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Charles E. Stowe, Harriet Beecher Stowe compiled from her letters and journals by her son Charles Edward Stowe, Chapter 21: closing scenes, 1870-1889. (search)
ng the Southern roses. When Archimedes, long ago, Spoke out so grandly, “*do\s pou= stw=, - Give me a place to stand on, I'll move your planet for you, now,” -- He little dreamed or fancied how The sto at last should find its pou For woman's faith to land on. Her lever was the wand of art, Her fulcrum was the human heart, Whence all unfailing aid is; She moved the earth! Its thunders pealed, Its mountains shook, its temples reeled, The blood-red fountains were unsealed, And Moloch sunk to Hades. All through the conflict, up and down Marched Uncle Tom and Old John Brown, One ghost, one form ideal; And which was false and which was true, And which was mightier of the two, The wisest sibyl never knew, For both aEke were real. Sister, the holy maid does well Who counts her beads in convent cell, Where pale devotion lingers; But she who serves the sufferer's needs, Whose prayers are spelt in loving deeds, May trust the Lord will count her beads As well as human fingers. When Truth h