The Fathers of our Fathers

Written February 24, 1898, on reading the latest news concerning the battleship Maine, blown up in Havana harbor, February 15th.


I.

        The fathers of our fathers they were men!
What are we who now stand idle while we see our seamen slain?
    Who behold our flag dishonored, and still pause!
Are we blind to her duplicity, the treachery of Spain?
    To the rights, she scorns, of nations and their laws?
Let us rise, a mighty people, let us wipe away the stain!
    Must we wait till she insult us for a cause?
        The fathers of our fathers they were men!


II.

        The fathers of our fathers they were men!
Had they nursed delay as we do? had they sat thus deaf and dumb,
    With these cowards compromising year by year?
Never hearing what they should hear, never saying what should come,
    While the courteous mask of Spain still hid a sneer!
No! such news had roused their natures like a rolling battle-drum
    God of earth! and God of heaven! do we fear?
        The fathers of our fathers they were men!


III.

        The fathers of our fathers they were men!
What are we who are so cautious, never venturing too far!
    Shall we, at the cost of honor, still keep peace?
While we see the thousands starving and the struggling Cuban star,
    And the outraged form of Freedom on her knees!
Let our long, steel ocean-bloodhounds, adamantine dogs of war,
    Sweep the yellow Spanish panther from the seas!
        The fathers of our fathers they were men!

Madison Julius Cawein

Madison Julius Cawein was born on March 23, 1865, in Louisville, Kentucky and died on December 8, 1914. Known as the “Keats of Kentucky,” his poetry often focused on nature, mythology, and the lush landscapes of his home state. Throughout his lifetime, Cawein published more than 30 books of poetry. He is remembered for his vivid and descriptive style and his ability to capture the beauty of the natural world. His works provide a window into the pastoral and often mystical world of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Madison Julius Cawein

Rose And Redbird - A Faerytale.

Madison Julius Cawein, Simple Poetry

At Moonrise

Madison Julius Cawein, Simple Poetry

The Golden Hour

Madison Julius Cawein, Simple Poetry

In A Garden

Madison Julius Cawein, Simple Poetry

English

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I.

Behold! we have gathered together our battleships near and afar;
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II.

Behold! I have stood on the mountains, and this was writ in the sky: -
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(Song of the American Sons of Labour.)


THE SONG.


"O we knew so well, dear Father,
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Swords And Ploughshares

PART I. PRESTO FURIOSO.


Spontaneous Us!
O my Camarados! I have no delicatesse as a diplomat, but I go blind on Libertad!
Give me the flap-flap of the soaring Eagle's pinions!
Give me the tail of the British lion tied in a knot inextricable, not to be solved anyhow!
Give me a standing army (I say 'give me,' because just at present we want one badly, armies being often useful in time of war).

I see our superb fleet (I take it that we are to have a superb fleet built almost immediately);
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The Cumberland

At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay,
    On board of the cumberland, sloop-of-war;
And at times from the fortress across the bay
    The alarum of drums swept past,
    Or a bugle blast
    From the camp on the shore.

Then far away to the south uprose
    A little feather of snow-white smoke,
And we knew that the iron ship of our foes
    Was steadily steering its course
    To try the force
    Of our ribs of oak.

Down upon us heavily runs,
    Silent and sullen, the floating fort;
Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns,
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    With fiery breath,
    From each open port.

We are not idle, but send her straight
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As hail rebounds from a roof of slate,
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Sublime Was The Warning.

Sublime was the warning that Liberty spoke,
And grand was the moment when Spaniards awoke
Into life and revenge from the conqueror's chain.
Oh, Liberty! let not this Spirit have rest,
Till it move, like a breeze, o'er the waves of the west--
Give the light of your look to each sorrowing spot,
Nor, oh, be the Shamrock of Erin forgot
While you add to your garland the Olive of Spain!

If the fame of our fathers, bequeathed with their rights,
Give to country its charm, and to home its delights,
If deceit be a wound, and suspicion a stain,
Then, ye men of Iberia; our cause is the same!
And oh!    may his tomb want a tear and a name,
Who would ask for a nobler, a holier death,
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