Poet's Corner.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume IX, Issue 468, 31 March 1882, Page 5

Poet's Corner.

LONGFELLOW.

The minstrel's voice is songless now, Death's stamp is on that honor'd brow ; No dirge for him, no sigh nor teaT — We'll shout above the poet's bier Excelsior 1 He swept his harp-strings clear and strong 'Til trees became alive with song, And every trembling leaflet stirred To music at his magic word — Excelsior ! He touched a chord, and on the scene Appeared the fair Evangeline In Norman cap and kirtle blue, Acadie's virgin pure and true — Excelsior ! He peopled Strasburg's lofty spire With spirits from the realms of fire, Then put a soul in every bell To triumph o'er the powers of hell — Excelsior ! Across the harp his fingers ran, And Plymouth's martial Puritan Stepp'd into life, and madly strove With Alden in the game of love — Excelsior 1 He struck out, as he passed along, From sledge and anvil sparks of song, Until the forge, 'neath chestnut tree, Was filled with manly minstrelsy — Excelsior ! He gathered from the Northland plains OM echoes wild of Indian strains ; He beautified the songs of yore, Then gave them to the woods once more — Excelsior ! He gave new music to each rill, He clothed the prairie and the hill With rich romance ; each forest pine Shook with new melody divine — Excelsior ! A grand old bard, with spotless page, An honour to his land and age, Full ripe for Heav'n, has passed away ; And Nature sings above his clay — Excelsior ! Thomas Bracken. Morning Herald.