Poems (Jones)/The Year of Victories
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
ALE-BROWED and breathless, flung in haste on Night's black shallop, lies the Year:
And rushing sails across the waste of Death's deep sullen tides we hear;
Oh, yet our mournful plea we urge—"Return! return! for thou wert brave;
And while we trod War's roaring surge, wert swift to reach and strong to save!"
THE YEAR OF VICTORIES.JANUARY 1, 1865.
ALE-BROWED and breathless, flung in haste on Night's black shallop, lies the Year:And rushing sails across the waste of Death's deep sullen tides we hear;
Oh, yet our mournful plea we urge—"Return! return! for thou wert brave;
And while we trod War's roaring surge, wert swift to reach and strong to save!"
Far, far he floats whose glories grew more bright with every hour that passed,—
Who loaded all the winds that blew with his triumphal bugle-blast;
But while his dirge in solemn flow goes wailing through our troubled reeds,
Break from the breathings of its woe and voice the grandeur of his deeds.
Who loaded all the winds that blew with his triumphal bugle-blast;
But while his dirge in solemn flow goes wailing through our troubled reeds,
Break from the breathings of its woe and voice the grandeur of his deeds.
He rent resisting traitor-hosts, and filled with righteous spoil our hands;
He smote their cannon-guarded coasts; he rode victorious through their lands;
Our flag he flung from tower and mast o'er many a conquered fort and mere;
Beneath the yawning seas he cast full many a prowling privateer.
He smote their cannon-guarded coasts; he rode victorious through their lands;
Our flag he flung from tower and mast o'er many a conquered fort and mere;
Beneath the yawning seas he cast full many a prowling privateer.
He touched the bondman, burden-bowed, long taught the gory lash to dread—
Straight rose a soldier, free and proud—oh then it was the master bled!
He swept the harp of freemen's souls, till all its rising murmurings
Rolled forth in thunder from the polls, and shook the very thrones of kings!
Straight rose a soldier, free and proud—oh then it was the master bled!
He swept the harp of freemen's souls, till all its rising murmurings
Rolled forth in thunder from the polls, and shook the very thrones of kings!
From torrid plains to northern snows his rhythmic praise of heroes rang,
Till swift, impetuous boyhood rose, and rushed to dare the deeds he sang;
And ah, in lines of vivid light that gild our grand Columbian lore,
What deathless names we saw him write beside the deathless names of yore!
Till swift, impetuous boyhood rose, and rushed to dare the deeds he sang;
And ah, in lines of vivid light that gild our grand Columbian lore,
What deathless names we saw him write beside the deathless names of yore!
Farewell, farewell, O passing Year! thy wingèd bark shall stay its flight
Beside that shore whose crystal pier with all the angelhood is bright;
There they whose peace no tears may move, whose smiles no more our eyes behold,
To hear thy story of our love lean silent on their harps of gold.
Beside that shore whose crystal pier with all the angelhood is bright;
There they whose peace no tears may move, whose smiles no more our eyes behold,
To hear thy story of our love lean silent on their harps of gold.
Farewell, farewell! o'er tidal seas the shimmering light begins to creep,
And fleetly, in the laughing breeze yon white-sailed shallop rides the deep;
Lo! godlike on the silver prow he stands, the New Year—pure of wrong:
Fair shines the olive on his brow; his smiling lips o'erflow with song.
And fleetly, in the laughing breeze yon white-sailed shallop rides the deep;
Lo! godlike on the silver prow he stands, the New Year—pure of wrong:
Fair shines the olive on his brow; his smiling lips o'erflow with song.
O loyal souls, in reverence kneel and hail the savior of the land!
Swift rolls the tide—the cleaving keel is swept in music up the strand.
Fling from your hearts their loads of fear; for by this beauteous dawn we know,
Around the footsteps of the Year, full soon the crescive day will flow.
Swift rolls the tide—the cleaving keel is swept in music up the strand.
Fling from your hearts their loads of fear; for by this beauteous dawn we know,
Around the footsteps of the Year, full soon the crescive day will flow.
Then shall fair Freedom's temple rise—from sea to sea our land invest!
Its flashing dome shall climb the skies, and there the rolling stars arrest;
'Neath its broad door shall nations throng, and low their golden tributes pour;
There God's Republic, saved and strong, shall wisely rule for evermore.
Its flashing dome shall climb the skies, and there the rolling stars arrest;
'Neath its broad door shall nations throng, and low their golden tributes pour;
There God's Republic, saved and strong, shall wisely rule for evermore.