Daily Whitman

canoe_lake_1600

By Blue Ontario’s Shore

20
  O my rapt verse, my call, mock me not!
  Not for the bards of the past, not to invoke them have I launch'd
      you forth,
  Not to call even those lofty bards here by Ontario's shores,
  Have I sung so capricious and loud my savage song.

  Bards for my own land only I invoke,
  (For the war the war is over, the field is clear'd,)
  Till they strike up marches henceforth triumphant and onward,
  To cheer O Mother your boundless expectant soul.

  Bards of the great Idea! bards of the peaceful inventions! (for the
      war, the war is over!)
  Yet bards of latent armies, a million soldiers waiting ever-ready,
  Bards with songs as from burning coals or the lightning's fork'd stripes!
  Ample Ohio's, Kanada's bards—bards of California! inland bards—
      bards of the war!
  You by my charm I invoke.

 

Posted on 26/03/2015, in literature, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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