TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. Through all the long, drear night of years The people's cry ascendeth, And earth is wet with blood and tears, But our meek suffering endeth! The few shall not forever sway, The many toil in sorrow: The Powers of hell are strong to-day, Though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes For lo! our day bursts up the skies— The world rolls Freedom's radiant way, Keep heart! who bear the cross to-day O, Youth, flame-earnest, still aspire Our yearning opes a portal! And though Age wearies by the way, Build up heroic lives, and all Be like the sheathen saber, Ready to flash out at God's call O! Chivalry of labor! Triumph and Toil are twins-and aye Joy suns the cloud of sorrow; And 't is the martyrdom to-day GERALD MASSEY. 225 D The Present. O not crouch to-day, and worship The old Past whose life is fled: See, the shadows of his heroes What he promised, she shall do. She inherits all his treasures, Coward, can she reign and conquer Let us fight for her as nobly ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. IS IT COME? Is Is it Come? S it come? they said, on the banks of the Nile, With the desert's sand and the granite gray. The Chaldee came with his starry lore, And built up Babylon's crown and creed; And bricks were stamped on the Tigris' shore With signs which our sages scarce can read. From Ninus' temple and Nimrod's tower, The rule of the old East's empire spread Unreasoning faith and unquestioned powerBut still, Is it come? the watcher said. The light of the Persian's worshiped flame When Greece to her freedom's trust was true: With human gods, and with god-like men, No marvel the far-off day seemed near To eyes that looked through her laurels then. The Romans conquered and reveled too, 227 Poet and seer that question caught, Above the din of life's fears and frets; It marched with letters, it toiled with thought, Through schools and creeds which the earth forgets. And statesmen trifle, and priests deceive, And traders barter our world away— Yet hearts to that golden promise cleave, The days of the nations bear no trace FRANCES BROWN. A Song for the New Year (1867). HE sea sings the song of the ages; THE The mountain stands mutely sublime; While the blank of Eternity's pages Is filled by the fingers of Time. He rendeth the mountain asunder, And rolleth his wheels through its core ; He scanneth the heavens at pleasure, But purpose is weaker than passion, A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR. 229 He pursueth the phantom of beauty, Or peddleth his valor for pelf;— Till the iron of merciless duty Has crashed through the armor of self. He soweth the life of his brother; He wasteth the half of his soul;The harvest is reaped by another, And Death dippeth deep for his toll. So the march of triumphal procession, Yet a year does not slide o'er the border If the blood that was weaker than water That promiseth joyous increase, |