Must rot if they abjure rapacity,
     Not argument but effort shall decide. 
     They number many heads in that hard flock: 
     Trim swordsmen they push forth:  yet try thy steel. 
     Thou, fighting for poor humankind, wilt feel
     The strength of Roland in thy wrist to hew
     A chasm sheer into the barrier rock,
     And bring the army of the faithful through.

     Lines to A friend visiting America

     I

     Now farewell to you! you are
     One of my dearest, whom I trust: 
     Now follow you the Western star,
     And cast the old world off as dust.

     II

     From many friends adieu! adieu! 
     The quick heart of the word therein. 
     Much that we hope for hangs with you: 
     We lose you, but we lose to win.

     III

     The beggar-king, November, frets: 
     His tatters rich with Indian dyes
     Goes hugging:  we our season’s debts
     Pay calmly, of the Spring forewise.

     IV

     We send our worthiest; can no less,
     If we would now be read aright, —
     To that great people who may bless
     Or curse mankind:  they have the might.

     V

     The proudest seasons find their graves,
     And we, who would not be wooed, must court. 
     We have let the blunderers and the waves
     Divide us, and the devil had sport.

     VI

     The blunderers and the waves no more
     Shall sever kindred sending forth
     Their worthiest from shore to shore
     For welcome, bent to prove their worth.

     VII

     Go you and such as you afloat,
     Our lost kinsfellowship to revive. 
     The battle of the antidote
     Is tough, though silent:  may you thrive!

     VIII

     I, when in this North wind I see
     The straining red woods blown awry,
     Feel shuddering like the winter tree,
     All vein and artery on cold sky.

     IX

     The leaf that clothed me is torn away;
     My friend is as a flying seed. 
     Ay, true; to bring replenished day
     Light ebbs, but I am bare, and bleed.

     X

     What husky habitations seem
     These comfortable sayings! they fell,
     In some rich year become a dream:-
     So cries my heart, the infidel! . . .

     XI

     Oh! for the strenuous mind in quest,
     Arabian visions could not vie
     With those broad wonders of the West,
     And would I bid you stay?  Not I!

     XII

     The strange experimental land
     Where men continually dare take
     Niagara leaps;—­unshattered stand
     ‘Twixt fall and fall;—­for conscience’ sake,

     XIII

     Drive onward like a flood’s increase; —
     Fresh rapids and abysms engage; —
     (We live—­we die) scorn fireside peace,
     And, as a garment, put on rage,