Classic Poem

A HAWTHORN bough in full and snowy bloom;
Strange birds that flitted ever by the ship;
Built on a broken branch, a little nest
Upon whose eggs brooded the parent bird;
Things unfamiliar floating on the tide —
All these to great Columbus gave the sign
Of the new land he was about to touch.
Such sights are manifold with thee, my soul!
Such hints are breaking on thine eager eye.
Strange fancies brood or else go winging past;
Fresh forms and growths of Nature's life appear;
Things old as time, yet to the old world, new;
The new expressions of accustomed thought.
Thou art already on a new world's verge,
That mighty world is Genius — ah! but know
Thou canst expect no better fate than his
Who found that other! poverty, neglect,
Follow the fate of him who finds a world,
Whether it be of matter or of thought.
Not now, not here, will be thy claim allowed,
But long years hence when thou hast left thy clay,
And all thy shackles moulder with its dust.
Then shall men know the greatness of thy work,
The littleness of those that lived with thee.
Through mortal hurts, immortal glories come, —
Push on to kneel upon thy new-found shore,
And take possession in thy Sovereign's name!