The Hill, an unfinished poem about John Adams
- Colonial-NewYorker
- Aug 18
- 6 min read
N.B. At many points the narrative of this lyric poem breaks off, and is supplied in ellipses and digressive comments. I am likely to not finish it, unless a readership should develop which encourages its completion. Comment below if you would wish for such a thing.
The Hill
The parting of John Adams and Jonathan Sewall.
Anno 1774
The path of friendship had been dually crossed,
Upon a high hill on one summers day.
The die of fate had surely just been tossed
To twine two men, for they had much to say.
So much to say, above the Casco's bay.
They came from diff'rent roads and diff'rent worlds,
With loyalties estranged from man to man,
And in a revolution where they hurled,
Yet in the mind of each a diff'rent plan.
A diff'rent plan on who should rule the land.
A diff'rent plan unfurled in each's mind,
So alien and stranger than the other,
Though they did greet as friends of old, so kind,
As if, the womb, they shared of one same mother.
There were so close as if they were true brothers.
It was early July upon the morn,
On which the men ascended Munjoys hill,
In hopes of healing ties that had been torn,
Or otherwise a friendship must they kill.
So there they stood in morning air so chill.
'Tis nothing like the temper'ture of dawn,
The silent blue air shimmering so cold.
When nightingales then fill the world with song,
A time when men connect to hist'ry old,
A time to retrospect a story bold.
This story told of patriots and blood,
Of Sons of Liberty and eloquence,
Of many towns where warring cries did flood,
The ears of men who straddled there "the fence";
From which one man upon the hill came whence.
That man upon "the fence" was Jon Sewall,
A Tory of such notoriety,
And yet he didn't speak with unkept gall,
He held an air of true propriety.
He was a man of English piety.
Opposed him stood John Adams on defense,
For all those firebrands of liberty.
In the cold air, like sagacious incense,
His breath did rise; a silent liturgy,
And there he stood in mystic reverie.
The two men were so diff'rent yet entwined,
Into a bond that should outlast the ages.
Yet circumstance, conjuncture so combined,
Did rip apart their binds like brittle pages,
Though both were Massachusetts men and sages.
Below them spread the town of Falmouth, Maine,
There bordered by the sun-struck azure sea,
The village rustic and so very plain,
Near foliage as far as eyes can see-
The waters stained with blood and Boston Tea.
They looked upon their view with silent awe,
Both contemplating of the precipice,
To jump or not into a storming maw,
Was both the question and the consequence.
The question raging in their minds's abyss.
For years now past, the Acts of Parliament:
On tea and glass, on paper all arrayed,
On soldiers quartered, legislatures rent,
Had darkened Boston with the English shade,
Her government of virtue thus did fade.
For Jon a monarchy did thus suffice,
And loyal he was to the Royal Crown,
His heart thus warm; though Adams cold as ice,
Upon King George of England did he frown,
And yearn did he to tear the old house down.
O, as Novanglus, did John Adams write,
To call for all the liberties of man,
The dues of nature did he duly fight,
And to the flames of justice did he fan-
O, thus to break from England did he plan.
He stood in stark contrast to Jon Sewall,
His views so plain and clear as they could be:
To tax his countrymen, though large or small,
Without the consent of the English free,
Was something which his soul could not agree.
He stood against it since the very first
Decree sent out across the ocean blue,
Though by the law he would pursue the thirst
To champion the cause he felt thus true-
For of the principles of Locke he drew.
[Describe Jonathan Sewall in a few stanzas as I did John adams. Speak favorably of him, as I do hold him in reverence, but describe his loyalty to the crown as concise as possible]
The two men stood, embracing their own pact,
That formed in Harvard halls when they were young.
Both lawyers out from Boston, near exact,
Except for where their loyalties were strung.
And both into a revolution flung.
[They both had rode the circuit to Falmouth,
Both dressed in jackets long of darkened cloth]
…..
[And then Sewall did pierce the morning air:
"You must subsist from this, my dearest friend",]
……
For he could hear the clarion sound thunder,
And see the patriot thus beat his drum,
He knew inside New England wouldn't blunder,
America's true purpose now had come.
And independency did not seem glum.
…..
[Have John leave his friend to a path opposite him. Describe the path as laden with rose bushes. Yet though it is beautiful he feels saddened to lose his friend: the best in the world.]
……
The pain inside was more than he could bare,
But bare did he this honored punishment,
Tis not though true that he had not a care,
For there inside his heart friendship was spent.
This was the olden patriot's lament.
Though weak and feeble by this blighted blow,
The holy lamp did shine with merriment.
For in this moment his true colors show,
The deepest level of his sentiment,
Derived thus from the purest element.
….
[A love of country did John Adams feel,]
…..
[This is another casualty of war.. ]
[Though time has shown the truth of Adams' faith, talk about the course of the war. How Adams was often right, (say it was a gamble to throw his lot in with the rebel colonies. Yet his gamble paid off) Cite examples in his opinion that the war be decided with French naval power. His defense of America in the treaty of Paris. His securing the relationship to the Dutch. His drafting of the Massachusetts constitution]
…..
The acts and resolves thus has congress laid
Upon the gentry and the citizen,
They, for our liberty and virtue bade,
The colonies from out the darkest prison,
To sing a song of blue and white and crimson.
................
You ask why I recorded this event,
Upon the wings of lovely poetry?
It is because a friendship was thus rent,
Upon an argument on liberty.
Of which I hope I've written properly.
A poet's goal is to collect a flower,
That springs and blossoms from our history.
An edifice of gold, a darling tower,
A scene reflecting life, of lost beauty.
These things of which I wrote thus presently.
Though in this episode is not the whole,
Only in min'ature, which can reflect,
The ties of which were broken for the goal,
Of all true men of honor to protect,
Against all tyranny did they deflect.
The episode above, it can be said,
Can represent all broken families,
Where son did fight his father and thus bled,
A diff'rent blood through all these travesties.
Thus many bonds were cut for polity.
The tale of two upon old Munjoys hill,
Is but a glass through which we can observe,
Where loyalties among all men did fill,
Their once warm heart with stone from hate's reserve,
Under a diff'rent banner would they serve.
The war of independence thus did rend,
The very fabric of tranquility.
The faml'y broken couldn't after mend,
Their loving bond thus thrown in nihility.
This was the war's one dark ability.
So many lost who fought for liberty-
So many friendships rent through polity-
This story we must learn, posterity-
Written in reverence of the memory of John Adams 1735-1826 and Jonathan Sewall 1729-1796
FINIS
Comments