OUR MODERN SHIP OF STATE.
By T. R. Williamson
The ship of State rides proudly still, and grandly
Her ensign floats o’erhead,
Whether tornadoes rave, or smoothly, blandly
Rose zephyrs round her spread. Not as of old in light of freedom’s splendor
Does she confront the world;
Despotic power and lust for gold attend her
Where’er the flag’s unfurled. Her shotted guns that roared when slavery flaunted
A traitor standard high
Have roared again, and Freedom, all affronted
Because the lowly cry,
Pleads up to God against their tyrant roaring.
They slay the weak, the poor,
And round her sides and from her scuppers pouring
Blood stains the ocean o’er. The days are gone when honest indignation
Kindled those guns to flame
Because that from a dark part of our nation
The slave’s deep sobbing came;
Because from cane fields and from rice swamps sounded
The lash, the bloodhound’s bay,
And fierce oaths rankled up o’er forms sore wounded
Thruout the hate-tinged day. No more she offers peace to all peace-seekers,
No odds what land they leave,
So that upon her decks they prove peace-keepers,
And new life aims receive. Now in the East her flag hangs downward drooping
Where o’er the skies afar
Rises a wild flame up the clouds groping
With the fierce growl of war. What is the need and what the guerdon sought for
When we in late days cruise?
Freedom’s the watchword still as when ’twas fought for
By old heroic crews. But Freedom’s mighty self withdraws her presence
From our ship’s decks to-day;
Proud Tyranny’s on board in form and essence,
To rule with grasping sway. O, let the great past float once more before us;
Let our far wanderings cease!
O, let the Christ rule break in grandeur o’er us,
And bless us with its peace! Oakland, Cal. T. R. WILLIAMSON.