Poems of home and country Also, Sacred and Miscellaneous Verse |
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| THE SONS AND THEIR STRUGGLES. |
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 | Poems of home and country |  |
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THE SONS AND THEIR STRUGGLES.
PATRIOT SONS OF PATRIOT SIRES.
The small life, coiled within the seed,—
A promise hid away,—
But dimly heralds what shall be
When comes the perfect day;
But sun, and rain, and frost, and heat
Enrich the fertile fields,
And the small life of earlier years
A waving harvest yields.
A promise hid away,—
But dimly heralds what shall be
When comes the perfect day;
But sun, and rain, and frost, and heat
Enrich the fertile fields,
And the small life of earlier years
A waving harvest yields.
The corn that slumbers in the hill,—
A disk of golden grain,—
Stands up at last, a rustling host,
And covers all the plain;
Who knows to what the infant germ,
In coming seasons, leads,
Or how the golden grain expands,
And mighty armies feeds!
A disk of golden grain,—
Stands up at last, a rustling host,
And covers all the plain;
Who knows to what the infant germ,
In coming seasons, leads,
Or how the golden grain expands,
And mighty armies feeds!
The acorn, in its little cup,
High on the breezy hill,
Waits for the fulness of the times,
Its mission to fulfil,
And year by year grows grand and strong,—
What shall the future be?
A noble forest on the land,
Or navy on the sea.
High on the breezy hill,
Waits for the fulness of the times,
Its mission to fulfil,
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What shall the future be?
A noble forest on the land,
Or navy on the sea.
The bright-eyed boys, who crowd our schools,
The knights of book and pen,
Weary of childish games and moods,
Will soon be stalwart men;
The leaders in the race of life,
The men to win applause,
The great minds, born to guide the State,
The wise, to make the laws.
The knights of book and pen,
Weary of childish games and moods,
Will soon be stalwart men;
The leaders in the race of life,
The men to win applause,
The great minds, born to guide the State,
The wise, to make the laws.
Teach them to guard with jealous care
The land that gave them birth,
As patriot sons of patriot sires,—
The dearest spot of earth;
Teach them the sacred trust to keep,
Like true men, pure and brave,
And o'er them, through the ages, bid
Freedom's fair banner wave.
The land that gave them birth,
As patriot sons of patriot sires,—
The dearest spot of earth;
Teach them the sacred trust to keep,
Like true men, pure and brave,
And o'er them, through the ages, bid
Freedom's fair banner wave.
This poem was written on the 22d day of February, 1894, as the closing patriotic selection of “Beacon Lights of Patriotism.”
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THE CINCINNATAE.
[_]
At meeting of the “Woman's Relief Corps, G. A. R.,” in Boston, August, 1890, the author of “America” suggested the organization of a Society similar to that which, under the name of “Cincinnati” represents the “Sons of the Revolution.” The suggestion was entertained, and the following responsive tribute was written upon the occasion.
Rouse to defend the land ye love,
Ye stalwart men and brave;
O'er all its breadth, from sea to sea,
Bid Freedom's banner wave.
Ye stalwart men and brave;
O'er all its breadth, from sea to sea,
Bid Freedom's banner wave.
They heard, they stood, in serried ranks
They marched at Freedom's call;
One hope beat high in every heart,
One thought inspired them all.
They marched at Freedom's call;
One hope beat high in every heart,
One thought inspired them all.
Deep in the furrow where it sank,
The plough, ungeared, stood still,
While broader plans and loftier aims,
Waited the freemen's will.
The plough, ungeared, stood still,
While broader plans and loftier aims,
Waited the freemen's will.
So Cincinnatus bravely led
His Roman soldiers, true;
So, fearless, trod through fields of blood
Our Cincinnati too.
His Roman soldiers, true;
So, fearless, trod through fields of blood
Our Cincinnati too.
And who are these, of finer mould,
With loving heart and hand,
Alert to feel, and quick to help,—
A noble female band?
With loving heart and hand,
Alert to feel, and quick to help,—
A noble female band?
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These loving hands have waved farewell
To men to glory led;
These loving eyes, with bitter tears,
Have wept o'er soldiers dead.
To men to glory led;
These loving eyes, with bitter tears,
Have wept o'er soldiers dead.
And when the storm of battle ceased,
'T was theirs to weld the chain,
Whose broken links were scattered wide,
In brotherhood again.
