George Pope Morris

The morning is breaking--
    The stag is away!
The hounds and the hunters
    The signal obey!
The horn bids the echoes
    Awake as we go,
And nature is jocund
    With hark!--tally-ho!
            Hark away!
                Tally-ho!

Hark forward!--Tantivy!--
    The woodland resounds
With shouts of the sportsmen
    To cheer on the hounds!
The horse and his rider,
    The deer and his foe,
Dash by to the music
    Of hark!--tally-ho!
            (He's at bay!)
                Tally-ho!

The star of love now shines above,
    Cool zephyrs crisp the sea;
Among the leaves the wind-harp weaves
    Its serenade for thee.
The star, the breeze, the wave, the trees,
    Their minstrelsy unite,
But all are drear till thou appear
    To decorate the night.

The light of noon streams from the moon,
    Though with a milder ray
O'er hill and grove, like woman's love,
    It cheers us on our way.
Thus all that's bright--the moon, the night,
    The heavens, the earth, the sea,
Exert their powers to bless the hours
    We dedicate to thee.

Wealth sought the bower of Beauty,
Dressed like a modern beau:
Just then Love, Health, and Duty
Took up their hats to go.
Wealth such a cordial welcome met,
As made the others grieve;
So Duty shunned the gay coquette,
Love, pouting, took French leave--
                He did!
Love, pouting, took French leave!

Old Time, the friend of Duty,
Next called to see the fair;
He laid his hand on Beauty,
And left her in despair
Wealth vanished!--Last went rosy Health--
And she was doomed to prove
That those who Duty slight for Wealth,
Can never hope for Love!
                Ah, no!
Can never hope for Love!

Through the streets of New York City,
        Blithely every morn,
I carolled o'er my artless ditty,
        Cheerly though forlorn!
Before the rosy light, my lay
        Was to the maids begun,
Ere winters snows had passed away,
        Or smiled the summer sun.
                CAROL--O--a--y--e--o!

In summer months I'd fondly woo
        Those merry, dark-eyed girls,
With faces of ebon hue,
        And teeth like eastern pearls!
One vowed my love she would repay--
        Her heart my song had won--
When winter snows had passed away,
        And smiled the summer sun.
                CAROL--O--a--y--e--o!

A year, alas! had scarcely flown--
        Hope beamed but to deceive--
Ere I was left to weep alone,
        From mor...

The sword of the hero!
    The staff of the sage!
Whose valor and wisdom
    Are stamped on the age!
Time-hallowed mementos
    Of those who have riven
The sceptre from tyrants,
    "The lightning from heaven!"

This weapon, O Freedom!
    Was drawn by the son,
And it never was sheathed
    Till the battle was won!
No stain of dishonor
    Upon it we see!
'Twas never surrendered--
    Except to the free!

While Fame claims the hero
    And patriot sage,
Their names to emblazon
    On History's page,
No holier relics
    Will liberty hoard
Than FRANKLIN's staff, guarded
    By WASHINGTON's sword.

I knew a sweet girl, with a bonny blue eye,
    Who was born in the shade
    The wild sycamore made,
    Where the brook sang its song
    All the summer-day long,
And the moments went merrily by,
Like the birdlings the moments flew by.

I knew a fair maid, soul-enchanting in grace,
    Who replied to my vow,
    'Neath the sycamore bough,
    "Like the brook to the sea,
    Oh, I yearn, love, for thee!"
And she hid in my bosom her face--
In my bosom, her beautiful face.

I have a dear wife, who is ever my guide!
    Wooed and won in the shade
    The wild sycamore made,
    Where the brook sings it song
    All the summer-day long,
And the moments in harmony glide,
Like our lives they in harmony glide.

The heart that owns thy tyrant sway,
    Whate'er its hopes may be,
Is like a bark that drifts away
    Upon a shoreless sea!
No compass left to guide her on,
Upon the surge she's tempest-torn--
    And such is life to me!

And what is life when love is fled?
    The world, unshared by thee?
I'd rather slumber with the dead,
    Than such a waif to be!
The bark that by no compass steers
Is lost, which way soe'er she veers--
    And such is life to me!

To meet, and part, as we have met and parted,
    One moment cherished and the next forgot,
To wear a smile when almost broken-hearted,
    I know full well is hapless woman's lot;
Yet let me, to thy tenderness appealing,
    Avert this brief but melancholy doom--
Content that close beside the thorn of feeling,
    Grows memory, like a rose, in guarded bloom.

Love's history, dearest, is a sad one ever,
    Yet often with a smile I've heard it told!
Oh, there are records of the heart which never
    Are to the scrutinizing gaze unrolled!
My eyes to thine may scarce again aspire--
    Still in thy memory, dearest let me dwell,
And hush, with this hope, the magnetic wire,
    Wild with our mingled welcome and farewell!

"The plaint of the wailing Whip-poor-will,
    Who mourns unseen and ceaseless sings
Ever a note of wail and wo,
    Till Morning spreads her rosy wings,
And earth and sky in her glances glow."

                                J. R. Drake.


Why dost thou come at set of sun,
Those pensive words to say?
Why whip poor Will?--What has he done?
And who is Will, I pray?

Why come from yon leaf-shaded hill,
A suppliant at my door?--
Why ask of me to whip poor Will?
And is Will really poor?

If poverty's his crime, let mirth
From his heart be driven:
That is the deadliest sin on earth,
And never is forgiven!

Art Will himself?--It must be so--
I learn it from thy moan,
For none can feel another's wo
As deeply as ...

