WRITTEN AFTER THE SECOND
BATTLE OF BULL RUN
by: Harriet Beecher Stowe
- H, many-voiced and angry! how
- Beat turbulent with terrible uproar!
- Is there no rest from tossing, -- no repose?
- Where shall we find a haven and a shore?
- What is secure from the land-dashing wave?
- There go our riches, and our hopes fly there;
- There go the faces of our best beloved,
- Whelmed in the vortex of its wild despair.
- Whose son is safe? whose brother, and whose home?
- The dashing spray beats out the household fire;
- By blackened ashes weep our widowed souls
- Over the embers of our lost desire.
- By pauses, in the fitful moaning storm,
- We hear triumphant notes of battle roll.
- Too soon the triumph sinks in funeral wail;
- The muffled drum, the death march, shakes the soul!
- Rocks on all sides, and breakers! at the helm
- Weak human hand and weary human eyes.
- The shout and clamor of our dreary strife
- Goes up conflicting to the angry skies.
- But for all this, O timid hearts, be strong;
- Be of good cheer, for, though the storm must be,
- It hath its Master: from the depths shall rise
- New heavens, new earth, where shall be no more sea.
- No sea, no tossing, no unrestful storm!
- Forever past the anguish and the strife;
- The poor old weary earth shall bloom again,
- With the bright foliage of that bitter life.
- And war, and strife, and hatred, shall be past,
- And misery be a forgotten dream.
- The Shepherd God shall lead his peaceful fold
- By the calm meadows and the quiet stream.
- Be still, be still, and know that he is God;
- Be calm, be trustful; work, and watch, and pray,
- Till from the throes of this last anguish rise
- The light and gladness of that better day.
MORE POEMS BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
"Consolation" is reprinted
from The Liberator, October 31, 1862.