'T was theirs to weld the chain,
Whose broken links were scattered wide,
In brotherhood again.
Their loving voices join to swell
The anthem of the free;
Their loving lips, harmonious, sing,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
The anthem of the free;
Their loving lips, harmonious, sing,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
Hail, mothers, daughters, sisters, wives
Of men to freedom true!
The land redeemed is proud to claim
Our Cincinnatae, too.
Of men to freedom true!
The land redeemed is proud to claim
Our Cincinnatae, too.
THE DAUGHTERS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
[_]
Written at the request of Mrs. Edward Roby, of Chicago, on the gift of an autograph copy of the hymn “America,” to Miss Eugenie Washington, a grand-niece of General Washington, in connection with the First Congress of the Daughters of the American Revolution, held in the City of Washington, June, 1892.
They gathered from the south and north,
The mountains and the sea,
In memory of the men who died,
Martyrs of liberty,—
Men pledged to plant, in this fair land,
A nation of the free;
The mountains and the sea,
In memory of the men who died,
Martyrs of liberty,—
Men pledged to plant, in this fair land,
A nation of the free;
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Who gave their wealth, who gave their blood,
And gave them not in vain;
And history spreads its halo round
Where rest the patriot slain.
Where Freedom's glorious spirit throbbed,
That spirit throbs again.
And gave them not in vain;
And history spreads its halo round
Where rest the patriot slain.
Where Freedom's glorious spirit throbbed,
That spirit throbs again.
The harvest sown in blood and tears
A grateful nation reaps;
A hallowed jubilee of love
The land they rescued keeps,
And o'er the green fields where they died
Its fragrant tribute heaps.
A grateful nation reaps;
A hallowed jubilee of love
The land they rescued keeps,
And o'er the green fields where they died
Its fragrant tribute heaps.
From east to west, from south to north,
From tossing sea to sea,
They breathe, in tones that love inspires,
“Sweet land of liberty,”
Singing, in joyful harmony,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
From tossing sea to sea,
They breathe, in tones that love inspires,
“Sweet land of liberty,”
Singing, in joyful harmony,
“My country, 't is of thee.”
The daughters of the good and brave
Shall keep their memory well;
And age to youth, and sire to son,
The grand old tale shall tell;
And woman's tears shall consecrate
The rich fields where they fell.
Shall keep their memory well;
And age to youth, and sire to son,
The grand old tale shall tell;
And woman's tears shall consecrate
The rich fields where they fell.
I see them where above them bends
The one o'er-arching sky;
I hear the tune from Northern throats,
I hear the South reply:
One heart, one home, one pulse, one land;
And one, we live or die.
The one o'er-arching sky;
I hear the tune from Northern throats,
I hear the South reply:
One heart, one home, one pulse, one land;
And one, we live or die.
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Sisters, accept this grateful pledge;
Our hopes, our hearts are one;
Or south, or north, naught shall divide,—
We live beneath one sun.
Peace breathes, in ecstasy of love;
The goal we seek is won.
Our hopes, our hearts are one;
Or south, or north, naught shall divide,—
We live beneath one sun.
Peace breathes, in ecstasy of love;
The goal we seek is won.
Davenport, Iowa, March 4, 1893.
FLING OUT THE BANNER.
Fling out the banner on the breeze,
Shake out each starry fold;
Summon the stalwart soldiers forth,
The mighty and the bold,—
The bell of Freedom from its tower
Its solemn call has tolled.
Shake out each starry fold;
Summon the stalwart soldiers forth,
The mighty and the bold,—
The bell of Freedom from its tower
Its solemn call has tolled.
Marshal the legions for the fight,
The youthful and the brave;
Stand for the noble and the right,
The glorious Union save;
Stand for the cause for which their blood
Our patriot fathers gave.
The youthful and the brave;
Stand for the noble and the right,
The glorious Union save;
Stand for the cause for which their blood
Our patriot fathers gave.
Above the clouds the brilliant sky
Shines in immortal blue;
And light, like Heaven's approving smile,
Streams in its glory through.
Be patient, till the strife is o'er;
Have faith to dare and do.
Shines in immortal blue;
And light, like Heaven's approving smile,
Streams in its glory through.
Be patient, till the strife is o'er;
Have faith to dare and do.
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Bear on our banner, let it tell
The triumph of the brave;
On every breeze that sweeps our hills,
In glory let it wave,
O'er all the land, o'er all our streams,
O'er every soldier's grave.
