| |
| WHAT ’s hallowed ground? Has earth a clod | |
| Its Maker meant not should be trod | |
| By man, the image of his God, | |
| Erect and free, | |
| Unscourged by Superstition’s rod | 5 |
| To bow the knee? | |
| |
| That ’s hallowed ground where, mourned and missed, | |
| The lips repose our love has kissed;— | |
| But where ’s their memory’s mansion? Is ’t | |
| Yon churchyard’s bowers? | 10 |
| No! in ourselves their souls exist, | |
| A part of ours. | |
| |
| A kiss can consecrate the ground | |
| Where mated hearts are mutual bound: | |
| The spot where love’s first links were wound, | 15 |
| That ne’er are riven, | |
| Is hallowed down to earth’s profound, | |
| And up to heaven! | |
| |
| For time makes all but true love old; | |
| The burning thoughts that then were told | 20 |
| Run molten still in memory’s mould; | |
| And will not cool | |
| Until the heart itself be cold | |
| In Lethe’s pool. | |
| |
| What hallows ground where heroes sleep? | 25 |
| ’T is not the sculptured piles you heap! | |
| In dews that heavens far distant weep | |
| Their turf may bloom; | |
| Or Genii twine beneath the deep | |
| Their coral tomb. | 30 |
| |
| But strew his ashes to the wind | |
| Whose sword or voice has served mankind,— | |
| And is he dead, whose glorious mind | |
| Lifts thine on high?— | |
| To live in hearts we leave behind | 35 |
| Is not to die. | |
| |
| Is ’t death to fall for Freedom’s right? | |
| He ’s dead alone that lacks her light! | |
| And murder sullies in heaven’s sight | |
| The sword he draws:— | 40 |
| What can alone ennoble fight? | |
| A noble cause! | |
| |
| Give that,—and welcome War to brace | |
| Her drums, and rend heaven’s reeking space! | |
| The colors planted face to face, | 45 |
| The charging cheer, | |
| Though Death’s pale horse lead on the chase, | |
| Shall still be dear. | |
| |
| And place our trophies where men kneel | |
| To Heaven!—but Heaven rebukes my zeal! | 50 |
| The cause of Truth and human weal, | |
| O God above! | |
| Transfer it from the sword’s appeal | |
| To Peace and Love. | |
| |
| Peace, Love! the cherubim, that join | 55 |
| Their spread wings o’er Devotion’s shrine, | |
| Prayers sound in vain, and temples shine, | |
| Where they are not,— | |
| The heart alone can make divine | |
| Religion’s spot. | 60 |
| |
| To incantations dost thou trust, | |
| And pompous rites in domes august? | |
| See mouldering stones and metal’s rust | |
| Belie the vaunt, | |
| That man can bless one pile of dust | 65 |
| With chime or chant. | |
| |
| The ticking wood-worm mocks thee, man! | |
| Thy temples,—creeds themselves grow wan! | |
| But there ’s a dome of nobler span, | |
| A temple given | 70 |
| Thy faith, that bigots dare not ban,— | |
| Its space is heaven! | |
| |
| Its roof, star-pictured Nature’s ceiling, | |
| Where, trancing the rapt spirit’s feeling, | |
| And God himself to man revealing, | 75 |
| The harmonious spheres | |
| Make music, though unheard their pealing | |
| By mortal ears. | |
| |
| Fair stars! are not your beings pure? | |
| Can sin, can death, your worlds obscure? | 80 |
| Else why so swell the thoughts at your | |
| Aspect above? | |
| Ye must be heavens that make us sure | |
| Of heavenly love! | |
| |
| And in your harmony sublime | 85 |
| I read the doom of distant time; | |
| That man’s regenerate soul from crime | |
| Shall yet be drawn, | |
| And reason on his mortal clime | |
| Immortal dawn. | 90 |
| |
| What ’s hallowed ground? ’T is what gives birth | |
| To sacred thoughts in souls of worth!— | |
| Peace! Independence! Truth! go forth | |
| Earth’s compass round; | |
| And your high-priesthood shall make earth | 95 |
| All hallowed ground. | |
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