When the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind HourGreatening and darkening as it hurried on,She left the Heaven of Heroes and came downTo make a man to meet the mortal need.She took the tried clay of the common road --Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,Dasht through it all a strain of prophecy,Tempered the heap, with thrill of human tearsThen mixt a laughter with the serious stuff.Into the shape she breathed a flame to lightThat tender, tragic, ever-changing face;And laid on him a sense of the Mystic Powers,Moving -- all husht -- behind the mortal vail.Here was a man to hold against the world,A man to match the mountains and the sea.
The color of the ground was in him, the red earth,The smack and tang of elemental things:The rectitude of patience of the cliff,The good-will of the rain that loves all leaves,The friendly welcome of the wayside well,The courage of the bird that dares the sea,The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn,The pity of the snow that hides all scars,The secrecy of streams that make their wayUnder the mountain to the rifted rock,The tolerance and equity of lightThat gives as freely to the shrinking flowerAs to the great oak flaring to the wind --To the grave's low hill as to the MatterhornThat shoulders out the sky. Sprung from the West,He drank the valorous youth of a new world.The strength of virgin forests braced his mind,The hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul.His words were oaks in acorns; and his thoughtsWere roots that firmly gript the granite truth.
Up from log cabin to the Capitol,One fire was on his spirit, one resolve --To send the keen ax to the root of wrong,Clearing a free way for the feet of God,The eyes of conscience testing every stroke,To make his deed the measure of a man.He built the rail-pile as he built the State,Pouring his splendid strength through every blow:The grip that swung the ax in Illinois,Was on the pen that set a people free.
So came the Captain with the mighty heart;And when the judgment thunders split the house,Wrenching the rafters from their ancient rest,He held the ridgepole up, and spikt againThe rafters of the Home. He held his place --Held the long purpose like a growing tree --Held on through blame and faltered not at praise --Towering in calm rough-hewn sublimity.And when he fell in whirlwind, he went downAs when a lordly cedar, green with boughs,Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
[1901 version]
When the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour,Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,She bent the strenuous Heavens and came downTo make a man to meet the mortal need.She took the tried clay of the common road --Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy;Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.It was a stuff to wear for centuries,A man that matched the mountains, and compelledThe stars to look our way and honor us.
The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;The tang and odor of the primal things --The rectitude and patience of the rocks;The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;The courage of the bird that dares the sea;The justice of the rain that loves all leaves;The pity of the snow that hides all scars;The loving-kindness of the wayside well;The tolerance and equity of lightThat gives as freely to the shrinking weedAs to the great oak flaring to the wind --To the grave's low hill as to the MatterhornThat shoulders out the sky.
And so he came.From prairie cabin up to Capitol,One fair Ideal led our chieftain on.Forevermore he burned to do his deedWith the fine stroke and gesture of a king.He built the rail-pile as he built the State,Pouring his splendid strength through every blow,The conscience of him testing every stroke,To make his deed the measure of a man.
So came the Captain with the mighty heart:And when the step of Earthquake shook the house,Wrenching the rafters from their ancient hold,He held the ridgepole up, and spiked againThe rafters of the Home. He held his place --Held the long purpose like a growing tree --Held on through blame and faltered not at praise.And when he fell in whirlwind, he went downAs when a kingly cedar green with boughsGoes down with a great shout upon the hills,And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