The triumph of the brave;
On every breeze that sweeps our hills,
In glory let it wave,
O'er all the land, o'er all our streams,
O'er every soldier's grave.
A year of battles! not in vain
This contest of the free;
This rousing of the nation's heart,
Like storms that rouse the sea,—
The fiery test has but refined
The love of liberty.
This contest of the free;
This rousing of the nation's heart,
Like storms that rouse the sea,—
The fiery test has but refined
The love of liberty.
Then fling the banner to the wind,
The emblem of the free;
Strike the sweet harp-tones that proclaim
The reign of liberty,
And bid the melody rebound
From every trembling key.
The emblem of the free;
Strike the sweet harp-tones that proclaim
The reign of liberty,
And bid the melody rebound
From every trembling key.
And count each star that studs the blue,
Whate'er the past has been,
A wayward wanderer welcomed back
To fill its place again,—
A loving band of sister-lights,
Just like the old thirteen.
Whate'er the past has been,
A wayward wanderer welcomed back
To fill its place again,—
A loving band of sister-lights,
Just like the old thirteen.
Strike not one jewel from the crest
The loving mother wore;
Reset the gems upon her breast,
Each where it shone before;
Clasp in the glorious cynosure
The entire dear thirty-four.
The loving mother wore;
Reset the gems upon her breast,
Each where it shone before;
Clasp in the glorious cynosure
The entire dear thirty-four.
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WAVE THE FLAG ON HIGH.
Wave the new flag, exultant, o'er the land;
Spread out its folds of beauty toward the sea;
Bid softest winds its blood-bought charms expand;
Hail it with shouts,—the banner of the free!
Spread out its folds of beauty toward the sea;
Bid softest winds its blood-bought charms expand;
Hail it with shouts,—the banner of the free!
Bears it the brilliant stripes of gleaming white?—
Our cause is righteous, and our aim is pure.
Bears it the red?—we battle for the right;
Red blood may flow, but Freedom shall endure.
Our cause is righteous, and our aim is pure.
Bears it the red?—we battle for the right;
Red blood may flow, but Freedom shall endure.
Bears it the blue?—to Heaven, our high appeal
In Christian gratitude and faith we raise;
And every star, a new-made State, shall seal
Our fervent trust in God,—our joyful praise.
In Christian gratitude and faith we raise;
And every star, a new-made State, shall seal
Our fervent trust in God,—our joyful praise.
Count all the stars, the stripes,—both white and red,—
Where'er on sea or land the flag is seen;
They tell how God our growing States has led,—
Stars, thirty-seven, and stripes, the “old thirteen.”
Where'er on sea or land the flag is seen;
They tell how God our growing States has led,—
Stars, thirty-seven, and stripes, the “old thirteen.”
Wave then, fair banner! men may pass away,—
No mind can guess the changes yet to be,—
But thou, in beauty, hold thy blessed way,
Our flag of peace, our symbol of the free.
No mind can guess the changes yet to be,—
But thou, in beauty, hold thy blessed way,
Our flag of peace, our symbol of the free.
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THE PINE AND THE PALM.
AN ALLEGORY OF 1861–65.
On Northern hills where bleak winds blow,
And crystalled branches twine,
Stood, in its never-fading green,
A strong and stately pine.
The evening came with balmy breath,
And gold and purple dyes;
And glowing noon its heat diffused
From summer's ardent skies;
And tempests roared, with crashing might,—
But little cared the tree,
Rocked by the storms, it sang for joy
Its own sweet minstrelsy.
And crystalled branches twine,
Stood, in its never-fading green,
A strong and stately pine.
The evening came with balmy breath,
And gold and purple dyes;
And glowing noon its heat diffused
From summer's ardent skies;
And tempests roared, with crashing might,—
But little cared the tree,
Rocked by the storms, it sang for joy
Its own sweet minstrelsy.
On sunnier slopes, in milder airs,
In endless summer's calm,
In fragrant beauty towered on high
A graceful, nodding palm;
Proudly it tossed its emerald head,
Wrapped in its haughty scorn,
Like roses in the lovelit bower,
Girt by the bristling thorn.
In endless summer's calm,
In fragrant beauty towered on high
A graceful, nodding palm;
Proudly it tossed its emerald head,
Wrapped in its haughty scorn,
Like roses in the lovelit bower,
Girt by the bristling thorn.
