TO MY READERS

Nay, blame me not; I might have spared
Your patience many a trivial verse,
Yet these my earlier welcome shared,
So, let the better shield the worse.

And some might say, "Those ruder songs
Had freshness which the new have lost;
To spring the opening leaf belongs,

The chestnut-burs await the frost." When those I wrote, my locks were brown,

When these I write-ah, well-a-day! 10 The autumn thistle's silvery down

Is not the purple bloom of May!

Go, little book, whose pages hold
Those garnered years in loving trust;
How long before your blue and gold
Shall fade and whiten in the dust?

O sexton of the alcoved tomb,
Where souls in leathern cerements lie,
Tell me each living poet's doom!
How long before his book shall die? 20

It matters little, soon or late,

A day, a month, a year, an age,—

I read oblivion in its date,

And Finis on its title-page.

In many a battle's tempest

It shed the crimson rain,—

What God has woven in His loom Let no man rend in twain!

To Canaän, to Canaän

The Lord has led us forth,

To plant upon the rebel towers
The banners of the North!

What troop is this that follows,
All armed with picks and spades?
These are the swarthy bondsmen,—
The iron-skin brigades!

They'll pile up Freedom's breastwork,
They'll scoop out rebels' graves;
Who then will be their owner
And march them off for slaves?
To Canaän, to Canaän

The Lord has led us forth,

To strike upon the captive's chain
The hammers of the North.

What song is this you 're singing?
The same that Israel sung
When Moses led the mighty choir,
And Miriam's timbrel rung!
To Canaän! To Canaän!
The priest and maidens cried;
To Canaän! To Canaän!
The people's voice replied.

To Canaän, to Canaän
The Lord has led us forth,
To thunder through its adder dens
The anthems of the North!

When Canaän's hosts are scattered,
And all her walls lie flat,
What follows next in order?
-The Lord will see to that!
We'll break the tyrant's sceptre,-
We'll build the people's throne,-
When half the world is Freedom's
Then all the world's our own!

To Canaän, to Canaän

The Lord has led us forth,

To sweep the rebel threshing-floors,
A whirlwind from the North!

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