In the Evil Days

The evil days have come, the poorAre made a prey;Bar up the hospitable door,Put out the fire-lights, point no moreThe wanderer’s way.

For Pity now is crime; the chainWhich binds our StatesIs melted at her hearth in twain,Is rusted by her tears’ soft rain:Close up her gates.

Our Union, like a glacier stirredBy voice below,Or bell of kine, or wing of bird,A beggar’s crust, a kindly wordMay overthrow!

Poor, whispering tremblers! yet we boastOur blood and name;Bursting its century-bolted frost,Each gray cairn on the Northman’s coastCries out for shame!

Oh for the open firmament,The prairie free,The desert hillside, cavern-rent,The Pawnee’s lodge, the Arab’s tent,The Bushman’s tree!

Than web of Persian loom most rare,Or soft divan,Better the rough rock, bleak and bare,Or hollow tree, which man may shareWith suffering man.

I hear a voice: “Thus saith the Law,Let Love be dumb;Clasping her liberal hands in awe,Let sweet-lipped Charity withdrawFrom hearth and home.”

I hear another voice: “The poorAre thine to feed;Turn not the outcast from thy door,Nor give to bonds and wrong once moreWhom God hath freed.”

Dear Lord! between that law and TheeNo choice remains;Yet not untrue to man’s decree,Though spurning its rewards, is heWho bears its pains.

Not mine Sedition’s trumpet-blastAnd threatening word;I read the lesson of the Past,That firm endurance wins at lastMore than the sword.

O clear-eyed Faith, and Patience thouSo calm and strong!Lend strength to weakness, teach us howThe sleepless eyes of God look throughThis night of wrong!