At length the winds grew fierce and loud,
As through the palm they sung,
And reddening clouds around its head
A fiery lustre hung;
An angry cadence on the air
Seemed fitfully to float,
And pine and palm, as if in ire,
With wild, discordant note,
Driven by the tempest, answered each,
In sounds like rushing fire,
As if some demon in his wrath
Had swept his breaking lyre.
As through the palm they sung,
And reddening clouds around its head
A fiery lustre hung;
An angry cadence on the air
Seemed fitfully to float,
And pine and palm, as if in ire,
With wild, discordant note,
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In sounds like rushing fire,
As if some demon in his wrath
Had swept his breaking lyre.
The sound passed on. A wreath of light
Came like a white-winged dove;
Hovered like angels in their flight,
A messenger of love;
Waved its bright form o'er pine and palm,
And touched them as it passed,—
The storm was laid, and notes of love
Came singing on the blast.
Came like a white-winged dove;
Hovered like angels in their flight,
A messenger of love;
Waved its bright form o'er pine and palm,
And touched them as it passed,—
The storm was laid, and notes of love
Came singing on the blast.
The flaming cloud dissolved in air;
It lost its fiery hue,
And quenched the crimson of its cheek
In heaven's immortal blue;
Peace shed again along the hills
Its breath of fragrant balm,—
The waving palm-tree blessed the pine,
The waving pine, the palm.
It lost its fiery hue,
And quenched the crimson of its cheek
In heaven's immortal blue;
Peace shed again along the hills
Its breath of fragrant balm,—
The waving palm-tree blessed the pine,
The waving pine, the palm.
THE MORNING COMETH.
[_]
These verses were written in 1862, under the never-faltering conviction that out of battle-struggle would come a crowning peace which would bind in closer bonds than ever a reconciled and prosperous people.
It IS COMING, it is coming!
As comes the blessed rain,
When the burning heat and dryness
Have scorched the waving grain.
We hail the early promise,—
'T is not in vain to wait;
If the help serves God's great purpose,
It never comes too late.
As comes the blessed rain,
When the burning heat and dryness
Have scorched the waving grain.
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'T is not in vain to wait;
If the help serves God's great purpose,
It never comes too late.
It IS COMING, it is coming,
As comes the blessed dew
On the weary, fainting flowers
When the noon-tide heat is through;
It comes in silent sweetness,
To comfort and to bless,—
We never hear its coming,
But it blesses none the less.
As comes the blessed dew
On the weary, fainting flowers
When the noon-tide heat is through;
It comes in silent sweetness,
To comfort and to bless,—
We never hear its coming,
But it blesses none the less.
It IS COMING, it is coming!
As the giant, rested, wakes,
As o'er the distant hill-tops
The morning redness breaks.
While the soldier on his picket,
His solemn vigil keeps,
The light already glimmers
On the highest rugged steeps.
As the giant, rested, wakes,
As o'er the distant hill-tops
The morning redness breaks.
While the soldier on his picket,
His solemn vigil keeps,
The light already glimmers
On the highest rugged steeps.
It IS COMING, yes, 't is coming!
But, O prophet, poet, when?
We have lavished forth like water,
Our treasure and our men.
We watch the cloudy pillar
That guides our devious way,
And, blinded in the darkness,
God bids our faith delay.
But, O prophet, poet, when?
We have lavished forth like water,
Our treasure and our men.
We watch the cloudy pillar
That guides our devious way,
And, blinded in the darkness,
God bids our faith delay.
160
It IS COMING, it is coming!
Love can calm the maddened brain,
And the palm-tree, and the pine-tree,
Interlace their boughs again;
The corn and cotton ripen
For the loyal and the brave,
And free men till the acres
Of a land without a slave.
Love can calm the maddened brain,
And the palm-tree, and the pine-tree,
Interlace their boughs again;
The corn and cotton ripen
For the loyal and the brave,
And free men till the acres
Of a land without a slave.
It IS COMING, it is coming,
Peace o'er all the land shall rest,
With a glory and a beauty
Like evening in the west;
The noon-tide brightness lingers,
But God can give it glow;
The forest sleeps in acorns,
But God can make it grow.
Peace o'er all the land shall rest,
With a glory and a beauty
Like evening in the west;
The noon-tide brightness lingers,
But God can give it glow;
The forest sleeps in acorns,
But God can make it grow.
MEMORIAL HONORS.
