| WHEN the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour | |
| Greatening and darkening as it hurried on, | |
| She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down | |
| To make a man to meet the mortal need. | |
| She took the tried clay of the common road— | 5 |
| Clay warm yet with the genial heat of earth, | |
| Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy; | |
| Tempered the heap with thrill of human tears; | |
| Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff. | |
| Into the shape she breathed a flame to light | 10 |
| That tender, tragic, ever-changing face. | |
| 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: | 15 |
| The rectitude and 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; | 20 |
| The pity of the snow that hides all scars; | |
| The secrecy of streams that make their way | |
| Beneath the mountain to the rifted rock; | |
| The tolerance and equity of light | |
| That gives as freely to the shrinking flower | 25 |
| As to the great oak flaring to the wind— | |
| To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn | |
| That shoulders out the sky. | |
| |
| Sprung from the West, | |
| The strength of virgin forests braced his mind, | 30 |
| The hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul. | |
| Up from log cabin to the Capitol, | |
| One fire was on his spirit, one resolve:— | |
| To send the keen axe to the root of wrong, | |
| Clearing a free way for the feet of God. | 35 |
| And evermore he burned to do his deed | |
| With 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, | 40 |
| To make his deed the measure of a man. | |
| |
| 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 spiked again | 45 |
| The 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 down | |
| As when a lordly cedar, green with boughs, | 50 |
| Goes down with a great shout upon the hills, | |
| And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. | |
