Oh, men! who hold a people's fate,
There in the hollow of your hand.
Each word you utter, soon, or late,
Shall leave its impress on our land,--
Forth from the halls of legislation,
Shall speed its way, through all the Nation.
Then may The Source of Truth, and Light,
Be ever o'er you, ever near.
And may He guide each word aright;
May no false precept, greet the ear,
No selfish love, for purse, or faction,
Stay Justice's hand, or guide one action.
And may no one, among these men
Lift to his lips, the damning glass,
Let no man say, with truth, again,
What has been said, in truth, alas,
"Men drink, in halls of legislation--
Why shouldn't we, of lower station!"
Oh, men! you see, you hear this beast,
This fiend that pillages the earth.
Whose work is death--whose hourly feast,
Is noble souls, and minds of worth--
You see--and if you will not chain him,
Nor reach one hand forth, to detain him.
For God's sake, do not give him aid,
Nor urge him onward. Oh, to me,
It seems so strange that laws are made
To crush all other crimes, while he
Who bears down through Hell's gaping portals
The countless souls, of rum wrecked mortals,
Is left to wander, to, and fro,
In perfect freedom through the land.
And those who ought to see, and know,
Will lift no warning voice, or hand.
Oh, men in halls of legislation.
Rise to the combat, save the Nation!
January, 1871
[DECORATION POEM]
Gather them out of the valley--
Bring them from moorland and hill,
And cast them in wreaths and in garlands.
On the city so silent and still--
So voiceless, so silent, and still;
Where neighbor speaks never to neighbor,
Where the song of the bird, and the brown bee is heard,
But never the harsh sounds of labor.
Bring them from woodland and meadow--
As fresh, and as fair, as can be.
Bring them, all kinds, and all colors.
That grow upon upland and lea--
That spring in wild grace on the lea.
And rifle the green earth's warm bosom
Of each flower, and blow, till "God's acre" shall glow
And bloom, like a garden in blossom.