Alone, O Love ineffable! Thy saving name is given; How vain, secure in all Thou art, Not Thine the bigot's partial plea, Our Friend, our Brother, and our Lord, We bring no ghastly holocaust, He serves Thee best who loveth most Thy litanies, sweet offices Of love and gratitude; In vain shall waves of incense drift In vain the minster turret lift 120 130 140 ABRAHAM DAVENPORT In the old days (a custom laid aside With breeches and cocked hats) the people sent Their wisest men to make the public laws. And so, from a brown homestead, where the Sound Drinks the small tribute of the Mianas, Waved over by the woods of Rippowams, And hallowed by pure lives and tranquil deaths, Stamford sent up to the councils of the State Wisdom and grace in Abraham Davenport. 'Twas on a May-day of the far old year Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell Over the bloom and sweet life of the Spring, II Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon, A horror of great darkness, like the night In day of which the Norland sagas tell,The Twilight of the Gods. The lowhung sky Was black with ominous clouds, save where its rim Was fringed with a dull glow, like that which climbs The crater's sides from the red hell below. Birds ceased to sing, and all the barnyard fowls 20 Roosted; the cattle at the pasture bars Lowed, and looked homeward; bats on leathern wings Flitted abroad; the sounds of labor died; Men prayed, and women wept; all ears grew sharp To hear the doom-blast of the trumpet A witness to the ages as they pass, The Atlantic Monthly, May, 1866. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL "I WOULD NOT HAVE THIS PER- I would not have this perfect love of ours It should grow always like that Eastern “MY LOVE, I HAVE NO FEAR THAT THOU SHOULDST DIE" My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die; Albeit I ask no fairer life than this, Whose numbering-clock is still thy gentle kiss, While Time and Peace with hands en- Yet care I not where in Eternity Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings Love hath so purified my being's core, "OUR LOVE IS NOT A FADING EARTHLY FLOWER” Our love is not a fading earthly flower: Its winged seed dropped down from Paradise, And, nursed by day and night, by sun Doth momently to fresher beauty rise: Our summer hearts make summer's ful- No leaf, or bud, or blossom may be seen: 10 Whose mystic key these cells of Thou and I AN INCIDENT IN A RAILROAD CAR He spoke of Burns: men rude and rough Pressed round to hear the praise of one Whose heart was made of manly, simple stuff, As homespun as their own. And, when he read, they forward leaned, Drinking, with thirsty hearts and ears, His brook-like songs whom glory never weaned From humble smiles and tears. Slowly there grew a tender awe, It was a sight for sin and wrong A sight to make our faith more pure and strong In high humanity. |