Classic Poem

Heroes there are unknown to fame,
Who live and die without a name,
And yet whose lives might put to shame
The proud of birth.
Meek, humble, unassuming ones,
Ye are the spiritual suns
That gladden earth!

My old schoolmaster, upright John,
Tho' to the world but little known,
Was one who might have fill'd a throne.
Well would it be
If only all earth's thrones were fill'd,
And men were taught, and train'd, and drill'd,
By such as he.

Wide was his spiritual ken,
One born to guide with tongue and pen,
A leader — yea, a king — of men,
A soul upright.
Meanness and malice, lust and greed,
And all their hungry, heartless breed,
Quail'd in his sight.

A bulwark to the mild and meek,
A staff was he to all the weak,
A voice for all who could not speak;
And sorrow lone,
With none to succor, none to cheer,
Had aye thy sympathetic tear,
Great-hearted John!

Many there are could look on death,
And willingly resign their breath,
But few like him could face men's wrath,
And nobly dare.
The bigot's frown, the tyrant's snoul,
The pointed finger of the fool,
How few can bear.

But, throwing oft such things apart,
He found in Music's melting art
A solace for his weary heart.
Music, ah, me!
Amid a world of sin and strife,
Thou art the very bread of life
To such as he.

Oh, how he sang old Scotia's lays!
Of love in long forgotten days,
Of Freedom's battles 'mong the braes —
Heroic strains
That thrill'd my heart, and sent the blood
All leaping like a roaring flood
Along my veins.

E'en ballads old to him were dear,
And still the wailing strains I hear
That cost me many a sigh and tear
Long, long ago.
Those little dramas, void of art,
Those heavings of the Scottish heart
In joy or woe.

Tho' men were his peculiar care,
He lov'd all things of earth and air,
The bounding deer, the timid hare;
And he would say:
" Range, pretty creatures! range at will! —
We lie not here to watch and kill —
In freedom stray! "

Like living things, fondly caress'd,
Each little wilding was a guest —
The gowan nestled on his breast,
And blossom'd there —
Their loveliness his spirit caught,
And in his web of life he wrought
The jewels rare.

By valleys green, by mountains hoar,
And on old Ocean's sounding shore,
He studied Nature's mystic lore,
And learn'd her tongue.
Creation widened till he saw
All objects thro' the veil of awe
Around her hung —

Saw matter's forms from spirit spun,
This rock-built world, yon regal sun,
But types of the Eternal One;
With awe-struck mien,
Beheld in the stupendous whole
The grand procession of the Soul,
Which is not seen.

But, leaving speculations high
For other things that round us lie,
Things that our inmost spirits try,
He spake words fit —
Yea, living words, all void of art,
The very coinage of his heart,
I hear them yet:

" Falsehood may flourish for an hour,
And sit within the seat of pow'r,
And Virtue in her presence cow'r " —
'Twas thus he spoke —
" But surely she'll be downward cast,
And weary Earth be free at last
From her vile yoke.

" We see the just man vilely treated,
But God and Nature are not cheated,
He still is victor, tho' defeated
Times ninety-nine;
For who can put the truth to rout?
Or who can ever trample out
Aught that's divine?

" When once thy duty's plain and clear,
Then do it thou, and never fear
Tho' friends may pity, fools may jeer,
And cowards flee;
Yea, what tho' all the world disdain?
While God and Nature thee sustain,
What's that to thee?

" We issue from a bright abode,
But, weighted with this earthly clod,
We crawl thro' matter back to God,
The glory gone;
While all the hosts of angels' eyes —
No, not in anger, but surprise —
Are looking on.

" Oh! why will men not walk erect,
Their brows with native glory deck'd,
And feel the joy of self-respect,
And moral worth;
And throw aside their castes and creeds,
And make their standard noble deeds —
Not blood and birth?

" Cast selfishness from out thy mind,
Feel for and with all humankind,
Leave nothing to regret behind,
And death shall be
A summons to a higher state,
Where all thy lov'd and lost shall wait
To welcome thee. "