George Pope Morris Poems

Our Order, like the ark of yore,
Upon the raging sea was tossed;
Secure amid the billow's roar,
It moved, and nothing has been lost.
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The wind-harp has music it moans to the tree,
And so has the shell that complains to the sea,
The lark that sings merrily over the lea,
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My bark is out upon the sea--
The moon's above;
Her light a presence seems to me
Like woman's love.
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My lady waits!--'Tis now the hour
When morn unbars her gates!--
My vessel glides beneath the tower
Where now my lady waits.
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THIS book is all that ’s left me now!
Tears will unbidden start,—
With faltering lip and throbbing brow
I press it to my heart.
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Here upon the mountain-side
Till now we met together;
Here I won my woodland bride,
In flush of summer weather.
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Freedom spreads her downy wings
Over all created things;
Glory to the King of kings,
Bend low to Him the knee!
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When winter's cold and summer's heat
Shall come and go again,
A hundred years will be complete
Since Marion crossed the main,
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I'm with you once again, my friends,
No more my footsteps roam;
Where it began my journey ends,
Amid the scenes of home.
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He died, as he had lived, beloved,
Without an enemy on earth;
In word and deed he breathed and moved
The soul of honor and of worth:
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