The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1890-01-11
BURNING DRIFT WOOD.

Before my driit-woOd fire sit,
And see, with every waif1 burn
Old dreams and iancies eoloring It,
And iOlly's unlaid ghosts return.
o ships Of mine, whose swift keels cleft
The enchanted sea on which they sailed,
Are those poor fragments only left
OF vain desires and hopes that failed?
Did not watch from them the light
OF sunset on my towers in Spain,
And see. far oil, uploom in sight
The Happy Isles l might not gain?
Did sudden lit Of fog reveal
Arcadia's wales of song and spring,
And did | pass with grazing keel,
The rocks whereon the sirens sing?
Have l not dli!ted hard upon
The unmapped regions lost to man,
Tie cloud pitched tents Of Prester John,
The Palace dOmes of kubia Khan?
bid land winds blow from jasmin flowers,
Where Youth the ageless Fountain fills?
Did Love make sign from rose blown bowers,
And gold from Eldorado's hills?
Alas! the gallant ships, that sailed
On blind Adventures errand sent,
Howe'er they laid their courses, failed
To reace the haven of Content.
And of my ventures, those alone
Which Love had freghted, sa fely sped,
Seeking 4 good beyond By own,
BY clear-eyed Duty piIoted,
mariners, hoping still to meet
The luck Arabian voyagers met,
And find in Bagdad's moonlt street
Aaroun al Raschd walking yet.
Take with you, on your Sea OF Dreams.
The fair, fond fancieS dear to youth.
turn from all that only seems,
And seek the sober grounds OF truth.
What matter that it is not May,
That birds have flown, and trees are bare,
That darker grows the shortening day,
And colder blows the wintry air.
The wrecks of passion and desire,
The castles l no more rebuild,
May htly feed my drift-wood fire,
And warm the hands that age has chilled.
Whatever periShed with my ships,
l only know the best remains;
i song oi praise is on my lips
For losses which are now my gains.
Heap high my hearth! No worth is lost;
no wisdom with the folly dies.
Burn on. poor shreds, your holocaust
Shall be my evening sacrifice!
Far more than all dared to dream,
Unsought before my door l see;
On wings of tire and steeds OF steam
the worlds great won ers come to me.
And hOlier signs, unmarked before,
GfIove to seek and Power to save
The righting of the wronged and poor,
The man evolving from the slave.
And life, no longer chance or fate,
Safe in the gracious Fatherhood,
fold o'er-wearied hands and wait
In calm assurance OF the good.
And well the waiting time must be,
Tho brief or long its granted days,
Ii Faith and Hope and Charity
Sit by my evening hearth-fire's blaze.
And with them. friends whom Heaven ha,
spared,
Whose love my heart has cOmiOrted,
And, sharing all my joys, has shared
My tender memories OF the dead
Dear souls who left us lonely here.
Bound on their last, long voyage, to whom
We, day by day, are drawing near,
Where every bark has sailing ROOM
know the solemn monotone
OF waters calling unto me.
know from whence the airs have blown
That whisper OF the Eternal Sea.
AS low my fires OF drift-wood burn,
hear that seas deep sounds increase,
And, r in sunset light, discern
Itst <ge-Iitted Isles of Peace.
~ziJNINri.in in The Independent.
y "s o. A.a1o. iez-one boo,
~ Getty, Adams, Benno..s, Bucks
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