Poem by Julia Ward Howe

The Senator's Return

How shall we greet thee when thy task is o'er,
Thy martyr task of weariness and pain,
When eyes that wept thy suffering, stark and sore,
Shall see thee, stately and erect again.

There should go forth, to crown thy lordly way,
Glad youths and maidens, and the elders sage,
While garlands green and milk-white robes recall
The peaceful triumphs of the Golden Age.

We shall be touched with heavenly Charity,
And walk as Brothers, reconciled and glad,
Yielding a mournful pity to the wretch,
Whose weapon gave the bloody accolade.

With something of the dear and tender joy
With which we think to greet our own above,
The pain and sharpness of the struggle o'er,
And every vexing doubt resolved in Love;

Shall we behold thee, scatheless of the Grave,
But with the halo of the Just in sight;
Bearing a rescued Goddess in thine arms,
Thyself immortal, wed with deathless Right.

1. My Last Dance
2. Tribute to Oliver Wendell Holmes
3. Mother's Day Proclamation
4. The Flag
5. As It Seems

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