Classic Poem

Far o'er the sea, my greetings! speed your flight
Like storm-birds! On the Alleghanies light,
Whence, nestling in the vale, ye may behold
The house that doth mine own true love enfold.

The good old planter's house, so spruce and clean,
Before whose door, upon a bank of green,
Together once we sate, I braiding there
A wreath of wild-wood flowers to deck her hair.

On the old patriarch's lap her head was laid,
Whose silver hair upon her ringlets played,
As if upon a grain-field's waving gold
A waterfall in foaming whiteness rolled.

How gleamed her eyes, like suns in heavenly blue,
Above her rose-cheeks gemmed with pearly dew!
The old man's eyes, of guards a watchful pair,
To shield from harm the roses slumbering there!

Far swept my eyes, like eagles, to behold
Rose-meadows, fountains, fields of waving gold;
Yet evermore, again, as eagles do,
To the twin-suns, unresting, back they flew!

Then said my fairest: Tell me now, said she,
What sort of thing, perchance, a crown may be?
So bad as I have heard thee, Father, say?
So fair as I have heard thee, Love, portray?

The old man said: Time was when, o'er our land,
We saw the crown, a baleful comet, stand;
The pastures withered, black frost singed the grain,
The worst of horrors was the comet's train!

Said I: The heavens do wear the sun as crown;
See from his throne what glory streameth down!
Oh, see how rich the world, his subject, dwells!
In foliage, fruit and flower what blessing swells!

Said he: Then rose another giants' fight!
And Pelion crashed again on Ossa's height!
Bold heaven-stormer, with his fife and drum,
See Jonathan, the Yankee giant, come!

Said I: What groups of kingly mountains there,
All crowned with sun-gold their dark forest-hair!
See here, how, foliage-crowned, the cedars tower,
For crowns are aye the heritage of power!

Said he: The hero grasped the curse's queue,
Huzza! and on the field the scarecrow threw;
It flew to splinters, how the echoes crashed!
Against my skull, alas! one splinter dashed!

Said I: How gleams, in rich refulgence dight,
The moon, as queenly diadem of night!
The rose beneath a crown is bending, see!
For crowns are beauty's prize of victory.

Said he: The land is free! Yet oft the pain
Of this old scar brings back the crown again,
The crown that, now, across the distant sea
Blooms on, to us a strange, outlandish tree!

Said I: See here, with blossoms loaded down,
The tulip tree, behung with many a crown;
It looks a royal infant's Christmas tree,
For crowns the gifts of love will ever be!

Said he: The people's lofty soul shall stand,
A clear, autumnal sunshine on the land,
And sweep from many a shaft that proudly towers
The lingering crowns, like summer's faded flowers!

Said I: And Love shall come like Spring, and then,
The flowers from winter-sleep shall wake again,
To every trunk she'll bring the bloom of yore,
To loveliness and strength their crowns restore! —

As thus we spake, behold, my darling's head
That flowery crown full long had garlanded,
The cursed crown , 'gainst which my father strove,
The blessed crown , which I, the lover, wove!

Still the old wound its painful memory brands!
Yet there, before the gray-haired rebel, stands
His daughter, crowned as queen, to take from me
A faithful subject's vow of loyalty.