I memorized another poem about courage and devotion, also with a female protagonist like Bess in “The Highwayman”: “Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight,” a poem by Rose Hartwick Thorpe written in 1867. Lincoln couldn’t have read it, but for decades it was a classic in the U.S. Again, the poem celebrated core American values; in fact, I wonder if Alfred Noyes, who wrote “The Highwayman,” was inspired by the earlier poem, since Thorpe’s brave woman was named “Bessie.” “Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight” was Queen Victoria’s favorite poem (British queens like courage, devotion and nobility), inspired music, a play, three silent films, and is referenced in “Ethan Frome” and “Anne of Green Gables” as well as the Tracy-Hepburn comedy “Desk Set.”

In 1883, Hillsdale College conferred on the poet the honorary degree of A.M., because, as its president wrote at the time, “You have written a poem that will never permit the name of its author to die while the English language is spoken.”

Uh, no. In 1883 no one could imagine a U.S. where so-called “manly virtues,” were denigrated and de-emphasized by its leaders, schools and popular culture. Rose’s name is no longer remembered by hardly anyone, and the poem that I memorized and that had a role in turning my interests towards ethics is, I assume, never assigned to students. Here it is—that is the great, forgotten humorist/cartoonist James Thurber‘s amusing illustration of the poem’s climax above:

Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight

England’s sun was slowly setting
O’er the hills so far away,
Filling all the land with beauty
At the close of one sad day;
And the last rays kissed the forehead
Of a man and maiden fair –
He with a step so slow and weakened,
She with sunny, floating hair;
He with sad bowed head, and thoughtful,
She with lips so cold and white,
Struggling to keep back the murmur,
“Curfew must not ring tonight.”

“Sexton,” Bessie’s white lips faltered,
Pointing to the prison old,
With its walls so dark and gloomy –
Walls so dark, and damp, and cold –
“I’ve a love in that prison,
Doomed this very night to die,
At the ringing of the curfew,
And no earthly help is nigh.
Cromwell will not come till sunset”;
And her face grew strangely white,
As she spoke in husky whispers,
“Curfew must not ring tonight.”

“Bessie,” calmly spoke the sexton –
Every word pierced her young heart
Like a thousand gleaming arrows,
Like a deadly poisoned dart –
“Long, long years I’ve rung the curfew
From that gloomy shadowed tow’r;
Every evening, just at sunset,
It has told the twilight hour.
I have done my duty ever.
Tried to do it just and right;
Now I’m old, I will not miss it;
Girl, the curfew rings tonight!”

Wild her eyes and pale her features,
Stern and white her thoughtful brow,
And within her heart’s deep center,
Bessie made a solemn vow.
She had listened while the judges
Read, without a tear or sigh,
“At the ringing of the curfew
Basil Underwood must die.”
And her breath came fast and faster,
And her eyes grew large and bright;
One low murmur, scarcely spoken –
“Curfew must not ring tonight.”

She with light step bounded forward,
Sprang within the old church door,
Left the old man coming slowly,
Paths he’d often trod before;
Not one moment paused the maiden,
But with cheek and brow aglow,
Staggered up the gloomy tower,
Where the bell swung to and fro;
Then she climbed the slimy ladder,
Dark, without one ray of light,
Upward still, her pale lips saying,
“Curfew shall not ring tonight.”

She has reached the topmost ladder,
O’er her hangs the great dark bell,
And the awful gloom beneath her,
Like the pathway down to Hell.
See the ponderous tongue is swinging,
‘Tis the hour of curfew now;
And the sight has chilled her bosom,
Stopped her breath, and paled her brow.
Shall she let it ring?  No, never!
Her eyes flash with sudden light,
As she springs and grasps it firmly –
“Curfew shall not ring tonight.”

Out she swung, far out, the city
Seemed a tiny speck below;
There twixt heaven and earth suspended
As the bell swung to and fro;
And the half-deaf sexton ringing
(Years he had not heard the bell)
And he thought the twilight curfew
Rang young Basil’s funeral knell;
Still the maiden clinging firmly,
Cheek and brow so pale and white,
Still her frightened heart’s wild beating –
“Curfew shall not ring tonight.”

It was o’er – the bell ceased swaying,
And the maiden stepped once more
Firmly on the damp old ladder,
Where for hundred years before
Human foot had not been planted;
And what she this night had done
Should be told in long years after:
As the rays of setting sun
Light the sky with mellow beauty,
Aged sires with heads of white,
Tell the children why the curfew
Did not ring that one sad night.

O’er the distant hills came Cromwell;
Bessie saw him, and her brow,
Lately white with sickening terror,
Glows with sudden beauty now.
At his feet she told the story,
Showed her hands all bruised and torn;
And her sweet young face so haggard,
With a look so sad and worn,
Touched his heart with sudden pity,
Lit his eyes with misty light:
“Go, your love lives!” cried Cromwell:
“Curfew shall not ring tonight!”

And today? Today neither “If,” nor any of the poems mentioned above are taught in our public schools, so none of them are likely to inspire or guide children through life and adulthood. Kipling has been “cancelled,” and the rest are insufficiently woke. Poe’s poems more benign works are sometimes used to teach structure and rhyme, and Robert Frost’s gentle mood pieces like”Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”may make it into the modern classroom. The themes the other poems represent, when poems are used at all, emphasize social justice, rising above racism, “inclusion,” diversity (gotta have the works of gay poets and as few white men as possible), the environment and emotion. Some Shakespeare sonnets make the cut, but nothing featuring bravery, battle or conflict. No more “Horatius at the Bridge,” or “The Charge of the Light Brigade.” Even “Casey at the Bat,” which teaches about arrogance and heroes failing, is out. After all, not many girls play baseball.

I believe that this shift in what rising generations regarded as inspiring poetry and literature has contributed significantly to the weeniefication of American society, culture and priorities.

What poems did you memorize? What poems inspired you?