Mother Country

(Macmillan's Magazine, March 1868.)     Oh what is that country         And where can it be,     Not mine own country,         But dearer far to me?     Yet mine own country,         If I one day may see     Its spices and cedars,         Its gold and ivory.     As I lie dreaming         It rises, that land:     There rises before me         Its green golden strand,     With its bowing cedars         And its shining sand;     It sparkles and flashes         Like a shaken brand.     Do angels lean nearer         While I lie and long?     I see their soft plumage         And catch their windy song,     Like the rise of a high tide         Sweeping full and strong;     I mark the outskirts         Of their reverend throng.     Oh what is a king here,         Or what is a boor?     Here all starve together,         All dwarfed and poor;     Here Death's hand knocketh         At door after door,     He thins the dancers         From the festal floor.     Oh what is a handmaid,         Or what is a queen?     All must lie down together         Where the turf is green,     The foulest face hidden,         The fairest not seen;     Gone as if never,         They had breathed or been.     Gone from sweet sunshine         Underneath the sod,     Turned from warm flesh and blood         To senseless clod,     Gone as if never         They had toiled or trod,     Gone out of sight of all         Except our God.     Shut into silence         From the accustomed song,     Shut into solitude         From all earth's throng,     Run down tho' swift of foot,         Thrust down tho' strong;     Life made an end of         Seemed it short or long.     Life made an end of,         Life but just begun,     Life finished yesterday,         Its last sand run;     Life new-born with the morrow,         Fresh as the sun:     While done is done for ever;         Undone, undone.     And if that life is life,         This is but a breath,     The passage of a dream         And the shadow of death;     But a vain shadow         If one considereth;     Vanity of vanities,         As the Preacher saith.