Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/475

1850-60.] WILLIAM DENTON. 459 And hearts with high hopes laden, greet those vessels drawing nigh : Each noble ship be favored, then, its des- tined port to win, And Heaven's breath safe waft it, with its precious cargo in. Thoughts come like blazing comets, 'thwart the gloomy ev'ning sky. And wondei'-stricken millions look with terror up on high ; They dread lest ev'ry fabric, on this God- made earth, should fall ; Lest comet so portentous should destroy and ruin all, But thoughts, too, have their orbit, all ec- centric though they look; No waver in their burning track, unwritten in the book. Thoughts come like avalanches, from the lofty mountain brow ; The cedars, firm and mighty, with their sturdy branches bow ; The rocky, moss-grown castles fall, no tur- rets left unthrown. While loud above the thundering, comes Superstition's groan. All hoary-headed wrongs are swept, like feathers on the blast, Into oblivion's deepest gulf, where sleeps " the worn-out past." Thoughts come like shocks electric, from the battery of Truth, To strengthen manhood's nerves of steel, and fire the pulse of youth ; They wake to action virtues that have long been left to sleep; And stir the soul's calm fountain, to its silent, slumb'ring deep ; They blast each growing error, with their deadly lightning stroke. And leave its stricken carcass, like a rifted mountain oak. Thoughts yoke themselves like fiery steeds, and drag the world along ; Woe to the stumbling-blocks that would its onward march prolong ! Vain tyrants, despots, slaveocrats, its course ye cannot stay! Resistless as the Universe, it moves upon its way. Dash on, brave Thoughts, in storm or shine, in day, or darkest night ! The goal we'i-e destined yet to reach, is Love, and Truth, and Right. THE REAL AND THE IDEAL. Ever there floats before the real. The bright and beautiful ideal ; And as to guide the sculptor's hand. The living foi'ras of beauty stand. Till from the rough-hewn marble starts A thing of grace in all its parts — So, ever stands before the soul, A model, beautiful and whole — The perfect man that each should be. Erect in true integrity. Keep this, O soul, before thy sight. And form the inward man aright! BLIND WORKERS. As the polyp, slowly toiling. Builds the wondrous coral hills. Never dreaming of the office It so dexterously fulfills ; So the merchants and the doctors, Cabmen, barmen, grub-worms low, Lawyers, parsons, politicians Toil and moil, but never know They are building like the polyp, 'Neath the dark tumultuous wave. Mansions for a coming people. Noble-hearted, true and brave.