Grateful, the pious feast we keep
In memory of the dead;
And, where the valiant soldiers sleep,
Strew honors o'er their bed.
In memory of the dead;
And, where the valiant soldiers sleep,
Strew honors o'er their bed.
As spring-flowers deck the silent earth,
As stars the skies illume,
These loving tributes, lo! we bring
To grace each hallowed tomb.
As stars the skies illume,
These loving tributes, lo! we bring
To grace each hallowed tomb.
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The land they saved their honor keeps,
While dark oppression cowers;
And every tear affection weeps
Is crystalled into flowers.
While dark oppression cowers;
And every tear affection weeps
Is crystalled into flowers.
The deeds they wrought; the truths they sealed;
Their memory, dear in death,—
Are fragrant as the blooming field,
Or summer's perfumed breath!
Their memory, dear in death,—
Are fragrant as the blooming field,
Or summer's perfumed breath!
God of the living and the dead,
Like amaranths on the tomb,
The trust for which their blood was shed
Keep in immortal bloom.
Like amaranths on the tomb,
The trust for which their blood was shed
Keep in immortal bloom.
THE EVE OF DECORATION DAY.
[_]
In the parlor of one of the Daughters of the American Revolution several young ladies sang as they made wreaths for the following day, and these stanzas record the incident.
Sweet in the innocence of youth,
Born of the brave and free,
They wove fair garlands while they sang,
“My country, 't is of thee;”
How every bosom swelled with joy,
And thrilled with grateful pride,
As, fond, the whispering cadence breathed,
“Land where my fathers died.”
Born of the brave and free,
They wove fair garlands while they sang,
“My country, 't is of thee;”
How every bosom swelled with joy,
And thrilled with grateful pride,
As, fond, the whispering cadence breathed,
“Land where my fathers died.”
Fair flowers in sweet bouquets they tied,—
Breaths from the vales and hills,—
While childish voices poured the strain,
“I love thy rocks and rills;”
Each face grew radiant with the thought,
“Land of the noble free;”
Each voice seemed reverent, as it trilled
“Sweet land of liberty.”
Breaths from the vales and hills,—
While childish voices poured the strain,
“I love thy rocks and rills;”
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“Land of the noble free;”
Each voice seemed reverent, as it trilled
“Sweet land of liberty.”
And bud, and bloom, and leaf they bound,
And bade the living keep,
Unharmed and pure, the cherished graves
Where brave men calmly sleep.
And thus while infant lips begin
To lisp “sweet Freedom's song,”
Manhood's deep tones, from age to age,
Shall still “the sound prolong.”
And bade the living keep,
Unharmed and pure, the cherished graves
Where brave men calmly sleep.
And thus while infant lips begin
To lisp “sweet Freedom's song,”
Manhood's deep tones, from age to age,
Shall still “the sound prolong.”
I hailed the promise of the scene;
Gladness was in the strain;
The glorious land is safe, while love
Still swells the fond refrain.
And what shall be our sure defence,
Who guards our liberty?
Not men, not arms alone,—we look,
“Our father's God, to Thee.”
Gladness was in the strain;
The glorious land is safe, while love
Still swells the fond refrain.
And what shall be our sure defence,
Who guards our liberty?
Not men, not arms alone,—we look,
“Our father's God, to Thee.”
DECORATION DAY.
Strew the fair garlands where slumber the dead;
Ring out the strains, like the swell of the sea,—
Heartfelt the tribute we lay on each bed.
Sound o'er the brave the refrain of the free;
Sound the refrain of the loyal and free;
Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed;—
Waves the starred banner from sea-coast to sea,—
Grateful the living, and honored the dead.
Ring out the strains, like the swell of the sea,—
Heartfelt the tribute we lay on each bed.
Sound o'er the brave the refrain of the free;
Sound the refrain of the loyal and free;
Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed;—
Waves the starred banner from sea-coast to sea,—
Grateful the living, and honored the dead.
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Dear to each heart are the names of the brave;
Resting in glory, how sweetly they sleep;
Dewdrops at evening fall soft on each grave,
Kindred and strangers bend fondly to weep,—
Kindred bend fondly and drooping eyes weep
Tears of affection o'er every green grave;
Fresh are their laurels and peaceful their sleep;
Love still shall cherish the noble and brave.
