breath, And thought he saw with sorrow Some persons weeping for his death Who'd be all smiles to-morrow.

A NIGHTMARE.

I dreamed that I was dead. The years went by: The world forgot that such a man as I Had ever lived and written: other names Were hailed with homage, in their turn to die.

Out of my grave a giant beech upgrew.

Its roots transpierced my body, through and through, My substance fed its growth. From many lands Men came in troops that giant tree to view.

'T was sacred to my memory and fame-- My monument. But Allen Forman came, Filled with the fervor of a new untruth, And carved upon the trunk his odious name!

A WET SEASON.

Horas non numero nisi serenas.

The rain is fierce, it flogs the earth, And man's in danger.

O that my mother at my birth Had borne a stranger!

The flooded ground is all around.

The depth uncommon.

How blest I'd be if only she Had borne a salmon.

If still denied the solar glow 'T were bliss ecstatic To be amphibious--but O, To be aquatic!

We're worms, men say, o' the dust, and they That faith are firm of.

O, then, be just: show me some dust To be a worm of.

The pines are chanting overhead A psalm uncheering.

It's O, to have been for ages dead And hard of hearing!

Restore, ye Pow'rs, the last bright hours The dial reckoned; 'Twas in the time of Egypt's prime-- Rameses II.

THE CONFEDERATE FLAGS.

Tut-tut! give back the flags--how can you care You veterans and heroes?

Why should you at a kind intention swear Like twenty Neroes?

Suppose the act was not so overwise-- Suppose it was illegal-- Is 't well on such a question to arise And pinch the Eagle?

Nay, let's economize his breath to scold And terrify the alien Who tackles him, as Hercules of old The bird Stymphalian.

Among the rebels when we made a breach Was it to get their banners?

That was but incidental--'t was to teach Them better manners.

They know the lesson well enough to-day; Now, let us try to show them That we 're not only stronger far than they.

(How we did mow them!)