| |
| LITTLE the present careth for the past, | |
| Too little,—’t is not well! | |
| For careless ones we dwell | |
| Beneath the mighty shadow it has cast. | |
| |
| Its blessings are around our daily path, | 5 |
| We share its mighty spoil, | |
| We live on its great toil, | |
| And yet how little gratitude it hath. | |
| |
| Look on these temples, they were as a shrine | |
| From whence to the far north | 10 |
| The human mind went forth, | |
| The moral sunshine of a world divine,— | |
| |
| The light that is of heaven shone there the first, | |
| The elements of art, | |
| Mankind’s diviner part; | 15 |
| There was young Science in its cradle nurst. | |
| |
| That inward world which maketh of our clay | |
| Its temporary home; | |
| From whence those lightnings come, | |
| That kindle from a far and better day. | 20 |
| |
| Mighty the legacies by mind bequeathed, | |
| For glorious were its pains | |
| Amid those giant fanes, | |
| And mighty were the triumphs it achieved. | |
| |
| A woman’s triumph mid them is imprest, 1 | 25 |
| One who upon the scroll | |
| Flung the creative soul | |
| Disdainful of life’s flowers and of its rest. | |
| |
| Vast was the labor, vast the enterprise, | |
| For she was of a race | 30 |
| Born to the lowest place, | |
| Earth insects, lacking wings whereon to rise. | |
| |
| How must that youthful cheek have lost its bloom, | |
| How many a dream above | |
| Of early hope and love, | 35 |
| Must that young heart have closed on like a tomb! | |
| |
| Such throw life’s flowers behind them, and aspire | |
| To ask the stars their lore, | |
| And from each ancient store | |
| Seek food to stay the mind’s consuming fire. | 40 |
| |
| Her triumph was complete and long; the chords | |
| She struck are yet alive; | |
| Not vainly did she strive | |
| To leave her soul immortal on her words. | |
| |
| A great example she has left behind, | 45 |
| A lesson we should take, | |
| Whose first task is to make | |
| The general wish to benefit our kind. | |
| |
| Our sword has swept o’er India; there remains | |
| A nobler conquest far, | 50 |
| The mind’s ethereal war, | |
| That but subdues to civilize its plains. | |
| |
| Let us pay back the past the debt we owe, | |
| Let us around dispense | |
| Light, hope, intelligence, | 55 |
| Till blessings track our steps where’er we go. | |
| |
| O England! thine be the deliverer’s need, | |
| Be thy great empire known | |
| By hearts made all thine own | |
| By thy free laws and thy immortal creed. | 60 |