Resting in glory, how sweetly they sleep;
Dewdrops at evening fall soft on each grave,
Kindred and strangers bend fondly to weep,—
Kindred bend fondly and drooping eyes weep
Tears of affection o'er every green grave;
Fresh are their laurels and peaceful their sleep;
Love still shall cherish the noble and brave.
Peace o'er this land, o'er these homes of the free,
Brood evermore with her sheltering wing.
God of the nation, our trust is in Thee;
God, our Protector, our Guide, and our King,
God, our Protector, our Guide, and our King,
Thou art our refuge, our hope is in Thee;
Strong in Thy blessing, and safe 'neath Thy wing,
Peace shall encircle these homes of the free.
Brood evermore with her sheltering wing.
God of the nation, our trust is in Thee;
God, our Protector, our Guide, and our King,
God, our Protector, our Guide, and our King,
Thou art our refuge, our hope is in Thee;
Strong in Thy blessing, and safe 'neath Thy wing,
Peace shall encircle these homes of the free.
PRECIOUS LIVES.
Breathe balmy airs, ye fragrant flowers,
O'er every silent sleeper's head;
Ye crystal dews and summer showers,
Dress in fresh green each lowly bed.
O'er every silent sleeper's head;
Ye crystal dews and summer showers,
Dress in fresh green each lowly bed.
Strew loving offerings o'er the brave,
Their country's joy, their country's pride;
For us their precious lives they gave;
For Freedom's sacred cause they died.
Their country's joy, their country's pride;
For us their precious lives they gave;
For Freedom's sacred cause they died.
Each cherished name its place shall hold,
Like stars that gem the azure sky;
Their deeds, on history's page enrolled,
Are sealed for immortality.
Like stars that gem the azure sky;
Their deeds, on history's page enrolled,
Are sealed for immortality.
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Long, where on Glory's field they fell,
May Freedom's spotless banner wave;
And fragrant tributes, grateful, tell,
Where live the free,—where sleep the brave.
May Freedom's spotless banner wave;
And fragrant tributes, grateful, tell,
Where live the free,—where sleep the brave.
Bridgeport, Conn., 1865.
CHERISHED NAMES.
We wreathe with flowers the peaceful graves,
Where low our fallen comrades sleep;
While sunbeams smile, and verdure waves,
And dews of evening o'er them weep.
Where low our fallen comrades sleep;
While sunbeams smile, and verdure waves,
And dews of evening o'er them weep.
Honored-and loved, each cherished name;
In vain, ye have not lived nor died;
A grateful country keeps your fame,—
A sacred trust,—her joy and pride.
In vain, ye have not lived nor died;
A grateful country keeps your fame,—
A sacred trust,—her joy and pride.
God bless the land ye nobly saved,—
Where'er your blood has left its stain,
Where'er your conquering banners waved,
May peace prevail and Freedom reign.
Where'er your blood has left its stain,
Where'er your conquering banners waved,
May peace prevail and Freedom reign.
OUR FALLEN COMRADES.
Softly, their labors done, the patriots rest,
Honored in life, and in their memory blest:
Living, they earned and won a glorious name;
Dying, they found at once immortal fame.
Spring o'er their relics strews its fragrant flowers,
Smiles in the sunshine, weeps in dews and showers;
And summer spreads its freshest, sweetest bloom,
Green as their memory, o'er their honored tomb.
And Nature wraps around them, where they rest,
The dear old flag, in dyes she loves the best:
Blue, in the starry arch that bends above,
Like mothers bowed to kiss the babes they love;
White, when the earth is mantled o'er with snow,
A bridal honor for the brave below;
And red, when round their couch sweet autumn weaves
A burnished beauty with her fiery leaves.
The glorious banner wraps the rolling year,
And spreads its folds around the sleepers here;
As thousands weep the heroes who have bled,
For each a tear, a blessing on each head.
From granite crypts kind Nature fondly rears
The pillar hewed by love, and wet with tears,
The fitting record of the men who stood
True to the right, 'mid fire and death and blood;
And history writes their names high on her scroll,
Heroes of granite will, but loving soul.
Honored in life, and in their memory blest:
Living, they earned and won a glorious name;
Dying, they found at once immortal fame.
Spring o'er their relics strews its fragrant flowers,
Smiles in the sunshine, weeps in dews and showers;
And summer spreads its freshest, sweetest bloom,
Green as their memory, o'er their honored tomb.
