  Decorative Who unto earth shall again return! You are my own: Be it not forgotten, I am the penalty sin did earn!... O man, time's guest! With my grasp, I reach thee, From east to west, And by voices, teach thee With scripture's word in the Master's name, From air and water and earth and flame. In sunny summer, their fragile nest: Securely feeling, in shady shielding, They sing so joyful in happy rest; But sudden gust Of the tempest shatters The tiny crust Of their nest in tatters— The merry song, heard so short before, With grief is silenced forevermore. You sigh for morn, with to-day not through, When, unbethought, like a trap-door falling, The earth unlocketh itself for you— You disappear Where no light is nearing— Soon mem'ry dear Is no more endearing— And new-lit moon, from its silvered sky, Again, sees others arrive and fly. You follow wildly amusement's thread, With myrtle blooming and music ringing ... But solemn I on the threshold tread:— The dance is checked And the clang is wailing, The wreath is wrecked And the bride is paling: The end of splendor and joy and might Is only sorrow and tears and blight. Till yet a mightier shall appear. In deepest pit, on the highest tower, My chilling spirit is ever near: Those plagues of night And of desolation, Whose breath of blight May annul a nation, They slay the victims, which I select, Whom shield and armor can not protect. And calm the waves ere they reach the strand. I crush the schemes of dynastic conquest, And wrench the club from the tyrant's hand. I eras chase, Like the hour just passing; And race on race, With their works amassing, Like heaving waves, in my footsteps flow, Till, last, no ripples their murmur show. 'Gainst me nor weapons nor arts prevail. I freedom give to the slave in fetters,— His ruler's will I in irons nail. I lead the battle— And armies tumble, Like slaughtered cattle, While cannons rumble, And never rise from their sudden fall Until alarmed by the judgment-call. All life on earth to that place doth fly, Where not a sound to the ear is creeping, Where not a tongue moves to make reply. My foot meanders— And kings and heroes, And Alexanders, And wicked Neros, And princes, lofty in might and lust, Are all transformed to—a handful dust. And beg and wrangle for rank and gift, I mix the races among each other, I lay the centuries, drift on drift. Forlorn and friendless Exists no pleasure; In shadows endless No pomp, or treasure. Their owners left them when on came night— Now others claim them, with lawful right. No guarded fort, that can save you, known. Though by recorded transfer protected, Your gained possession is not your own: The purple hems Of your silk-robed neighbor, The crape, the gems, And the yoke of labor, Lo, other mortals their folds adorn, On other shoulders their loads are borne! You have not here either house or home. You soon shall dwell in that narrow city, Where sun and moon never lit the dome; Where crest and foil At the gate shall crumble— And, from his toil, Be released the humble; Where captives' fetters, and love's sweet band, Shall, fragile, break by the same strong hand. Then they have wandered away that road, Whence none returneth to greet another, The foot-path, soon, to your last abode.... Take tender care of The charge God left thee, Ere, unaware of, It be bereft thee, Before your eyes nevermore to mount, Till for its keeping you shall account! Will then be questions too late to heed. You then find brethren—such is the sequel— You spiteful rich, in the worms |
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