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'Hint more and more a Providence 



( H I. .vi- is understood, 

 Making the spring! of time and sense 



Sweet with eternal good; 



That death seems but a covered wav 



Which opens into liirht, 

 Wherein no lilinde<l rliild can stray 



Beyond the Father's sight ; 



That care and trial seem at last, 

 Through Memory's sunset air, 



hike mountain-ranges overpast, 

 In purple distance fair ; 



That all the jarring notes of life 



Seem blending in a psalm, 

 And all the angles of its strife 



Slow rounding into calm. 



And so the shadows fall apart, 

 And so the west-winds play ; 



And all the windows of my heart 

 I open to the day. 



From the hour when his voice could make 

 itself heard effectively, \Vhittier had used it to 

 portray the sinfulness of slavery and, if not 

 direct ly the sinfulness of war, at least the bless- 

 ings and duty of peace. As the struggle that 

 was evoked by slavery approached the nece-siiy 

 for a death-grapple, he was sorely tried. His 

 heroic nature would not permit his pen to bo 

 idle, while his life-long principles made it 

 almost impossible to wield it in defense of war 

 even for his country's life and slavery's death. 

 The first stanza that he wrote in that crisis was : 



We see not, know not ; all our way 

 Is night, with Thee alone is day : 

 From out the torrent's troubled drift. 

 Above the storm our prayers we lift, 

 Thy Will be done ! 



The second poem, entitled "A Word for the 

 Hour," run : 



Let us not weakly weep 

 Nor rashly threaten. Give us grace to keep 

 Our faith and patience ; wherefore should we leap 

 On one hand into fratricidal figlit, 

 Or, on the other, yield eternal right, 

 Frame lies of law, and good and ill confound ? 

 They break the links of Union ; shall we light 

 The fires of hell to weld anew the chain 

 On that red anvil where each blow is pain ? 



His next poem was the prophetic one entitled 

 " Ein Feste Burg ist unser Uott," which begins: 



We wait beneath the furnace-blast 



The pangs of transformation ; 

 Not painlessly doth God recast 

 And mould anew the nation. 

 Hot burns the fire 

 Where wrongs expire ; 

 Nor spares the hand 

 That from the land 

 Uproots the ancient evil. 



How the education of our poet proceeded is 

 shown in the dialogue between Peace and 

 Freedom, which lie called "The Watcher." 

 Part of it is as follows : 



" How long ! " I knew the voice of Peace, 

 "I> there no respite ? no release ? 

 When shall the hopeless quarrel cease ? 



" O Lord, how long ! One human soul 

 Is more than any parchment scroll, 

 Or any flag thy wiuda unroll. 



"What price was Ellsworth'*, young and brave? 

 How weigh the gift that. L>on gave, 

 Or count the cost of Wiuthrop's grave? 



"O brother ! -If thine eye can see, 

 Tell how and when the end shall be, 

 What hope remains for thee and me." 



Then Freedom sternly said : " I shun 

 No strife nor pang beneath the sun, 

 When human rights are staked and won. 



" I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock, 

 1 watched in Toussaint's cell of rock, 

 I walked with Sidney to the block. 



" The moor of Marston felt my tread, 

 Through Jersey snows the march I led, 

 My voice Magenta's charges sped. 



" But now, through weary day and night, 

 I watch a vague and aimless tight 

 For leave to strike one blow aright." 



One of the most melodious of his songs is that 

 which was written for the "Battle Autumn " of 

 1862, beginning : 



The flags of war like storm-birds fly, 



The charging trumpets blow ; 

 Yet rolls no thunder in the i-ky, 



No earthquake strives below. 



And, calm and patient, Nature keeps 



Her ancient promise well, 

 Though o'er her bloom and greenness sweeps 



The battle's breath of hell. 



And still she walks in golden hours 



Through harvest-happy farms, 

 And still she wears her fruits and flowers 



Like jewels on her arms. 



Tho rhymes of this peace-lover had by this 

 time become a power. The musical i>oem, "At 

 Port Royal," at once became a favorite, and 

 " Barbara Frietchie " attained the greatest pop- 

 ularity. 



In regard to the origin of " Barbara Frietchie/' 

 \Vhittier said that he was waiting one day for 

 his mail, in the Amesbury post-office, when he 

 overheard a soldier, home on leave, who had been 

 wounded in the battle of Monocacy, describe tin- 

 scene from his own observation. He did not 

 know the woman's name. Whittier wrote to the 

 postmaster of Frederick, describing the incident, 

 and asking for the name. The reply was : "In 

 all probability the heroine's name is Barbara 

 Frietchie." 



The abolition of slavery and the end of the war 

 afforded more grateful themes. A portion of 

 " Laus Deo," written on hearing the oells that 

 announced the passage of the Fifteenth Amend- 

 ment to the Constitution, runs : 







It is done ! 



Clang of bell and roar of gun 

 Send the tidings up and down. 

 How the belfries rock and reel ! 

 How the great guns, peal on peal. 

 Fling the joy from towu to town ! 



Ring, O bells ! 



Every stroke exulting tells 

 Of the burial hour of crime. 



Loud and long, that all may hear, 



Ring for every listening ear 

 Of Eternity and Time ! 



