The Eve of Election

From gold to gray Our mild sweet day Of Indian summer fades to soon; But tenderly Above the sea Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon.

In its pale fire The village spire Shows like the zodiac's spectral lance; The painted walls Whereon it falls Transfigured stand in marble trance!

O'er fallen leaves The west-wind grieves, Yet comes a seed-time round again; And morn shall see The State sown free With baleful tares or healthful grain.

Along the street The shadows meet Of destiny, whose hands conceal The moulds of fate That shape the State And make or mar the common weal.

Around I see The powers that be; I stand by Empires's primal springs; And prices meet, In every street, And hear the tread of uncrowned kings!

Hark! through the crowd The laugh runs loud, Beneath the sad, rebuking moon. God save the land A careless hand May shake or swerve ere morrow's noon!

No jest is this; One cast amiss May blast the hope of Freedom's year Oh, take me where Are hearts of prayer, And foreheads bowed in reverent hear!

Not lightly fall Beyond recall The written scrolls a breath can float; The crowning fact The kingliest act Of Freedom, is the freeman's vote!

For pearls that gem A diadem The diver in the deep sea dies; The regal right We boast to-night Is ours through costlier sacrifice;

The blood of Vane His prison pain Who traced the path the Pilgrim trod; And hers whose faith Drew strength from death, And prayed her Russel up to God!

Our hearts grow cold, We lightly hold A right which brave men died to gain: The stake, the cord, The axe, the sword, Grim nurses at the birth of pain.

The shadow rend, And o'er us bend, O martyrs, with your crowns and palms; -- Breathe through these throngs Your battle songs, Your scaffold prayers, and dungeon psalms!

Look from the sky, Like God's great eye, Thou solemn noon, with searching beam, Till in the sight Of thy pure light Our mean self-seekings meaner seem.

Shame from our hearts Unworthy arts, The fraud designed, the purpose dark; And smite away The hands we lay Profanely on the sacred ark.

To party claims And private aims, Reveal that august face of Truth, Whereto are given The age of heaven, The beauty of immortal youth.

So shall our voice Of sovereign choice Swell the deep bass of duty done, And strike the key Of time to be, When God and man shall speak as one!