The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 02 / Additional Poems (1837-1848)

Produced by David Widger
1837-1848
IN the hour of twilight shadows The Pilgrim sire looked out; He thought of the bloudy Salvages That lurked all round about, Of Wituwamet's pictured knife And Pecksuot's whooping shout; For the baby's limbs were feeble, Though his father's arms were stout.
His home was a freezing cabin, Too bare for the hungry rat; Its roof was thatched with ragged grass, And bald enough of that; The hole that served for casement Was glazed with an ancient hat, And the ice was gently thawing From the log whereon he sat.
Along the dreary landscape His eyes went to and fro,
The trees all clad in icicles, The streams that did not flow; A sudden thought flashed o'er him,— A dream of long ago,— He smote his leathern jerkin, And murmured, Even so!
Come hither, God-be-Glorified, And sit upon my knee; Behold the dream unfolding, Whereof I spake to thee By the winter's hearth in Leyden And on the stormy sea. True is the dream's beginning,— So may its ending be!
I saw in the naked forest Our scattered remnant cast, A screen of shivering branches Between them and the blast; The snow was falling round them, The dying fell as fast; I looked to see them perish, When lo, the vision passed.
Again mine eyes were opened;— The feeble had waxed strong, The babes had grown to sturdy men, The remnant was a throng; By shadowed lake and winding stream, And all the shores along, The howling demons quaked to hear The Christian's godly song.
They slept, the village fathers, By river, lake, and shore, When far adown the steep of Time The vision rose once more I saw along the winter snow A spectral column pour, And high above their broken ranks A tattered flag they bore.
Their Leader rode before them, Of bearing calm and high, The light of Heaven's own kindling Throned in his awful eye; These were a Nation's champions Her dread appeal to try. God for the right! I faltered, And lo, the train passed by.
Once more;—the strife is ended, The solemn issue tried, The Lord of Hosts, his mighty arm Has helped our Israel's side; Gray stone and grassy hillock Tell where our martyrs died, But peaceful smiles the harvest, And stainless flows the tide.