Classic Poem

If buds by hopes of spring are blessed
That sleep beneath the snow,
And hearts by coming joys caressed,
Which yet they dimly know, —
On fields where England's daisies gleam,
And Ireland's shamrocks bloom,
To-day shall summer, in her dream,
Be glad with thoughts of Brougham.

To-day, o'er miles and miles of sea,
Beneath the jocund sun,
With merrier force and madder glee
The bannered winds shall run:
To-day great waves shall ramp and reel,
And clash their shields of foam,
With bliss to feel the coming keel
That bears the wanderer home!

For he that, loved and honored here,
(God bless his silver head!)
O'er many a heart, for many a year,
The dew of joy has shed,
Longs for the land that gave him birth,
Turns back to boy again,
And, bright with all the flags of mirth,
Sails homeward o'er the main.

Ah, well may winds and waves be gay,
And flowers and streams rejoice,
And that sweet region far away
Become one greeting voice;
For he draws backward to that place,
Who ne'er, by deed or art,
Made darkness in one human face,
Or sorrow in one heart!

He comes, whom all the rosy sprites
That round Thalia throng
Have tended close through golden nights
Of laughter, wit, and song;
Whom love's bright angels still have known, —
He ne'er forgot to hear
The helpless widow's suppliant moan,
Or dry the orphan's tear.

Where boughs of oak and willow toss,
His life's white pathway flows, —
With many an odor blown across,
Of lily and of rose.
His gentle life, that blessings crown,
Is fame no chance can dim;
We honor manhood's best renown
When now we honor him.

Grief may stand silent in the eye,
And silent on the lip,
When, poised between the sea and sky,
Dips down the fading ship;
But there's one charm his heart to keep
And hold his constant mind, —
He'll find no love beyond the deep
Like that he leaves behind!

So, to thy breast, old ocean, take
This brother of our soul!
Ye winds, be gentle for his sake!
Ye billows, smoothly roll!
And thou, sad Ireland, green and fair,
Across the waters wild
Stretch forth strong arms of loving care,
And guard thy cherished child!

And whether back to us he drift,
Or pass beyond our view,
Where life's celestial mountains lift
Their peaks above the blue, —
His will be done, whose gracious will,
Through all our mortal fret,
The sacred blessing leaves us still,
To love, and not forget.