Poems by John Hay Part 11
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When the Boys Come Home
There's a happy time coming, When the boys come home.
There's a glorious day coming, When the boys come home.
We will end the dreadful story Of this treason dark and gory In a sunburst of glory, When the boys come home.
The day will seem brighter When the boys come home, For our hearts will be lighter When the boys come home.
Wives and sweethearts will press them In their arms and caress them, And pray G.o.d to bless them, When the boys come home.
The thinned ranks will be proudest When the boys come home, And their cheer will ring the loudest When the boys come home.
The full ranks will be shattered, And the bright arms will be battered, And the battle-standards tattered, When the boys come home.
Their bayonets may be rusty, When the boys come home, And their uniforms dusty, When the boys come home.
But all shall see the traces Of battle's royal graces, In the brown and bearded faces, When the boys come home.
Our love shall go to meet them, When the boys come home, To bless them and to greet them, When the boys come home; And the fame of their endeavor Time and change shall not dissever From the nation's heart forever, When the boys come home.
Lese-Amour
How well my heart remembers Beside these camp-fire embers The eyes that smiled so far away,-- The joy that was November's.
Her voice to laughter moving, So merrily reproving,-- We wandered through the autumn woods, And neither thought of loving.
The hills with light were glowing, The waves in joy were flowing,-- It was not to the clouded sun The day's delight was owing.
Though through the brown leaves straying, Our lives seemed gone a-Maying; We knew not Love was with us there, No look nor tone betraying.
How unbelief still misses The best of being's blisses!
Our parting saw the first and last Of love's imagined kisses.
Now 'mid these scenes the drearest I dream of her, the dearest,-- Whose eyes outs.h.i.+ne the Southern stars, So far, and yet the nearest.
And Love, so gayly taunted, Who died, no welcome granted, Comes to me now, a pallid ghost, By whom my life is haunted.
With bonds I may not sever, He binds my heart forever, And leads me where we murdered him,-- The Hill beside the River.
CAMP SHAW, FLORIDA, February, 1864.
Northward
Under the high unclouded sun That makes the s.h.i.+p and shadow one, I sail away as from the fort Booms sullenly the noonday gun.
The odorous airs blow thin and fine, The sparkling waves like emeralds s.h.i.+ne, The l.u.s.tre of the coral reefs Gleams whitely through the tepid brine.
And glitters o'er the liquid miles The jewelled ring of verdant isles, Where generous Nature holds her court Of ripened bloom and sunny smiles.
Encinctured by the faithful seas Inviolate gardens load the breeze, Where flaunt like giant-warders' plumes The pennants of the cocoa-trees.
Enthroned in light and bathed in balm, In lonely majesty the Palm Blesses the isles with waving hands,-- High-Priest of the eternal Calm.
Yet Northward with an equal mind I steer my course, and leave behind The rapture of the Southern skies,-- The wooing of the Southern wind.
For here o'er Nature's wanton bloom Falls far and near the shade of gloom, Cast from the hovering vulture-wings Of one dark thought of woe and doom.
I know that in the snow-white pines The brave Norse fire of freedom s.h.i.+nes, And fain for this I leave the land Where endless summer pranks the vines.
O strong, free North, so wise and brave!
O South, too lovely for a slave!
Why read ye not the changeless truth,-- The free can conquer but to save?
May G.o.d upon these s.h.i.+ning sands Send Love and Victory clasping hands, And Freedom's banners wave in peace Forever o'er the rescued lands!
And here, in that triumphant hour, Shall yielding Beauty wed with Power; And blus.h.i.+ng earth and smiling sea In dalliance deck the bridal bower.
KEY WEST, 1864.
In the Firelight
My dear wife sits beside the fire With folded hands and dreaming eyes, Watching the restless flames aspire, And wrapped in thralling memories.
I mark the fitful firelight fling Its warm caresses on her brow, And kiss her hands' unmelting snow, And glisten on her wedding-ring.
The proud free head that crowns so well The neck superb, whose outlines glide Into the bosom's perfect swell Soft-billowed by its peaceful tide, The cheek's faint flush, the lip's red glow, The gracious charm her beauty wears, Fill my fond eyes with tender tears As in the days of long ago.
Days long ago, when in her eyes The only heaven I cared for lay, When from our thoughtless Paradise All care and toil dwelt far away; When Hope in wayward fancies throve, And rioted in secret sweets, Beguiled by Pa.s.sion's dear deceits,-- The mysteries of maiden love.
One year had pa.s.sed since first my sight Was gladdened by her girlish charms, When on a rapturous summer night I clasped her in possessing arms.
And now ten years have rolled away, And left such blessings as their dower, I owe her tenfold at this hour The love that lit our wedding-day.
For now, vague-hovering o'er her form, My fancy sees, by love refined, A warmer and a dearer charm By wedlock's mystic hands intwined,-- golden coil of wifely cares That years have forged, the loving joy That guards the curly-headed boy Asleep an hour ago up stairs.
A fair young mother, pure as fair, A matron heart and virgin soul!
The flickering light that crowns her hair Seems like a saintly aureole.
A tender sense upon me falls That joy unmerited is mine, And in this pleasant twilight s.h.i.+ne My perfect bliss myself appalls.
Come back! my darling, strayed so far Into the realm of fantasy,-- Let thy dear face s.h.i.+ne like a star In love-light beaming over me.
My melting soul is jealous, sweet, Of thy long silence' drear eclipse, O kiss me back with living lips To life, love, lying at thy feet!
Poems by John Hay Part 11
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