A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

344

Historians usually mention Charles Kingsley (1819-1875) only as an English novelist, but it seems probable that eventually he will be remembered chiefly for his work in juvenile literature. His Water Babies is popular with children of the fourth and fifth grade, while his book of Greek myths entitled The Heroes is a classic for older children. The next two poems are popular with both adults and children. Kingsley was a minister and his church was located in Devon so that the tragedies of the sea among the fisher folk were often brought to his attention. Both these poems deal with such tragedies.

THE THREE FISHERS

CHARLES KINGSLEY

Three fishers went sailing out into the west,

Out into the west as the sun went down;

Each thought of the woman who loved

him the best,

And the children stood watching them out of the town;

For men must work, and women must

weep;

And there's little to earn, and many to keep,

Though the harbor bar be moaning.

Three wives sat up in the light-house tower,

And trimmed the lamps as the sun went down;

And they looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower,

And the rack it came rolling up, ragged and brown;

But men must work, and women must weep,

Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,

And the harbor bar be moaning.

Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down,

And the women are watching and wringing their hands,

For those who will never come back to

the town;

For men must work, and women must weep,

And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep,

And good-by to the bar and its moaning.

345

THE SANDS OF DEE

CHARLES KINGSLEY

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home

Across the sands of Dee!"

The western wind was wild and dank with foam,

And all alone went she.

The western tide crept up along the sand,

And o'er and o'er the sand,

And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see.

The rolling mist came down and hid the

land:

And never home came she.

The wild hawk stood with the down on

his beak,

And stared, with his foot on the prey, And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs,

But never a one so gay,

For he sings of what the world will be When the years have died away."

349

Those who live near the sea know that outside a harbor a bar is formed of earth washed down from the land. At low tide this may be so near the surface as to be dangerous to ships passing in and out, and the waves may beat against it with a moaning sound. In his eighty-first year Tennyson wrote "Crossing the Bar" to express his thought about death. He represents the soul as having come from the boundless deep of eternity into this world-harbor of Time and Place, and he represents death as the departure from the harbor. He would have no lingering illness to bar the departure. He would have the end of life's day to be peaceful and without sadness of farewell, for he trusts that his journey into the sea of eternity will be guided by "my Pilot." This poem may be somewhat beyond the comprehension of eighth-grade pupils, but they can perceive the beauty of the imagery and music, and later in life it will be a source of hope and comfort.

CROSSING THE BAR

ALFRED TENNYSON

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar When I put out to sea,

boundless deep Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

350

Leigh Hunt (1784-1859) was an English essayist, journalist, and poet. His one universally known poem is "Abou Ben Adhem." The secret of its appeal is no doubt the emphasis placed on the idea that a person's attitude toward his fellows is more important than mere professions. The line "Write me as one that loves his fellow men" is on Hunt's tomb in Kensal Green Cemetery, London.

ABOU BEN ADHEM

LEIGH HUNT

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

And saw, within the moonlight in his

room,

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,

And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?"-the vision rais'd

its head,

And with a look made all of sweet accord,

Too full for sound and foam,

the Lord."

not so,"

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,

Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,

And show'd the names whom love of God

had blest,

And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

351

Cincinnatus Heine Miller, generally known

as Joaquin Miller (1841-1912), revealed in his verse much of the restless energy of Western America, where most of his life was passed. "Columbus" is probably his best known poem. "For Those Who Fail" suggests the important truth that he who wins popular applause is not usually the one who most deserves to be honored.

FOR THOSE WHO FAIL
JOAQUIN MILLER

"All honor to him who shall win the prize,"

The world has cried for a thousand

years;

But to him who tries and who fails and dies, I give great honor and glory and tears.

O great is the hero who wins a name,

But greater many and many a time, Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame,

And lets God finish the thought sublime.

And great is the man with a sword undrawn,

And good is the man who refrains from wine;

352

Numerous poems have been written about the futility of searching on earth for a place of perfect happiness. The next poem, by Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), seems to deal with this subject. Some lines from Longfellow are good to suggest its special message:

"No endeavor is in vain,
Its reward is in the doing,
And the rapture of pursuing
Is the prize the vanquished gain."

ELDORADO

EDGAR ALLAN POE

Gaily bedight,

A gallant knight,

In sunshine and in shadow Had journeyed long, Singing a song,

In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old –

This knight so bold

And o'er his heart a shadow

Fell as he found

No spot of ground That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow-
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be-
This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the mountains
Of the Moon,

Down the Valley of the Shadow

Ride, boldly ride,"

The Shade replied,

"If you seek for Eldorado!"

353

Lord Byron (1788-1824) was the most popular of English poets in his day. His fame has since declined, although his fiery, impetuous nature, expressing itself in rapid verse of great rhetorical and satiric power, still reaches kindred spirits. His "Prisoner of Chillon" is often studied in the upper grades. It is full of the passion for freedom which was the dominating idea in Byron's work as it was in his life. He gave his life for this idea, striving to help the Greeks gain their independence. The poem which follows is from an early work called Hebrew Melodies. We learn from II Chronicles 32:21 that Sennacherib, King of Assyria, having invaded Judah, Hezekiah cried unto heaven, "And the Lord sent an angel, which cut off the mighty men of valor, and the leaders and captains in the camp of the King of Assyria. So he returned with shame of face to his own land." Byron's title seems to indicate that Sennacherib was himself destroyed. The fine swinging measure of the lines, and the vivid picture of the destroyed hosts in contrast to the brilliant glory of their triumphant invasion, are two of the chief elements in its appeal.

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB

LORD BYRON

The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold, :

Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,

The host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,

And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;

And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,

And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride:

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,

And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;

And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,

The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,

And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;