Poems (Chitwood)/When?
WHEN?
When breaks the morning? long have watchful eyes, Dimmed by the dusky shadows of the night,Lifted their lids in vain to mark the skies, If yet the "golden promise" burst in light;Sages have died and bounding hearts grown old, And mute as dust the pulsing lips of seers,As one by one to yesterdays have rolled The close-linked days that wove the woof of years.
When breaks the morning, prophesied so long? As Faith looked upward, patient waiting still;As Poesy, entranced, wove into song Great words of promise, making sad hearts thrill;As Borealis in the northland night Flashes and burns like day along the sky,—Have soft lines o'er Time's orient, clear and bright, Mocked us with morning promise and passed by.
When breaks the morning? Ah! too long, too long Might's hungry lion hath on blood been fed,And the great giant, surly, heartless Wrong, Trampled the helpless 'neath his careless tread.Fetters have galled and left their crimson sear Upon fair limbs, like gashes; in the gloomMan learned to hate his brother as the war Filled up the earth with darkness as a tomb.
When breaks the morning? Ah! this age of gold, When hands grasp wealth like fetters, hearts are stone,Bars deaf to anguish, sad-eyed Pity cold In her wan shroud, and Love weeps on alone;When Self is God, and haughty Pride holds sway, And Sin mocks Retribution, blear-eyed ViceTaunts his pursuers and torments his prey, Till Mercy's blood is frozen into ice.
When breaks the morning? when shall that sweet tie, Binding the human brotherhood in peace,Draw close and closer, till the last sad cry Of smothered anguish shall for ever cease?When shall the strong protect the trembling weak? When shall the tempter spread no more his net?Oh! when shall Plenty kiss the lip and cheek Of wan Starvation, now with tear-drops wet?
When breaks the morning? Prophet, poet, seer, Is the sky brightening? Oh ye true and good, Toil on and pray, and hope, and watch—the year Will some time dawn—the human brotherhoodGrow love-like, and thus godlike—stinging Sin Fly from its own dark shadow—Wrong's red throneTotter and. fall—remorseless Pride shall win No refuge spot, and Hate in death shall groan!
When breaks the morning? Ope, ye radiant hours, Golden with beauty—ope, ye weary eyes!'Neath Love's warm kisses, move, soft feet, o'er flowers! Feast, smiling lips, on peace-bread! weary, rise!Fill all the world, sweet Melody, with song; For Love is king—Love watches over men!When shall that morning dawn, foretold so long? Angels shall joy in that delightful "when!"