OMAR IN HEAVEN. Ah, sweet the prospect of a bliss pursued, Or else to-morrow we shall count its cost. We slay the white swan for his peerless plume,- What though the damsel struggle from my arm? Only one game is ever worth dispute, Well won with ardors of an anxious day,- I envy Earth its secret, stolen bliss, Its fond embraces, half withheld, then given, Its lover's quarrels, crushed beneath a kiss, Its fond farewells, that make a hell seem heaven. I love the world,—its spice of doubts and fears, OMAR IN HEAVEN. I beg the Prophet from his judgment seat OPPORTUNITY. They do me wrong who say I come no more For every day I stand outside your door, Wail not for precious chances past away, Laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped, To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb; My judgments seal the dead past with its dead, But never bind a moment yet to come. Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep; Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast? Art thou a mourner? Art thou a sinner? Rouse thee from thy spell; Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell, THE CAPTURED BATTLESHIP. In days long past no happier ship than I Flung forth her empire's banner to the breeze; No bolder bark withstood a stormy sky, With fiercer ardor fought the foaming seas. But then at last a day of evil came On which we met the onslaught of the foe. My hull was splintered by their bursting shells, As red flames through the black smoke waved and whirled. I saw my gunners fall beside their guns, I saw my captain, sword in hand, drop dead; Shot after shot struck down my splendid sons, And splashed my bosom with a frightful red. Ah, could I then have foundered in the flood, To endless honor in an ocean grave! THE CAPTURED BATTLESHIP. But no, they took me to their far-off shore, So, like a Judas, I must sail the sea, Around me ocean-in my heart a hell! And since that time, when days of peace have come, Ah, how they spurn me as they spurn the scum, Sometimes at dusk I hear my sailors call, And see their hands up-beckoning from the deep; "Oh, come!" they tell me, "show them after all, Your faith, your honor, you will die to keep!" God grant some night an awful storm shall rise, Then I should shout above their last wild yell, |