  ENGLAND AND AMERICAGREATEST twain among the nations, Bound alike by kindred ties— Ties that never should be sundered While your banners grace the skies— But united, stand and labor, Side by side, and hand in hand, Battling with the sword of Freedom For the peace of every land. Yours the one beloved language, Yours the same religious creed, Yours the glory and the power, Great as ever was the meed Of old Rome, or Greece, or Sparta, When their arms victoriously Proved their terrible puissance Over every land and sea. Let the son respect the sire, Let the father love the son, Both unitedly supporting All the glories they have won: Thus in concert nobly wrestling, They may work the world's release, And when having crushed its tyrants, Stand the Sentinels of Peace— Stand the mighty twin Colossus' Giants of the latter days, Straightening for the coming kingdom All the steep and rugged ways, Down which many a lofty nation— Lofty on the scroll of fame— Has been swept to righteous judgment, Naught remaining but its name. What! allied to Merrie England, Have ye not a noble birth? Yours, America, her honors, Yours her every deed of worth. Have ye not her Norman courage? Wear ye not her Saxon cast? Boast ye not her love of Freedom? Do ye not revere the past When her mighty men of genius— Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Pope— Glorified that self-same language, Since become your pride and hope?... There will come a time, my Brothers, And a dread time it will be, When your swords will flash together, For your faith in jeopardy. Not for crowns, or lands, or sceptres, Will the fight be fought and won, Not for fame, or treaties broken, But for God and God alone: For the mind with which He blessed us, That a false creed would keep down, Shackle—bind it to its purpose— To uphold a falling crown. See that then ye fail not, Brothers! Set the listening skies aglow With such deeds as live in heaven, If your Faith be worth a blow. Proud, then, of each other's greatness, Ever struggle side by side; Noble Son! time-honored Parent! Let no paltry strife divide Hearts like yours, that should be mindful Only of each other's worth— Mindful of your high position 'Mongst the powers of the earth. Mightiest twain among the nations! Bound alike by kindred ties— Ties that never should be sundered, While your banners grace the skies: Hearts and destinies once united, Steadfast to each other prove, Bind them with enduring fetters— Bind them with the Bonds of Love. I SAT within the temple of her heart, And watched the living soul as it passed through, Arrayed in pearly vestments, white and pure. The calm, immortal presence made me start. It searched through all the chambers of her mind With one mild glance of love, and smiled to view The fastnesses of feeling, strong—secure And safe from all surprise. It sits enshrined And offers incense in her heart, as on An altar sacred unto God. The dawn Of an imperishable love passed through The lattice of my senses, and I, too, Did offer incense in that solemn place— A woman's heart made pure and sanctified by grace. SLOWLY rose the dÆdal Earth Through the purple-hued abysm, Glowing like a gorgeous prism, Heaven exulting o'er its birth. Still the mighty wonder came Through the jasper-colored sphere, Ether-winged, and crystal-clear, Trembling to the loud acclaim. In a haze of golden rain Up the heavens rolled the sun, DanÄe-like the earth was won, Else his love and light were vain. So the heart and soul of man Own the light and love of heaven; Nothing yet in vain was given, Nature's is a perfect plan. LOVE'S sun, like that of day, may set, and set, It hath as bright a rising in the morn. True love has no grey hairs; his golden locks Can never whiten with the snows of time. Sorrow lies drear on many a youthful heart, Like snow upon the evergreens; but love Can gather sweetest honey by the way, E'en from the carcass of some prostrate grief.— We have been spoiled with blessings. Though the world Holds nothing dearer than the hope that's fled, God ever opens up new founts of bliss— Spiritual Bethsaidas where the soul Can wash the earth-stains from its fevered loins. We carve our sorrows on the face of joy, Reversing the true image; we are weak Where strength is needed most, and most is given. 'TIS Summer still, yet now and then a leaf Falls from some stately tree. True type of life! How emblematic of the pangs that grief Wrings from our blighted hopes, that one by one Drop from us in our wrestle with the strife And natural passions of our stately youth. And thus we fall beneath life's summer sun. Each step conducts us through an opening door Into new halls of being, hand in hand With grave Experience, until we command The open, wide-spread autumn fields, and store The full ripe grain of Wisdom and of Truth. As on life's tottering precipice we stand, Our sins, like withered leaves, are blown about the land. |
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