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June, 1845 AD (search for this): chapter 1
istless power Which moves our fatherland. God blesses still the generous thought, And still the fitting word He speeds And Truth, at His requiring taught, He quickens into deeds. Where is the victory of the grave? What dust upon the spirit lies? God keeps the sacred life he gave,— The prophet never dies! 1844. To my friend on the death of his Sister. Sophia Sturge, sister of Joseph Sturge, of Birmingham, the President of the British Complete Suffrage Association, died in the 6th month, 1845. She was the colleague, counsellor, and ever-ready helpmate of her brother in all his vast designs of beneficence. The Birmingham Pilot says of her: Never, perhaps, were the active and passive virtues of the human character more harmoniously and beautifully blended than in this excellent woman. thine is a grief, the depth of which another May never know; Yet, o'er the waters, O my stricken brother! To thee I go. I lean my heart unto thee, sadly folding Thy hand in mine; With even
the disagreement of the Liberals of Germany upon a matter of dogma, which prevented them from unity of action. Ronge was born in Silesia in 1813 and died in October, 1887. His autobiography was translated into English and published in London in 1846. strike home, strong-hearted man! Down to the root Of old oppression sink the Saxon steel. Thy work is to hew down. In God's name then Put nerve into thy task. Let other men Plant, as they may, that better tree whose fruit The wounded bosom of see it, now and here, The New Jerusalem comes down to man! Be warned by Luther's error. Nor like him, When the roused Teuton dashes from his limb The rusted chain of ages, help to bind His hands for whom thou claim'st the freedom of the mind! 1846. Channing. The last time I saw Dr. Channing was in the summer of 1841, when, in company with my English friend, Joseph Sturge, so well known for his philanthropic labors and liberal political opinions, I visited him in his summer residence
The desolate and gone astray, The scattered of a cloudy day, And Zion's broken walls restore; And, through the travail and the toil Of true obedience, minister Beauty for ashes, and the oil Of joy for mourning, unto her! So shall her holy bounds increase With walls of praise and gates of peace: So shall the Vine, which martyr tears And blood sustained in other years, With fresher life be clothed upon; And to the world in beauty show Like the rose-plant of Jericho, And glorious as Lebanon! 1847. To Fredrika Bremer. It is proper to say that these lines are the joint impromptus of my sister and myself. They are inserted here as an expression of our admiration of the gifted stranger whom we have since learned to love as a friend. Seeress of the misty Norland, Daughter of the Vikings bold, Welcome to the sunny Vineland, Which thy fathers sought of old! Soft as flow of Silja's waters, When the moon of summer shines, Strong as Winter from his mountains Roaring through the sleet
walled cabin's hearth, Thy sweet thoughts and northern fancies Meet and mingle with our mirth. And o'er weary spirits keeping Sorrow's night-watch, long and chill, Shine they like thy sun of summer Over midnight vale and hill. We alone to thee are strangers, Thou our friend and teacher art; Come, and know us as we know thee; Let us meet thee heart to heart! To our homes and household altars We, in turn, thy steps would lead, As thy loving hand has led us O'er the threshold of the Swede. 1849. To Avis Keene. On Receiving a basket of sea-mosses. thanks for thy gift Of ocean flowers, Born where the golden drift Of the slant sunshine falls Down the green, tremulous walls Of water, to the cool, still coral bowers, Where, under rainbows of perpetual showers, God's gardens of the deep His patient angels keep; Gladdening the dim, strange solitude With fairest forms and hues, and thus Forever teaching us The lesson which the many-colored skies, The flowers, and leaves, and painted
owers, and drift Their perfume on the air, Alike may serve Him, each, with their own gift, Making their lives a prayer! 1850. The hill-top. the burly driver at my side, We slowly climbed the hill, Whose summit, in the hot noontide, Seemed risih! human kindness, human love,— To few who seek denied; Too late we learn to prize above The whole round world beside! 1850. Elliott. Ebenezer Elliott was to the artisans of England what Burns was to the peasantry of Scotland. His Corn-la part or lot in these we claim; But, o'er the sounding wave, A common right to Elliott's name, A freehold in his grave! 1850. Ichabod. This poem was the outcome of the surprise and grief and forecast of evil consequences which I felt on rean is dead! Then, pay the reverence of old days To his dead fame; Walk backward, with averted gaze, And hide the shame! 1850. The lost Occasion. some die too late and some too soon, At early morning, heat of noon, Or the chill evening twilight
