Hanford Lennox Gordon

The nation calls aloud again, For Freedom wounded writhes in pain. Gird on your armor, Northern men;

Float in the winds of heaven, O tattered Flag! Emblem of hope to all the misruled world: Thy field of golden stars is rent and red

Silence is the voice of mighty things. In silence dropped the acorn in the rain; In silence slept till sun-touched. Wondrous life

Spirit of Liberty, Wake in the Land! Sons of our Forefathers,

Stibor had led in many a fight, And broken a score of swords In furious frays and bloody raids

White-haired and hoary-bearded, who art thou That speedest on, albeit bent with age, Even as a youth that followeth after dreams?

Poet: "Why this fever why this sighing? Why this restless longing dying

Change is the order of the universe. Worlds wax and wane; suns die and stars are born. Two atoms of cosmic dust unite, cohere

Our columns are broken, defeated, and fled; We are gathered, a few from the flying and dead, Where the green flag is up and our wounded remain

On they ride on they ride Only three hundred, Ride the brave Body-Guard,

Frail are the best of us, brothers God's charity cover us all Yet we ask for perfection in others,

Bear and forbear, I counsel thee, Forgive and be forgiven, For Charity is the golden key

Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee! That was the song that he sang to me Sang from his perch in the willow tree

I From church and chapel and dome and tower, Near far and everywhere,

Down into the darkness at last, Daniel, down into the darkness at last; Laid in the lap of our Mother, Daniel, sleeping the dreamless sleep, Sleeping the sleep of the babe unborn the pure and the perfect rest:

The long winter wanes. On the wings of the spring come the geese and the mallards; On the bare oak the red-robin sings,

Down the broad Ha-Ha W'k-pa[BS] the band took their way to the Games at Ke'za[8] While the swift-footed hunters by land

Do they think of us, say in the far distant West On the Prairies of Peace, in the Valleys of Rest? On the long dusty march when the suntide is hot,

To bid the brave White Chief adieu, on the shady shore gathered the warriors; His glad boatmen manned the canoe,

Dust to dust: Fall and perish love and lust: Life is one brief autumn day;

Dust of the desert are thy walls And temple-towers, O Babylon! O'er crumbled halls the lizard crawls,

Waz'ya came down from the North from the land of perpetual winter. From his frost-covered beard issued forth the sharp-biting,

Hark, the storm is raging high; Beat the breakers on the coast, And the wintry waters cry

Ready and ripe for the harvest lay the acres of golden grain Waving on hillock and hillside and bending along the plain. Ready and ripe for the harvest two veteran armies lay

Mount to horse mount to horse; Forward, Battalion! Gallop the gallant force;

I saw a light on yester-night A low light on the misty lea; The stars were dim and silence grim

Men talk and dream of better days Of a golden time to come; Toward a happy and shining goal

Come then, brave men, from the Land of Lakes With steady steps and cheers; Our country calls, as the battle breaks,

With sable wings wide o'er the land night sprinkles the dew of the heavens; And hard by the dark river's strand,

Fare-thee-well: On my soul the toll of bell Trembles. Thou art calmly sleeping

Dead? or is it a dream Only the voice of a dream? Dead in the prime of his years,

Seek ye the fairest lily of the field, The fairest lotus that in lakelet lies, The fairest rose that ever morn revealed,

Crouching in the early morning, Came the swarth and naked "Sioux;"[CF] On the village, without warning,

Man is a creature of a thousand whims; The slave of hope and fear and circumstance. Through toil and martyrdom a million years

I sit once more on breezy shore, at sunset in this glorious June, I hear the dip of gleaming oar, I list the singers' merry tune. Beneath my feet the waters beat, and ripple on the polished stones,

Misce stultitiam consiliis brevem. Horace. Mrs. McNair Was tall and fair;

Last night in my feverish dreams I heard A voice like the moan of an autumn sea, Or the low, sad wail of a widowed bird,

Where is the minstrel's Father-land? Where the sparks of noble spirits flew, Where flowery wreaths for beauty grew,

My heart's on the Rhine in the old Father-land; Where my cradle was rocked by a dear mother's hand, My youth and my friends they are there yet, I know,

Good morning good morning a happy new year! We greet you, kind friends of the old Pioneer; Hope your coffee is good and your steak is well done,

"Le notte e madre dipensien." I tumble and toss on my pillow, As a ship without rudder or spars

Call me not back, O cold and crafty world: I scorn your thankless thanks and hollow praise. Wiser than seer or scientist content

