Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.
Monadnock
By William Bourne Oliver Peabody (1799–1847)U
The angry storm has ceased to beat,
And broken clouds are gathering now
In sullen reverence round his feet;
I saw their dark and crowded bands
In thunder on his breast descending;
But there once more redeemed he stands,
And heaven’s clear arch is o’er him bending.
Burned like a bale-fire on the height;
I ’ve seen him when the day was done,
Bathed in the evening’s crimson light.
I ’ve seen him at the midnight hour,
When all the world were calmly sleeping,
Like some stern sentry in his tower,
His weary watch in silence keeping.
His lofty turret upward springs;
He owns no rival summit near,
No sovereign but the King of kings.
Thousands of nations have passed by,
Thousands of years unknown to story,
And still his aged walls on high
He rears, in melancholy glory.
Live but an age before they fall;
While that severe and hoary tower
Outlasts the mightiest of them all.
And man himself, more frail, by far,
Than even the works his hand is raising,
Sinks downward, like the falling star
That flashes, and expires in blazing.
Its loves and sorrows, joys and fears,
Its hopes and memories, must depart
To sleep with unremembered years.
But still that ancient rampart stands
Unchanged, though years are passing o’er him;
And time withdraws his powerless hands,
While ages melt away before him.
Within his cold and silent breast;
To him no gentle voice repeats
The soothing words that make us blest.
And more than this,—his deep repose
Is troubled by no thoughts of sorrow;
He hath no weary eyes to close,
No cause to hope or fear to-morrow.
Perchance, in some succeeding years,
The eyes that know no cloud to-day
May gaze upon thee dim with tears.
Then may thy calm, unaltering form
Inspire in me the firm endeavor,
Like thee, to meet each lowering storm,
Till life and sorrow end forever.