Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/137

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A sudden beauty, brightness, and perfume;
The century-moulded bud shall burst in bloom.

“So may the seed which hath been sown to-day
Grow with the years, and, after long delay,
Break into bloom, and God’s eternal Yea

“Answer at last the patient prayers of them
Who now, by faith alone, behold its stem
Crowned with the flowers of Freedom’s diadem.

“Meanwhile, to feel and suffer, work and wait,
Remains for us. The wrong indeed is great,
But love and patience conquer soon or late.”

“Well hast thou said, my Anna!” Tenderer
Than youth’s caress upon the head of her
Pastorius laid his hand. “Shall we demur

“Because the vision tarrieth? In an hour
We dream not of, the slow-grown bud may flower,
And what was sown in weakness rise in power!”

Then through the vine-draped door whose legend read,
“Procul este profani!” Anna led
To where their child upon his little bed

Looked up and smiled. “Dear heart,” she said, “if we
Must bearers of a heavy burden be,
Our boy, God willing, yet the day shall see

“When from the gallery to the farthest seat,
Slave and slave-owner shall no longer meet,
But all sit equal at the Master’s feet.”

On the stone hearth the blazing walnut block
Set the low walls a-glimmer, showed the cock
Rebuking Peter on the Van Wyck clock,

Shone on old tomes of law and physic, side
By side with Fox and Behmen, played at hide
And seek with Anna, midst her household pride

Of flaxen webs, and on the table, bare
Of costly cloth or silver cup, but where,
Tasting the fat shads of the Delaware,

The courtly Penn had praised the goodwife’s cheer,
And quoted Horace o’er her home-brewed beer,
Till even grave Pastorius smiled to hear.

In such a home, beside the Schuylkill’s wave,
He dwelt in peace with God and man, and gave
Food to the poor and shelter to the slave.

For all too soon the New World’s scandal shamed
The righteous code by Penn and Sidney framed,
And men withheld the human rights they claimed.

And slowly wealth and station sanction lent,
And hardened avarice, on its gains intent,
Stifled the inward whisper of dissent.

Yet all the while the burden rested sore
On tender hearts. At last Pastorius bore
Their warning message to the Church’s door

In God’s name; and the leaven of the word
Wrought ever after in the souls who heard,
And a dead conscience in its grave-clothes stirred

To troubled life, and urged the vain excuse
Of Hebrew custom, patriarchal use,
Good in itself if evil in abuse.

Gravely Pastorius listened, not the less
Discerning through the decent fig-leaf dress
Of the poor plea its shame of selfishness.

One Scripture rule, at least, was unforgot;
He hid the outcast, and bewrayed him not;
And, when his prey the human hunter sought,

He scrupled not, while Anna’s wise delay
And proffered cheer prolonged the master’s stay,
To speed the black guest safely on his way.