Publication information
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Source: Baltimore Sunday Herald
Source type: newspaper
Document type: poem
Document title: “The Tears of Columbia”
Author(s): anonymous
City of publication: Baltimore, Maryland
Date of publication: 15 September 1901
Volume number: none
Issue number: 2005
Part/Section: 1
Pagination: [6]

“The Tears of Columbia.” Baltimore Sunday Herald 15 Sept. 1901 n2005: part 1, p. [6].
full text
William McKinley (mourning: poetry).
Named persons
Marcus Junius Brutus; Julius Caesar; Charles I (Great Britain and Ireland) [identified as Carlos below]; Oliver Cromwell; William McKinley; Tisiphone.
Authorship of the poem is credited to “Christian Brother” (p. [6]).


The Tears of Columbia



Mourn, Columbia! Helpless mother, mourn!
     Wring thy hands in widowed, hopeless woe;
     Sorrow robes thee—gloom enshrouds thee. Lo!
Dim the feature joy did once adorn;
Melancholic fancies, burning tears
Leave their wrinkles and gnawing fears.
          Mother, in this trying hour,
               Spurn us not, though guilty we,
          Thou the wounded, parent flower,
               We, the tendrils, cling to thee.
          Love us, mother, in thy tears,
          In thy tears, in thy tears.

Are we Roman? Where is Caesar? Where?
     Are we Saxon? Where is Carlos? Blood,
     Purpling veins, that might do monarchs good—
Stabbed him Brutus? Cromwell? Nay, it there
Gushed at worse—Great heart! Fathers! Sank red—
Ebbing life, like sinking sun—sank dead.
          Fold us, mother, in this hour,
               To thy warm and loving breast,
          Chilling clouds of anguish lower,
               Fold us closer to thy breast.
          Mother, fold us in thy tears,
          In thy tears, in thy tears.

Lifeless lay the nation’s heart in dust;
     Muffled clicks o’er seas the tidings bore;
     One contracted brow the nations wore;
Heartbroke went we, heartbroke bent we—Must,
Mighty Father, must we say it? There
Vengeance, vengeance, burdened each one’s prayer.
          Mother, see! Tisiphone.
               Sink not wildly in despair;
       Lo! the vengeful, heartless fury,
               See the serpents in her hair;
          She redress will give thee, mother,
               In thy tears, in thy tears.

Mourn, Columbia! Helpless mother, mourn!
     Fairest gem that shines on triumph’s brow!
     Peerless daughter of renown! Oh, thou!
Where shall those heaven-lighted eyes now turn?
Nations pause to catch the starting tear,
Diadems pale when it doth but appear.
          Mother, round thy brow so tender
               We have wreathed a crown of tears,
          But one sorrow adds a splendor,
               On each tear a pearl appears,
          And art, mother, sweet Columbia,
               Fairer for thy crown of tears,
          Fairer, dearer, loved mother,
               In thy tears, in thy tears.



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