John Greenleaf Whittier - To John C. Freemont
P
PoemHunter.com
2 Views • Nov 10, 2014
Description
THY error, Frémont, simply was to act
A brave man's part, without the statesman's tact,
And, taking counsel but of common sense,
To strike at cause as well as consequence.
Oh, never yet since Roland wound his horn
At Roncesvalles, has a blast been blown
Far-heard, wide-echoed, startling as thine own,
Heard from the van of freedom's hope forlorn!
It had been safer, doubtless, for the time,
To flatter treason, and avoid offence
To that Dark Power whose underlying crime
Heaves upward its perpetual turbulence.
But if thine be the fate of all who break
The ground for truth's seed, or forerun their years
Till lost in distance, or with stout hearts make
A lane for freedom through the level spears,
Still take thou courage! God has spoken through thee,
Irrevocable, the mighty words, Be free!
The land shakes with them, and the slave's dull ear
Turns from the rice-swamp stealthily to hear.
Who would recall them now must first arrest
The winds that blow down from the free Northwest,
Ruffling the Gulf; or like a scroll roll back
The Mississippi to its upper springs.
Such words fulfil their prophecy, and lack
But the full time to harden into things.
John Greenleaf Whittier
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-john-c-freemont/
A brave man's part, without the statesman's tact,
And, taking counsel but of common sense,
To strike at cause as well as consequence.
Oh, never yet since Roland wound his horn
At Roncesvalles, has a blast been blown
Far-heard, wide-echoed, startling as thine own,
Heard from the van of freedom's hope forlorn!
It had been safer, doubtless, for the time,
To flatter treason, and avoid offence
To that Dark Power whose underlying crime
Heaves upward its perpetual turbulence.
But if thine be the fate of all who break
The ground for truth's seed, or forerun their years
Till lost in distance, or with stout hearts make
A lane for freedom through the level spears,
Still take thou courage! God has spoken through thee,
Irrevocable, the mighty words, Be free!
The land shakes with them, and the slave's dull ear
Turns from the rice-swamp stealthily to hear.
Who would recall them now must first arrest
The winds that blow down from the free Northwest,
Ruffling the Gulf; or like a scroll roll back
The Mississippi to its upper springs.
Such words fulfil their prophecy, and lack
But the full time to harden into things.
John Greenleaf Whittier
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-john-c-freemont/
Keywords & Tags
More from User
00:48
Laxmy Alvarado - Sunlight
PoemHunter.com
00:48
Laxmy Alvarado - Sunlight
PoemHunter.com
00:34
Fatima Alzhara Rafa - Wholeness
PoemHunter.com
00:34
Fatima Alzhara Rafa - Wholeness
PoemHunter.com
01:27
Kaziah K - Eight Months Later
PoemHunter.com
01:27
Kaziah K - Eight Months Later
PoemHunter.com
Related Videos
00:58
John Greenleaf Whittier - Response
PoemHunter.com
01:43
John Greenleaf Whittier - Garden
PoemHunter.com
00:57
John Greenleaf Whittier - Utterance
PoemHunter.com
01:40
John Greenleaf Whittier - The Rendition
PoemHunter.com
02:01
John Greenleaf Whittier - A Mystery
PoemHunter.com
01:57
John Greenleaf Whittier - After Election
PoemHunter.com