190

Of happy Atlantis, and heard Björne's
keel
Crunch the gray pebbles of the Vinland
shore :

I listened, musing, to the prophecy
Of Nero's tutor-victim; lo, the birds
Sing darkling, conscious of the climbing
dawn.

And I believed the poets; it is they
Who utter wisdom from the central deep,
And, listening to the inner flow of things,
Speak to the age out of eternity.

Ah me! old hermits sought for solitude In caves and desert places of the earth, 200 Where their own heart-beat was the only stir

Of living thing that comforted the year; But the bald pillar-top of Simeon,

In midnight's blankest waste, were populous,

Matched with the isolation drear and deep Of him who pines among the swarm of

crown.

Yet to the spirit select there is no choice; He cannot say, This will I do, or that, 221 For the cheap means putting Heaven's ends in pawn,

And bartering his bleak rocks, the freehold stern

Of destiny's first-born, for smoother fields
That yield no crop of self-denying will;
A hand is stretched to him from out the
dark,

Which grasping without question, he is led
Where there is work that he must do for
God.

The trial still is the strength's complement,

229

And the uncertain, dizzy path that scales The sheer heights of supremest purposes Is steeper to the angel than the child.

She had been with us scarce a twelvemonth,

And it hardly seemed a day, When a troop of wandering angels Stole my little daughter away; Or perhaps those heavenly Zingari But loosed the hampering strings, And when they had opened her cage-door, My little bird used her wings.

But they left in her stead a changeling,
A little angel child,

That seems like her bud in full blossom,
And smiles as she never smiled:
When I wake in the morning, I see it
Where she always used to lie,
And I feel as weak as a violet
Alone 'neath the awful sky.

30

40

SHE CAME AND WENT

As a twig trembles, which a bird
Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent,
So is my memory thrilled and stirred;-
I only know she came and went.

As clasps some lake, by gusts unriven,
The blue dome's measureless content,
So my soul held that moment's heaven;-
I only know she came and went.

As, at one bound, our swift spring heaps
The orchards full of bloom and scent, 10
So clove her May my wintry sleeps;-
I only know she came and went.

An angel stood and met my gaze,

Through the low doorway of my tent; The tent is struck, the vision stays;I only know she came and went.

THE BIGLOW PAPERS 1

FIRST SERIES

No. I

A LETTER 2

20

FROM MR. EZEKIEL BIGLOW OF JAALAM TO THE HON. JOSEPH T. BUCKINGHAM, EDITOR OF THE BOSTON COURIER, INCLOSING A POEM OF HIS SON, MR. HOSEA BIGLOW

JAYLEM, june 1846.

MISTER EDDYTER,-Our Hosea wuz down to Boston last week, and he see a cruetin Sarjunt a struttin round as popler as a hen with 1 chicking, with 2 fellers a drummin and fifin arter him like all nater. the sarjunt he thout Hosea hed n't gut his i teeth cut cos he looked a kindo 's though he'd jest com down, so he cal'lated to hook him in, but Hosy wood n't take none o' his sarse for all he hed much as 20 Rooster's tales stuck onto his hat and eenamost enuf brass a bobbin up and down on his shoulders and figureed onto his coat and trousis, let alone wut nater hed sot in his featers, to make a 6 pounder

out on.

wal, Hosea he com home considerabal riled, and arter I 'd gone to bed I heern Him a thrashin round like a short-tailed Bull in fli-time. The old Woman ses she to me. ses she, Zekle, ses she, our Hosee 's gut the chollery or suthin another ses she, don't you Bee skeered, ses I, he 's oney amakin pottery 3 ses i, he 's ollers

"I only know that I believed our war with Mexico (though we had as just ground for it as a strong nation ever has against a weak one) to be essentially a war of false pretences, and that it would result in widening the boundaries and so prolong the life of slavery. Against these and many other things I thought all honest men should protest." Lowell, in a letter to Thomas Hughes, September 13, 1859.

The act of May 13, 1846, authorized Presi dent Polk to employ the militia, and call out 50,000 volunteers, if necessary. He immediately called for the full number of volunteers, asking Massachusetts for 777 men.

Aut insanit, aut versos facit.

H. W. (H. W

is Rev. Homer Wilbur, A.M.-Parson Wilbur to whom Hosea submits his manuscripts for editing.)

on hand at that ere busynes like Da & martin, and shure enuf, cum mornin, Hosy he cum down stares full chizzle, hare on eend and cote tales flyin, and sot rite of to go reed his varses to Parson Wilbur bein he haint aney grate shows o' book larnin himself, bimeby he cum back and sed the parson wuz dreffle tickled with 'em as i hoop you will Be, and said they wuz True grit.

Hosea ses taint hardly fair to call 'em hisn now, cos the parson kind o' slicked off sum o' the last varses, but he told Hosee he did n't want to put his ore in to tetch to the Rest on 'em, bein they wuz verry well As thay wuz, and then Hosy ses he sed suthin a nuther about Simplex Mundishes or sum sech feller, but I guess Hosea kind o' did n't hear him, for I never hearn o' nobody o' that name in this villadge, and I 've lived here man and boy 76 year cum next tater diggin, and thair aint no wheres a kitting spryer 'n I be.

If you print 'em I wish you 'd jest let folks know who hosy's father is, cos my ant Kezian used to say it 's nater to be curus ses she, she aint livin though and he's a likely kind o' lad.