Part 27 (1/2)

Thou seest the white seas strike their tents, O Warder of two continents!

And, scornful of the peace that flies Thy angry winds and sullen skies,

Thou drawest all things, small, or great, To thee, beside the Western Gate.

O lion's whelp, that hidest fast In jungle growth of spire and mast!

I know thy cunning and thy greed, Thy hard high l.u.s.t and willful deed,

And all thy glory loves to tell Of specious gifts material.

Drop down, O Fleecy Fog, and hide Her skeptic sneer and all her pride!

Wrap her, O Fog, in gown and hood Of her Franciscan Brotherhood.

Hide me her faults, her sin and blame; With thy gray mantle cloak her shame!

So shall she, cowled, sit and pray Till morning bears her sins away.

Then rise, O Fleecy Fog, and raise The glory of her coming days;

Be as the cloud that flecks the seas Above her smoky argosies;

When forms familiar shall give place To stranger speech and newer face;

When all her throes and anxious fears Lie hushed in the repose of years;

When Art shall raise and Culture lift The sensual joys and meaner thrift,

And all fulfilled the vision we Who watch and wait shall never see;

Who, in the morning of her race, Toiled fair or meanly in our place,

But, yielding to the common lot, Lie unrecorded and forgot.

THE MOUNTAIN HEART'S-EASE

By scattered rocks and turbid waters s.h.i.+fting, By furrowed glade and dell, To feverish men thy calm, sweet face uplifting, Thou stayest them to tell

The delicate thought that cannot find expression, For ruder speech too fair, That, like thy petals, trembles in possession, And scatters on the air.

The miner pauses in his rugged labor, And, leaning on his spade, Laughingly calls unto his comrade-neighbor To see thy charms displayed.

But in his eyes a mist unwonted rises, And for a moment clear Some sweet home face his foolish thought surprises, And pa.s.ses in a tear,--