His tongue was touched with sacred fire,
He could not rest, he must speak out,
When Liberty lay stabbed, and doubt
Stalked through the night in vestments dire,—
When slaves uplifted manacled hands,
Praying in agony and despair,
And answer came not anywhere,
But gloom through all the stricken lands,—
His voice for...
Each of us is like Balboa: once in all our lives do we,
Gazing from some tropic summit, look upon an unknown sea;
But upon the dreary morrow, every way our footsteps seek,
Rank and tangled vine and jungle block our pathway to the peak.
Weary, weary, desolate,
Sand-swept, parched, and cursed of fate;
Burning, but how passionless!
Barren, bald, and pitiless!
Through all ages baleful moons
Glared upon thy whited dunes;
And malignant, wrathful suns
Fiercely drank thy streamless runs;
So that Nature’s only tune
Is the blare of the simoon,
...
His tongue was touched with sacred fire,
He could not rest, he must speak out,
When Liberty lay stabbed, and doubt
Stalked through the night in vestments dire,—
When slaves uplifted manacled hands,
Praying in agony and despair,
And answer came not anywhere,
But gloom through all the stricken lands,—
His voice for...
