Albert Pike Poems

The Ancient Wrong rules many a land, whose groans
Rise swarming to the stars by day and night,
Thronging with mournful clamour round the thrones
Where the Archangels sit in God's great light,
And, pitying, mourn to see that Wrong still reigns,
And tortured Nations writhe in galling chains.
...

When Autumn's chilly winds complain
And red leaves withered fall,
We know that Spring will laugh again,
And leaf and flower recall.
...

I.
Kind Comforter of all the weary Gods,
With drooping eyelids, head that ever nods!
Thou silent soother, that with all thy train
...

PRINTEMPS.
SWEET SPRING stands blushing 'mid the flowers,
Heralded by benignant showers,
And soft airs through the young leaves sighing
...

The light of morning now begins to thrill
Upon the purple mountains, and the gray
Mist-robed old pines. Brightly upon the still
Deep banks of snow looks out the eye of Day;—
...

Wake! children of France! shall your tyrant forever
Enslave and enchain you, and trample you down?
Do you fear the sharp fetters that gall you to sever,
And tear from the brow of the despot his crown?
...

THE SEA, THE SEA!
It rings as loud, it rolls as free,
As brightly flashes on this shore,
As where the deep, grave, calm vibration,
From its great heart's green, gushing core,
Washes the footprints of a nation
Of freemen, on New England's shore.
...

Farewell to thee, New England!
Farewell to thee and thine!
Good-bye to leafy Newbury,
And Rowley's hills of pine!
...

Like the young moon,
When, on the sunlit limits of the night,
Her white sheen trembles amid crimson air,
...

I.
Above me snows and ice-crags, and around
The Cordilleras towering, grand and stern;—
Near me a stream over the black rocks bounding,
...