The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes Part 38

A VOICE OF THE LOYAL NORTH

1861

JANUARY THIRD

WE sing "Our Country's" song to-night With saddened voice and eye; Her banner droops in clouded light Beneath the wintry sky.

We'll pledge her once in golden wine Before her stars have set Though dim one reddening orb may shine, We have a Country yet.

'T were vain to sigh o'er errors past, The fault of sires or sons; Our soldier heard the threatening blast, And spiked his useless guns; He saw the star-wreathed ensign fall, By mad invaders torn; But saw it from the bastioned wall That laughed their rage to scorn!

What though their angry cry is flung Across the howling wave,-- They smite the air with idle tongue The gathering storm who brave; Enough of speech! the trumpet rings; Be silent, patient, calm,-- G.o.d help them if the tempest swings The pine against the palm!

Our toilsome years have made us tame; Our strength has slept unfelt; The furnace-fire is slow to flame That bids our ploughshares melt; 'T is hard to lose the bread they win In spite of Nature's frowns,-- To drop the iron threads we spin That weave our web of towns,

To see the rusting turbines stand Before the emptied flumes, To fold the arms that flood the land With rivers from their looms,-- But harder still for those who learn The truth forgot so long; When once their slumbering pa.s.sions burn, The peaceful are the strong!

The Lord have mercy on the weak, And calm their frenzied ire, And save our brothers ere they shriek, "We played with Northern fire!"

The eagle hold his mountain height,-- The tiger pace his den Give all their country, each his right!

G.o.d keep us all! Amen!

J. D. R.

1862

THE friends that are, and friends that were, What shallow waves divide!

I miss the form for many a year Still seated at my side.

I miss him, yet I feel him still Amidst our faithful band, As if not death itself could chill The warmth of friendship's hand.

His story other lips may tell,-- For me the veil is drawn; I only knew he loved me well, He loved me--and is gone!

VOYAGE OF THE GOOD SHIP UNION

1862

'T is midnight: through my troubled dream Loud wails the tempest's cry; Before the gale, with tattered sail, A ship goes plunging by.

What name? Where bound?--The rocks around Repeat the loud halloo.

--The good ship Union, Southward bound: G.o.d help her and her crew!

And is the old flag flying still That o'er your fathers flew, With bands of white and rosy light, And field of starry blue?

--Ay! look aloft! its folds full oft Have braved the roaring blast, And still shall fly when from the sky This black typhoon has past!

Speak, pilot of the storm-tost bark!

May I thy peril share?

--O landsman, there are fearful seas The brave alone may dare!

--Nay, ruler of the rebel deep, What matters wind or wave?

The rocks that wreck your reeling deck Will leave me naught to save!

O landsman, art thou false or true?

What sign hast thou to show?

--The crimson stains from loyal veins That hold my heart-blood's flow --Enough! what more shall honor claim?

I know the sacred sign; Above thy head our flag shall spread, Our ocean path be thine!

The bark sails on; the Pilgrim's Cape Lies low along her lee, Whose headland crooks its anchor-flukes To lock the sh.o.r.e and sea.

No treason here! it cost too dear To win this barren realm And true and free the hands must be That hold the whaler's helm!

Still on! Manhattan's narrowing bay No rebel cruiser scars; Her waters feel no pirate's keel That flaunts the fallen stars!

--But watch the light on yonder height,-- Ay, pilot, have a care!

Some lingering cloud in mist may shroud The capes of Delaware!

Say, pilot, what this fort may be, Whose sentinels look down From moated walls that show the sea Their deep embrasures' frown?

The Rebel host claims all the coast, But these are friends, we know, Whose footprints spoil the "sacred soil,"

And this is?--Fort Monroe!

The breakers roar,--how bears the sh.o.r.e?

--The traitorous wreckers' hands Have quenched the blaze that poured its rays Along the Hatteras sands.

--Ha! say not so! I see its glow!

Again the shoals display The beacon light that shines by night, The Union Stars by day!

The good ship flies to milder skies, The wave more gently flows, The softening breeze wafts o'er the seas The breath of Beaufort's rose.

What fold is this the sweet winds kiss, Fair-striped and many-starred, Whose shadow palls these orphaned walls, The twins of Beauregard?

What! heard you not Port Royal's doom?

How the black war-ships came And turned the Beaufort roses' bloom To redder wreaths of flame?

How from Rebellion's broken reed We saw his emblem fall, As soon his cursed poison-weed Shall drop from Sumter's wall?

On! on! Pulaski's iron hail Falls harmless on Tybee!

The good ship feels the freshening gales, She strikes the open sea; She rounds the point, she threads the keys That guard the Land of Flowers, And rides at last where firm and fast Her own Gibraltar towers!

The good ship Union's voyage is o'er, At anchor safe she swings, And loud and clear with cheer on cheer Her joyous welcome rings: Hurrah! Hurrah! it shakes the wave, It thunders on the sh.o.r.e,-- One flag, one land, one heart, one hand, One Nation, evermore!

"CHOOSE YOU THIS DAY WHOM YE WILL SERVE"

1863