Olivia Ward Bush-Banks' Original Poems and Driftwood

A Floating Spar

A Floating Spar

O! floating Spar of Hope
'Tis ours to cling full fast to thee,
Outriding e'en the mighty wave,
And current, strong with black despair,
Not even these have power to engulf
Nor stay thine onward course.
Justice and Right are bearing down upon us,
Ay, holding out strong hands,
Of help and timely rescue.
They lead to that long-looked-for Haven
Where man at last plays fair with brother-man
And gives him back his ancient Right. Equality!

ON THE LONG ISLAND INDIAN

How relentless, how impartial,
Is the fleeting hand of time,
By its stroke, great empires vanish
Nations fall in swift decline.

Once resounding through these forests,
Rang the warwhoop shrill and clear,
Once here lived a race of Red Men,
Savage, crude, but knew no fear.

Here they fought their fiercest battles,
Here they caused their wars to cease,
Sitting round their blazing camp fires,
Here they smoked the Pipe of Peace.

Tall and haughty were the warriors,
Of this fierce and warlike race.
Strong and hardy were their women,
Full of beauteous, healthy grace.

Up and down these woods they hunted,
Shot their arrows far and near.
Then in triumph to their wigwams,
Bore the slain and wounded deer.

This page has paths:

This page has tags: