THE day's sharp strife is ended now, Our work is done, God knoweth how! As on the thronged, unrestful town The patience of the moon looks down, I wait to hear, beside the wire, The voices of its tongues of fire. Slow, doubtful, faint, they seem at first: Be strong, my heart, to know the worst! Hark! there the Alleghanies spoke; That sound from lake and prairie broke, That sunset-gun of triumph rent The silence of a continent! That signal from Nebraska sprung, This from Nevada's mountain tongue! Is that thy answer, strong and free, O loyal heart of Tennessee? What strange, glad voice is that which calls From Wagner's grave and Sumter's walls? From Mississippi's fountain-head A sound as of the bison's tread! There rustled freedom's Charter Oak! In that wild burst the Ozarks spoke! Cheer answers cheer from rise to set Of sun. We have a country yet! The praise, O God, be thine alone! Thou givest not for bread a stone; Thou hast not led us through the night To blind us with returning light; Not through the furnace have we passed, To perish at its mouth at last. O night of peace, thy flight restrain! November's moon, be slow to wane! Shine on the freedman's cabin floor, On brows of prayer a blessing pour; And give, with full assurance blest, The weary heart of Freedom rest! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OVERNIGHT, A ROSE by CAROLINE GILTINAN ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD WEST by THOMAS GRAY SONNET TO A NEGRO IN HARLEM by HELENE JOHNSON AT LAST by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER IN THE DEEP WHITE SNOW by ANNE ATWOOD POST MORTEM by GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER |