The Portland daily press., 1862-08-04
POE T r Y.
From the Atlantic Monthly for August.l
In War Time.
INSCRIBED TO W. b.
BY JOHN @. WHITTIER,

o.
Az thew who watch by sick beds find relief
Unwitfingly from the great stress of grief
And anxious care in fantasies outwrought
From the hearth's embers Pickering low, caught
From whispering wind or tread of passing feet,
Or vagrant memory calling up some sweet
Snatch of old song or romance, whence or why
They scarcely know ssk--so, thou and i,
Nursed in the faith that Truth alone is strong
In the endurance which outwearies Wrong,
With meek persistence battling brutal force,
And trusting God against the universe
We. doomed to watch strife we may not share
The awful beauty of selfsacrifce,
And wrung by keenest sympathy for all
Who give their loved ones for the living wall
'Twixt law and treason-in this evil day
May haply find, through automatic play
OF pen and pencil, solace 10 our pain,
And hearten others with the strength we gain.
know 1t has been said our times require
No play of art, nor dalliance with the Tyre,
No easy essay with Fancys choroform
To calm the hot, mad pulses of the storm,
But the stern war-bast rather, such as sets
The battles teeth of serried bayonets,
And pictures grim as Nernet's. Yet with these
Some softer tints may blend, and milder keys
Relieve the storm-stunned ear. Let us keep sweet,
If so may, our hearts, even while we eat
The bitter harvest of our own device
And half a century's moral cowardice:
As Nurnburg sang while Wittenberg dehed,
And kranach painted by his Luthers side,
And through the war-march of the Puritan
The silver stream of Maryel's music ran,
So let the household melodies be sung,
The pleasant pictures on the walls be hung
So let us hold against the hosts of Night
And Slavery all our vantage ground of Light
Let Treason boast its savagery, and shake
From its flag folds its symbol rattlesnake,
Nurse its fine arts, lay human skins in tan,
And carve its pipe-bowls from the bones of man,
And make the tale of Fijian banquets dull
BY drinking whiskey from a loyal skull
But let MS guard, till this sad war shall cease,
tGod grant it soon y the graceful arts of peace;
No foes conquered who the victors teach
Their vandal manners and barbaric speech.
And while, with hearts of thankfnlness, we bear
OF the great common burden our full share,
Let none upbraid us that the waves entice
Thy sea-dipped pencil, or some quaint device,
Rhythmic and sweet, beguiles my pen away
From the sharp strifes and sorrows of to-day.
Thus while the east-wind keen from Labrador
Sings in the leaf1ess elms, and from the shore
OF the great sea comes the mountainous roar
OF the long breaking surf, and all the sky
Is gray with cloud, home-b bound and duh, try
To time simple legend to the sounds
OF winds in the woods, and waves on pebbled bounds
A song of breeze snd billow, such as might
Be snng by tired painters, who at night
Look from their hemlock camps, by quiet cove
Or beach, moon-lighted, on the waves they love.
$50 hast thou looked, when level sunset lay
On calm bosom of some Eastern bay
And all the spraymost rocks and waves that rolled
Up the white sand-slopes flashed with ruddy gold.)
Something II hasa favor of the sea,
And seas freedom--which reminds of thee.
Its faded picture, dimly smiling down
From the blurred fresco of the ancient town,
have not touched with warmer tints in vain,
IT. in this dark sad year, it steals thought from
pain.