To Horace Greeley, of date Aug. 22, 1862 "If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it," etc. Perish the power that, bowed to dust, Still wields a tyrant's rod

"We've had a brush," the Captain said, "And Rebel blood we've spilled; We came off victors with the loss

And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery, and when they had set her in the midst, they said unto him "Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us that such be stoned; but what sayest thou?" [St. John, Chap, viii; 3, 4, 5.] Reach thy hand to me, O Jesus; Reach thy loving hand to me,

Old Deutchland's the country for sauerkraut and beer, Old England's the land of roast beef and good cheer, Auld Scotland's the mother of gristle and grit,

To the memory of my devoted wife dead and gone yet always with me I dedicate PAULINE The Flower of my heart nursed into bloom by her loving care and ofttimes watered with her tears

PAUL' S HISTORY "Captain, I hear the cheers. My soul is glad. My days are numbered, but this glorious day

I had rather write one word upon the rock Of ages than ten thousand in the sand. The rock of ages! lo I cannot reach

Away, away, o'er the bounding sea My spirit flies like a gull; For I know my Mary is watching for me,

Et nunc omnis ager, mine omms parturit arbos; Nunc frondent sylv', nunc formostssimus annus. Virgil.

[Nov. 26, 1857, during the great financial depression.] Father, our thanks are due to thee For many a blessing given,

Now a light rustling wind from the South shakes his wings o'er the wide, wimpling waters: Up the dark-winding river DuLuth

Once Satan and a monk went on a "drunk," And Satan struck a bargain with the monk, Whereby the Devil's crew was much increased

Old Father Abe has issued his "Call" For Three Hundred Thousand more! By Jupiter, boys, he is after you all

All-day-long the crash of cannon Shook the battle-covered plain; All-day-long the frenzied foemen

A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS In pronouncing Dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah", "e" the sound of "a", "i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo;" sound "ee" as in English. THE GAME OF BALL[2]

On an arm of an oak hangs the prize for the swiftest and strongest of runners A blanket as red as the skies,

Tall was young Wan'ta, stronger than Hey'ka's [16] giant form, Laughed at flood and fire and hunger, faced the fiercest winter storm. When Wakinyan [32] flashed and thundered, when Unkt'hee raved and roared,

Read at the Celebration of the Old Settlers of Hennepin County, at the Academy of Music, Minneapolis, July 4, 1879. On the Spirit-Island [CH] sitting under midnight's misty moon, Lo I see the spirits flitting o'er the waters one by one!

"What hear I at the gateway ringing? What bard upon the drawbridge singing? Go bid him to repeat his song

Onward rolls the Royal River, proudly sweeping to the sea, Dark and deep and grand, forever wrapt in myth and mystery. Lo he laughs along the highlands, leaping o'er the granite walls;

Have ye heard of Fort Donelson's desperate fight, Where the giant Northwest bared his arm for the right, Where thousands so bravely went down in the slaughter,

When Mollie and I were married from the dear old cottage-home, In the vale between the hills of fir and pine, I parted with a sigh in a stranger-land to roam,

The day of truth is dawning. I behold O'er darksome hills the trailing robes of gold And silent footsteps of the gladsome dawn.

THE LEGEND OF THE PICTURED ROCKS OF LAKE SUPERIOR. OJIBWAY In the measure of Hiawatha. [The numerals refer to Notes to The Sea-Gull, in Appendix.]

Monarch of Hannah's rocking-chair, With unclipped beard and unkempt hair, Sitting at ease by the kitchen fire,

Lo the lights in the "Teepee-W'kan!" 'tis the night of the W'kan Wac'pee. Round and round walks the chief of the clan,

O Mollie, I would I possessed such a heart; It enchants me so gentle and true; I would I possessed all its magical art,

I know thou art true, and I know thou art fair As the rose-bud that blooms in thy beautiful hair; Thou art far, but I feel the warm throb of thy heart;

I am growing old and weary Ere yet my locks are gray; Before me lies eternity,

When madly raged religious war O'er all the Magyar land And royal archer and hussar

'Tis the moon of the sere, falling leaves. From the heads of the maples the west-wind Plucks the red-and-gold plumage and grieves

'Twas sunrise; the spirits of mist trailed their white robes on dewy savannas, And the flowers raised their heads to be kissed

When the meadow-lark trilled o'er the leas and the oriole piped in the maples, From my hammock, all under the trees,