Norwalk After Two Hundred & Fifty Years

Out errand a success; But no one knew what joy had come Our inmost souls to bless! In violet tints the twilight glowed, The west was shining still, And from the forest swept the note If happy whippoorwill! 'Tis heaven begun!' my Sarah cried; 'My soul exultant sings; Yon sunset clouds seem seraphs bright Afloat on snowy wings!'" Just at this point my flounder leaped Upon a neighboring stone; My friend's attention I invoked, And found myself alone! Soothed by the waters and the sun I may have slept and dreamed, Although my ancient visitor Most realistic seemed! And I reflected that the men 164 And women we recall, The pioneers, the patriots. Were human one and all! The heart's deep passions all they knew, Its joys and hopes and fears, Its gleams of sunshine and the clouds That yielded bitter tears! And as I mused they nearer seemed, And o'er the waste of time I reached my hand in tenderness To all those souls sublime! Their lot was hard, their life was stern, Sore griefs they must have known, And yet their inmost soul was keyed In rhythm with our own. 0 fathers, mothers, brothers, friends, Amid the hurrying years, We stand with you, one flesh, one soul, One life of smiles and tears! The centuries may roll away As stars their courses run, Earth's rock-ribbed coasts may change, and yet Humanity is one! And still, how very much he lacked, The Norwalk pioneer Who set the pillars of the State On firm foundations here. If we but place ourselves in thought Where he so nobly stood, We feel how barren was his life In its pursuit of good. To us who dwell amid the blaze Of time's exalted noon, It seems that he, the pioneer, Was born by far too soon! The banner dyed in Orient flame, Whose stars spell out great Freedom's name, Whose stripes are bright with patriot's fame; This had not lifted into view Its heaven-born red and white and blue, While he earth's light and shadow knew. The great Republic whose domain Eastern and western oceans drain A giant lake and gulf retain; 15B Whose might a continent has spanned And overleaped its native land Far tropic islands to command; Of this, when wildest fancy gleamed, And all the future brightness beamed, He never for a moment dreamed! Of Washington, the nation's boast, Of martyred Lincoln, loved the most, Of Grant, who led the dauntless host; Of Clay and Webster and their peers Who graced our great historic years And waked the nation's joys or fears, Of our McKinley, wise and grand — Worthy with noblest chiefs to stand, The pride and glory of the land; He never heard; no prophet came To tell the pioneer their name And paint for him their deathless fame! The columns marching to the fray On Bunker Hill's heroic day, Or when old Norwalk burned away; The forces that on Erie fell While white-capped billows sobbed their knell And winds alone their grave could tell; The millions that at Lincoln's call Bade blighting slavery's strongholds fall And liberty conferred on all; The hosts that stormed up San Juan hill The nation's edict to fulfill And break the heartless tyrant's will; Of these no glimpse the pioneer Was privileged to gain; no cheer Of victory's rapture smote his ear! These men of war, these heroes brave, Who freely all they cherished gave Humanity's best hope to save; 166 Whose blood has stained our banner red, Whose valor crowning every head Has deathless glory o'er it shed; These whom we honor came in view A century after he withdrew To join the standard in the blue! Red-handed Anarchy, whose blow, Lays loved and honored ruler low, And fills the land with bitterest woe, That horror such as this could be, The settler did not live to see, Nor dreamed of such iniquity! Much that has now familiar grown To him, alas! was all unknown, The fruit of seeds as yet unsown! With Ptolemy he viewed the world As central, while around it whirled The orbs Omnipotence had hurled! He thought the heavens in shining maze, The earth with all its wondrous ways, Were builded in six summer days! The theory that all had sprung From germs original outflung The awful gulfs of space among; That these while cycles slowly rolled Strange forms of beauty did unfold Till nature's thrilling tale was told; This truth as yet was all untaught, Nor yet by sage nor prophet thought, Nor into human fancy wrought! The lightning blazed along the skies, But was not brought in mild disguise To cheer the early settler's eyes! No telegraphic message came On pinions of electric flame Bringing its tale of grief or fame! 157 The pioneer had never known The "central" girl's incisive tone, Nor chatted with the telephone! A football head ot hair to him Suggested neither freak nor whim, He never caught the vision grim! A game of Harvard vs. Yale, If crimson or if blue prevail, Was all to him an unknown tale! The Indian warwhoop through the dell Had features that he knew full well, But not a modern college yell! The charms of golf he never knew, Nor clamored for the "green" or "blue," When croquet contest was in view! As "club-man" he was never known; For all the club that time had shown Was made of hickory tipped with stone! No "woman suffrage" man was he, For woman had not thought to flee From man's dire inhumanity! Not yet was she the woman "new," Emancipated, brought to view, Eager for all that's wise and true! Not yet had she curtailed her frock, Nor bound her neck in stiffest stock, Nor given a tea at five o'clock! He only knew her as "at home," The charm that drew, where'er he'd roam, From forest glen or ocean foam! He never knew of Cresceus fleet, Nor heard of Maud S.'s magic feet, Nor yacht that could Sir Lipton beat! He never wrestled with a tire, Nor took a "header" in the mire, Nor for a "chainless" did inquire. 