Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/168

152 WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER. [1830-40. Despair may truer be than Hope;
 * But Hope is mightier far than he!

As rounding up yon starless cope,
 * Even now to-morrow's sun I see,

So Hope brings day before 'tis day,
 * And antedates a word, or deed,

Or thought, that shall be felt for aye,
 * And help us in our sorest need.

Ah, Hope is truer than Despair!—
 * What says the iron tongue of time.

From yon old turret high in air.
 * Pealing the centuries' march sublime?

"God gives to man another year.
 * With Hope his friend!" Bereaved one,

Uncloud the brow, dry up the tear—
 * Joy Cometh with the morrow's sun!

God!—our heart-felt thanks to Thee!
 * We feel thy presence every where;

And pray that we may ever be
 * Thus objects of thy guardian care.

We sowed!—by Thee our work was seen,
 * And blessed; and instantly went forth

Thy mandate; and in living green
 * Soon smiled the fair and fruitful earth.

We toiled!—and Thou didst note our toil;
 * And gav'st the sunshine and the rain,

Till ripened on the teeming soil
 * The fragrant grass and golden grain.

And now, we reap!—and oh, our God!
 * From this, the earth's unbounded floor.

We send our Song of Thanks abroad.
 * And pray Thee, bless our hoarded store!

When last the maple bud was swelling.
 * When last the crocus bloomed below.

Thy heart to mine its love was telling,
 * Thy soul with mine kept ebb and flow;

Again the maple bud is swelling—
 * Again the crocus blooms below—

In heaven thy heart its love is telling.
 * But still our souls keep ebb and flow.

When last the April bloom was flinging
 * Sweet odors on the air of Spring,

In forest-aisles thy voice was ringing,
 * Where thou didst with the red-bird sing;

Again the April bloom is flinging
 * Sweet odors on the air of Spring,

But now in heaven thy voice is ringing,
 * Where thou dost with the angels sing.

Broad plains—blue waters—hills and valleys.
 * That ring with anthems of the free!

Brown-pillared groves, with green-arched alleys.
 * That Freedom's holiest temples be!

These forest-aisles are full of story:—
 * Here many a one of old renown

First sought the meteor-light of glory,
 * And mid its transient flash went down.

Historic names forever greet us.
 * Where'er our wandering way we thread;

Familiar forms and faces meet us—
 * As living walk with us the dead.

Man's fame, so often evanescent,
 * Links here with thoughts and things that last;

And all the bright and teeming Present
 * Thrills with the great and glorious Past.