Lo, all the age is rank with wrong!
The nations kneel to monstrous might,
And horrid cries that haunt the night,
Have hushed the notes of happy song;
Mankind the deepest truth has missed,
The best emotions have grown dim;
We praise the God that dwelt in Christ,
But crucify the man in him.

Laws, noble, good, and great at first,
With plan perverted, bind again
The regal rights of mind and men
And prove of tyrants far the worst;
With blinded eyes is Nature made,
And knows her constant purpose crossed,
While crafty Jacob plies his trade
And Esau finds his blessing lost.

Earth yields her fruits in ample store;
Her children all are heirs that trace
Their lineage through the royal race,
And all her wealth is theirs and more;
But one with cunning hand controls
The portions that his brothers fed,
While thousands just and worthy souls
In aimless anguish cry for bread!

No royal blood by caste or creed,
No pride of place, no gild of gold
Can warm the weak, accursed with cold,
Or light the awful nights of need;
Labor alone can blessings bring
To crown the brows of freedom’s brave;
The toiler is the truest king,
The idler is the only slave!

But laugh, O, Labor, dry thy tears!
A better day is drawing nigh;
Hope brightens all the somber sky;
The golden age of Love is near!
Behold! But yonder stands a Star!
The ancient lies are downward hurled;
A man a child is greater far
Than all the wealth of all the world!

“LOVE, THOU GAYEST FANCY-WEAVER.”

Love, thou gayest fancy-weaver,
Heart-betrayer, soul-deceiver,
Come with all thy clinging kisses;
Bringing all thy beaming blisses;
It may serve the cynic’s parts,
If he curse and if he scout thee,
But, O, where were gentle hearts,
If they had to live without thee!

Weave the spells of thy beguiling
’Round and ’round me with thy smiling,
Till the ashen cheek is beaming,
And the faded eye is gleaming;
Millions may endure the fight
In the battle vain to end thee,
But when taste they thy delight
They will serve thee and defend thee.

Bring thy little winsome graces
And the sweets of glad embraces,
Till the pleasures all are dancing
Into mazy whirls entrancing;
It may please the icy breast
To despise thee and distress thee,
But the burning hearts find rest
When they bless thee and caress thee.

Send thy gladness, laughing rover,
All my sorrows o’er and over,
Till the strains of happy pleasure
Mingle in melodious measure;
It may give a transient glee
To condemn thy ways and sever,
But the sweets of melody
Thou wilt murmur on forever.

Bind my heart in silken chaining,
Till from thee is none remaining;
Clothe my soul in glad completeness
Of thy happiness and sweetness;
When the times are true, the soul
May not hunger for thy gladness,
But when surging sorrows roll
Thou alone shall banish sadness.