Thou hast woven the spell that hath bound me,
    Through all the sad changes of years;
And the smiles that I wore when I found thee,
    Have faded and melted in tears!
Like the poor, wounded fawn from the mountain,
    That seeks out the clear silver tide,
I have lingered in vain at the fountain
    Of hope--with a shaft in my side!

Thou hast taught me that Love's rosy fetters
    A pang from the thorns may impart;
That the coinage of vows and of letters
    Comes not from the mint of the heart.
Like the lone bird that flutters her pinion,
    And warbles in bondage her strain,
I have struggled to fly thy domain,
    But find that the struggle is vain!

Searcher of Hearts!--from mine erase
    All thoughts that should not be,
And in its deep recesses trace
    My gratitude to Thee!

Hearer of Prayer!--oh, guide aright
    Each word and deed of mine;
Life's battle teach me how to fight,
    And be the victory Thine.

Giver of All!--for every good--
    In the Redeemer came--
For raiment, shelter, and for food,
    I thank Thee in His name.

Father and Son and Holy Ghost!
    Thou glorious Three in One!
Thou knowest best what I need most,
    And let Thy will be done.

The fountains serenade the flowers,
    Upon their silver lute--
And, nestled in their leafy bowers,
    The forest-birds are mute:
The bright and glittering hosts above
    Unbar their golden gates,
While Nature holds her court of love,
    And for her client waits.
Then, lady, wake--in beauty rise!
    'Tis now the promised hour,
When torches kindle in the skies
    To light thee to thy bower.
The day we dedicate to care--
    To love the witching night;
For all that's beautiful and fair
    In hours like these unite.
E'en thus the sweets to flowerets given--
    The moonlight on the tree--
And all the bliss of earth and heaven--
    Are mingled, love, in thee.
Then, lady, wake--in beauty rise!
    'Tis now the promised hour,
Wh...

Georgie, come home!--Life's tendrils cling about thee,
    Where'er thou art, by wayward fancy led.
We miss thee, love!--Home is not home without thee--
    The light and glory of the house have fled:
The autumn shiver of the linden-tree
Is like the pang that thrills my frame for thee!

Georgie, come home!--To parents, brother, sister
    Thy place is vacant in this lonely hall,
Where shines the river through the "Jeannie Vista,"
    While twilight shadows lengthen on the wall:
Our spirits falter at the close of day,
And weary night moves tardily away.

Georgie, come home!--The winds and waves are singing
    The mournful music of their parting song,
To soul and sense the sad forboding bringing,
    Some ill detains thee in the town so long:
Oh, that...

The woods waved welcome in the breeze,
    When, many years ago,
Lured by the songs of birds and bees,
    I sought the dell below;
And there, in that secluded spot,
    Where silver streamlets roved,
Twined the green ivy round the cot
    Of her I fondly loved.

In dreams still near that porch I stand
    To listen to her vow!
Still feel the pressure of her hand
    Upon my burning brow!
And here, as in the days gone by,
    With joy I meet her yet,
And mark the love-light of her eyes,
    Fringed with its lash of jet.

O fleeting vision of the past!
    From memory glide away!
Ye were too beautiful to last,
    Too good to longer stay!
But why, attesting evening star,
    This sermon sad recall:
"THAN LOVE AND LOSE 'TI...

'Twas in the flush of summer-time,
    Some twenty years or more,
When Ernest lost his way, and crossed
    The threshold of our door.
I'll ne'er forget his locks of jet,
    His brow of Alpine snow,
His manly grace of form and face,
    Some twenty years ago.

The hand he asked I freely gave--
    Mine was a happy lot,
In all my pride to be his bride
    Within my father's cot.
The faith he spoke he never broke:
    His faithful heart I know;
And well I vow I love him now
    As twenty years ago.

This word beyond all others,
    Makes us love our country most,
Makes us feel that we are brothers,
    And a heart-united host!--
With hosanna let our banner
    From the house-tops be unfurled,
While the nation holds her station
    With the mightiest of the world!
Take your harps from silent willows,
    Shout the chorus of the free;
"States are all distinct as billows,
    Union one--as is the sea!"

From the land of groves that bore us
    He's a traitor who would swerve!
By the flag now waving o'er us
    We the compact will preserve!
Those who gained it and sustained it,
    Were unto each other true,
And the fable well is able
    To instruct us what to do!
Take your harps from silent willows,
    Shout the chorus of the ...

Song and Chorus.




Up the Hudson!--Fleetly gliding
    To our haunts among the trees!
Joy the gallant vessel guiding
    With a fresh and cheerful breeze!
Wives and dear ones yearn to meet us--
    (Hearts that love us to the core!)
And with fond expressions greet us
    As we near the welcome shore!


Chorus.


Ho! ye inland seas and islands!--
    (Echo follows where we go!)
Ho! ye headlands, hills, and highlands!
    Ho! ye Undercliffeans, ho!


Up the Hudson!--Rock and river,
    Grove and glen pronounce His praise,
Who, of every "Good the Giver,"
    Leads us through these pleasant ways!--
Care recedes like water-traces
    Of our bark, as on we glide,
Where the hand of nature graces<...

Come, come to me, love!
    Come, love!--Arise
And shame the bright stars
    With the light of thine eyes;
Look out from thy lattice--
    Oh, lady-bird, hear!
A swan on the water--
    My gondola's near!

Come, come to me, love!
    Come, love!--My bride!
O'er crystal in moonbeams
    We'll tranquilly glide:
In the dip of the oar
    A melody flows
Sweet as the nightingale
    Sings to the rose.

Come, come to me, love!
    Come, love!--The day
Brings warder and cloister!
    Away, then--away!
Oh, haste to thy lover!
    Not yon star above
Is more true to heaven
    Then he to his love!