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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore) 4 0 Browse Search
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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore), One voice. (search)
One voice. by Minnie Fry. One who sat at home in silence Saw the army hurrying by, And her thoughts gave echo faintly To their eager battle-cry. “Ah!” she sang, “some wrong is hidden Under all our high endeavor; We shall fail, and fail forever, Till we work as we are bidden; Till the last red chain we sever, Linking us to sin and wrong. What although the tie be strong? Yet the spirit sword is stronger, Keen to sever good from ill; Ready, when we doubt no longer, All God's purpose to fulfil, Ready, waiting for our hand; Shall our hands hang slack beside us, Idle till some good betide us While the war-cloud glooms the land?” “Rise, O youth, in strength and glory, Age with wisdom deep and calm; Minstrel tune for lofty story; Women pour the healing balm. Let the earth feel your upstarting; Shame on those who careless stand, While the glory is departing From the threshold of our land; Come with freedom for the nation, Freedom for each man therein; Spread the glorious proclamatio
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore), A curse for A nation. (search)
A curse for A nation. by Minnie Fry. I heard an angel speak last night, And he said: “Write, Write a nation's curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.” --E. B. Browning. O Woman crowned with motherhood, And sphered in song I How couldst thou send That curse against a kindred blood With Heaven's long garnered wrath to blend! A mother's curse the strong man fears Through all the glory of his years; But we have cause for deeper dread, When she who lifts denouncing hands A priestess at Love's altar stands, A priestess bound by holiest vows, A woman's crown upon her head, A poet's glory on her brows. O woman poet! In the dust We lay our pride — our hearts are sad-- We walked abroad among the glad Free nations of the earth — more just, More noble we than all beside-- Till suddenly our triumph died, And a great awe stole o'er the land. As one who sees his ship's command Torn from him by the fateful winds, As one whom sudden lightning blinds, We gazed aghast at destiny, And