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O fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
Which once he wore
Revile him not, -the Tempter hath
A snare for all ;
Befit his fall !
0, dumb be passion's stormy rage,
When he who might
Falls back in night!
Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark
A bright soul driven,
From hope and heaven?
Let not the land, once proud of him,
Insult him now,
But let its humbled Sons, instead,
From sea to lake,
In sadness make.
Of all we loved and honored, naught
Save power remains,
Still strong in chains.
All else is gone; from those great eyes
The soul has fled :
The man is dead !
Then, pay the reverence of old days
To his dead fame;
And hide the shame!
HE South-land boasts its teeming cane,
The prairied West its heavy grain,
Rough, bleak and hard, our little State
From Autumn frost to April rain,
Yet, on her rocks, and on her sands,
The riches of the commonwealth
For well she keeps her ancient stock,
STANZAS FOR THE TIMES.
The wanderer's way.
Which binds our States
Close up her gates.
By voice below,
May overthrow !
Our blood and name;
Cries out for shame!
O for the open firmament,
The prairie free,
The Bushman's tree !
Than web of Persian loom most rare,
Or soft divan,
With suffering man.
Let Love be dumb;
From hearth and home.”
I hear another voice: “ The poor
Are thine to feed ; Turn not the outcast from thy door, Nor give to bonds and wrong once more
Whom God hath freed."
Dear Lord ! between that law and thee
No choice remains;
Who bears its pains.
And threatening word;
More than the sword. 0, clear-eyed Faith, and Patience, thou
So calm and strong! Lend strength to weakness, teach us how The sleepless eyes of God look through
This night of wrong!