And in heroic trust
That night would yield to day--
His imperfections thick as dust
Along the desert way;
His bold, rebuking cry
Heard in the wilderness.
Till from the chariot of the sky
His mantle fell to bless--
The stern, half-savage seer
Became a prophecy
Of gladness and the Golden Year,
In all high minstrelsy.
* * * * *
Aelemaehus the Monk.
How well he wrought who stood
Against an ancient wrong,
And left the spangles of his blood
To light the sky of song!
A gladiatorial show,
And eighty thousand men
For savage pastime all aglow--
O marvel there and then!
An unknown monk, his life
Defenseless, interposed,
Forbade the old barbaric strife--
The red arena closed!
That unrecovered rout!
Those fire-shafts from the Sun!
O Telemaque! who, who shall doubt
Thy Master's will was done?
* * * * *
Washington.
The deeds of Washington
Were lit with patriot flame;
A crown for Liberty he won,
And won undying fame.
He heard his country's cry,
He heard her bugle-call,
'Twas sweet to live for her, or die;
Her cause was all in all.
He heard the psalm of peace,
He sought again the plow;
O civic toil, canst thou increase
The laurels for his brow?
As with a father's hand
He led the infant state;
Colossus of his native land,
He still is growing great.
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