hange and fall; But that which shares the life of God With Him surviveth all. 1851. To——. Lines written after a summer day's Excursion. fair Nature's priestesly walks to trace The outlines of incarnate grace, The hymns of gods to hear! 1851. In Peace. A track Of moonlight on a quiet lake, Whose small waves on a silvgetful of the tricks of art, With pencil dipped alone in colors of the heart. 1851. Benedicite. God's love and peace be with thee, where Soe'er this soft autumsweet day, As thou mayst hear and I may say, I greet thee, dearest, far away. 1851. Kossuth. It can scarcely be necessary to say that there are elements in the noblest guest The Old World's wrong has given the New World of the West! 1851. To my old Schoolmaster. An Epistle not after the manner of Horace. Thesmade stuff,— Wise and simple, rich and poor, Thou hast known them all before! 1851. The cross. Richard Dillingham, a young member of the Society of Friends,<
ow didst thou, in thy generous youth, Bear witness to this blessed truth! Thy cross of suffering and of shame A staff within thy hands became, In paths where faith alone could see The Master's steps supporting thee. Thine was the seed-time; God alone Beholds the end of what is sown; Beyond our vision, weak and dim, The harvest-time is hid with Him. Yet, unforgotten where it lies, That seed of generous sacrifice, Though seeming on the desert cast, Shall rise with bloom and fruit at last. 1852. The hero. The hero of the incident related in this poem was Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe, the well-known philanthropist, who when a young man volunteered his aid in the Greek struggle for independence. “Oh for a knight like Bayard, Without reproach or fear; My light glove on his casque of steel, My love-knot on his spear! Oh for the white plume floating Sad Zutphen's field above,— The lion heart in battle, The woman's heart in love! Oh that man once more were manly, Woman's pride, an
rever groans a slave,— Wherever rise the peoples, Wherever sinks a throne, The throbbing heart of Freedom finds An answer in his own. Knight of a better era, Without reproach or fear! Said I not well that Bayards And Sidneys still are here? “ 1853. Rantoul. No more fitting inscription could be placed on the tombstone of Robert Rantoul than this: He died at his post in Congress, and his last words were a protest in the name of Democracy against the Fugitive-Slave Law. one day, along t lofty protest utters o'er; Through roaring wind and smiting wave It speaks his hate of wrong once more. Men of the North! your weak regret Is wasted here; arise and pay To freedom and to him your debt, By following where he led the way! “ 1853. William Forster. William Forster, of Norwich, England, died in East Tennessee, in the 1st month, 1854, while engaged in presenting to the governors of the States of this Union the address of his religious society on the evils of slavery. <
s worthy now to wear? Methinks the mound which marks thy bed Might bless our land and save, As rose, of old, to life the dead Who touched the prophet's grave! 1854. To Charles Sumner. if I have seemed more prompt to censure wrong Than praise the right; if seldom to thine ear My voice hath mingled with the exultant cheer Bor's host assailed, Stands strong as Truth, in greaves of granite mailed; And, tranquil-fronted, listening over all The tumult, hears the angels say, Well done! 1854. Burns. On Receiving a Sprig of heather in blossom. No more these simple flowers belong To Scottish maid and lover; Sown in the common soil of song, They bloo warm with smiles and blushes! Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So ‘Bonnie Doon’ but tarry; Blot out the Epic's stately rhyme, But spare his Highland Mary! 1854. To Georce B. Cheever. So spake Esaias: so, in words of flame, Tekoa's prophet-herdsman smote with blame The traffickers in men, and put to shame, All earth
January, 1854 AD (search for this): chapter 1
o lapse of folly now can stain: The lips whence Freedom's protest fell No meaner thought can now profane. Mightier than living voice his grave That lofty protest utters o'er; Through roaring wind and smiting wave It speaks his hate of wrong once more. Men of the North! your weak regret Is wasted here; arise and pay To freedom and to him your debt, By following where he led the way! “ 1853. William Forster. William Forster, of Norwich, England, died in East Tennessee, in the 1st month, 1854, while engaged in presenting to the governors of the States of this Union the address of his religious society on the evils of slavery. He was the relative and coadjutor of the Buxtons, Gurneys, and Frys; and his whole life, extending almost to threescore and ten years, was a pure and beautiful example of Christian benevolence. He had travelled over Europe, and visited most of its sovereigns, to plead against the slave-trade and slavery; and had twice before made visits to this coun
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