158 He bravely trudged through "Pudding Lane, And sought "Old Well" mid sun or rain — Nor ever waited for a train! An automobile would have seemed The dragon of which Bunyan dreamed, As through the rude highways it steamed! An X-ray shining through the heart, Revealing every hidden part, He would have cursed as "Satan's art." He ate and drank and breathed at will, But not a microbe found to chill His courage or his pulses still! Mosquitoes sang the same sweet lay That one may hear them sing to-day, But had no fever to convey! And so they raised their ancient tune, And sipped the blood of March or June, Nor asked if one were an "immune!" No daily paper brought its word Of great debate in London heard Some hours before the thing occurred! With hatchet keen he felled the oaks, But Washington's historic strokes And Carrie Nation's temperance hoax, To him were glories yet unborn, Nor wakened envy, praise or scorn For hero crowned nor dame forlorn! It was his rule to summer here, Rather than seek for Newport's cheer Or bathe at Narragansett Pier. He never heard the rhythmic fire Of odes and idyls that inspire From Tennyson's immortal lyre! He never trod the heathered height With Burns, and caught his fancies bright, Nor shared the "Cotter's Saturday Night." 159 And Walter Scott ne'er charmed him so With "Kenilworth" or "Ivanhoe," That he forgot to plough and sow! Mark Twain ne'er moved him to a laugh, Nor Dudley Warner bade him quaff His humor-pathos, half and half! And David Harum, wise and good, Ne'er bade him sell as best he could A horse that "without hitching" stood! He never kenned the brilliant sparks Of "Mr. Dooley's" sage remarks, Nor viewed Sir Richard Carvel's "larks." America's great authors all Appeared upon this radiant ball Too late to answer to his call. He never knew the struggle great As Presidential candidate Ascends to his imperial state! He never visited by stealth, Nor shook the hand nor drank the health Of Governor of the Commonwealth. In fact, as we his life recall, So destitute as to appall, We wonder that he lived at all! And yet, the vital things he saw, The majesty of moral law, Ordained of God without a flaw; The law of man, that subtle force That binds the cultured and the coarse, As sacred as its heavenly source; These he essential did esteem, And sought to realize his dream Of law enthroned and made supreme! The depths of human love he knew, The passion pure and sweet and true That yields its object homage due. 160 As lover he was all aiiarne, As husband faithful to his dame, As father, worthy of the name! And in his soul a faith sublime Reached far beyond the bounds of time And dared the throne eternal climb! "The man with the hoe," but not a "clod, His face he lifted from the sod, A lover and a child of God! He worshiped as he trod the strand Or turned the furrows of his land Or sowed the seed with liberal hand! The daisies still with dewdrops wet, The lilies 'mid the grasses set, The roses in the wildwood met; The iris by the river's brink, The flute-notes of the bobolink, The shaded brooklet'3 pensive clink; The daybreak rose, the sunset gold, The spheres along the midnight rolled, Of an Almighty Sovereign told! Of Him he ever stood in awe; His radiant righteousness he saw And feared the thunders of His law! And far above the earthly sod, Yet brightening all the paths he trod, Behold! the kingdom of his God! Upon these shores he saw it rise Decked with the glory of the skies, And voiced with notes of Paradise! Perhaps it was presumptuous sin To think that he might enter in To that which the elect should win! And yet he prayed and struggled on, The flesh denied, and hoped anon That he celestial robes might don! 161 Meanwhile the humble pioneer The firm foundations settled here On which we've rested many a year! Ever to his convictions true, He builded better than he knew The while the busy decades flew. And then he passed, his labor done, Aud at the setting of the sun Found God's eternal day begum! Two centuries and more have cast Their shadow on the dial, Since here the settler lived his life Of hardship and of trial. Still rise the hills that he beheld, The river seeks the sea, The tides still kiss the verdant isles, The skies bend lovingly! And yet, how greatly changed is all!