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The dear old flag, in dyes she loves the best:
Blue, in the starry arch that bends above,
Like mothers bowed to kiss the babes they love;
White, when the earth is mantled o'er with snow,
A bridal honor for the brave below;
And red, when round their couch sweet autumn weaves
A burnished beauty with her fiery leaves.
The glorious banner wraps the rolling year,
And spreads its folds around the sleepers here;
As thousands weep the heroes who have bled,
For each a tear, a blessing on each head.
From granite crypts kind Nature fondly rears
The pillar hewed by love, and wet with tears,
The fitting record of the men who stood
True to the right, 'mid fire and death and blood;
And history writes their names high on her scroll,
Heroes of granite will, but loving soul.
Stand, massive record, as the heroes stood,
A tower of strength, when blood cried out for blood.
The names engraven on the rock are thine;
The men who bore them, grateful hearts enshrine.
Dewdrop, and rain, and grateful tear may dry;
But noble deeds, once done, can never die.
Though marble, shattered, may betray its trust,
And pile and column crumble into dust,
Heroic deeds a deathless pile shall raise;
A land redeemed preserves their lasting praise.
Not here alone their monument is reared,
To memory sacred, and by love endeared;
Where'er the oppressed the bonds of sorrow wear,
Wher'er the slave lifts up his humble prayer,
Their high memorial lives, in fetters riven,—
A pile whose base is earth, whose crown is heaven.
These were the men who firm in battle stood;
The men who shrunk not from the flame or flood;
Who gave to Freedom's cause their noblest powers,—
Born for the nation's need, they died for ours.
Weep for their memory!—would they had not died!
Sing for their memory!—'t is the nation's pride.
They bore the toil; they earned the grand eclat;
Proclaim their memory with the glad hurrah!
A tower of strength, when blood cried out for blood.
The names engraven on the rock are thine;
The men who bore them, grateful hearts enshrine.
Dewdrop, and rain, and grateful tear may dry;
But noble deeds, once done, can never die.
Though marble, shattered, may betray its trust,
And pile and column crumble into dust,
Heroic deeds a deathless pile shall raise;
A land redeemed preserves their lasting praise.
Not here alone their monument is reared,
To memory sacred, and by love endeared;
Where'er the oppressed the bonds of sorrow wear,
Wher'er the slave lifts up his humble prayer,
Their high memorial lives, in fetters riven,—
A pile whose base is earth, whose crown is heaven.
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The men who shrunk not from the flame or flood;
Who gave to Freedom's cause their noblest powers,—
Born for the nation's need, they died for ours.
Weep for their memory!—would they had not died!
Sing for their memory!—'t is the nation's pride.
They bore the toil; they earned the grand eclat;
Proclaim their memory with the glad hurrah!
No hostile foot this sacred soil shall tread;
No hostile banner wave above the dead;
No warlike clarion break their sweet repose,
Calm as the dewdrops, resting on the rose,—
But grateful tears their relics shall bedew;
The loved, the brave, the trusted and the true,
Mothers and maidens, gathered round the tomb,
Shall sigh, and sing the soldier's welcome home;
Mourning the fallen,—to their country given,—
With sweet will yielding to the will of Heaven.
“O grief unspeakable!”—yet Faith can see
Rifts in the cloud; “Our country, 't is for thee,”
And thus resigned, with calm and holy trust,
Mother and maiden leave the hallowed dust,
With woman's faithful heart their grief refrain,
Willing to make fresh sacrifice again.
No hostile banner wave above the dead;
No warlike clarion break their sweet repose,
Calm as the dewdrops, resting on the rose,—
But grateful tears their relics shall bedew;
The loved, the brave, the trusted and the true,
Mothers and maidens, gathered round the tomb,
Shall sigh, and sing the soldier's welcome home;
Mourning the fallen,—to their country given,—
With sweet will yielding to the will of Heaven.
“O grief unspeakable!”—yet Faith can see
Rifts in the cloud; “Our country, 't is for thee,”
And thus resigned, with calm and holy trust,
Mother and maiden leave the hallowed dust,
With woman's faithful heart their grief refrain,
Willing to make fresh sacrifice again.
Breathe soft, O winds, around this treasured trust;
Keep, holy earth, this loved and honored dust;
Sing your sweet pæans, birds of varied wing,—
In heaven's free air, let warbled freedom ring.
Keep nightly watch, ye stars, above their bed,
Teaching the living, smiling o'er the dead;
Though hid by tempests, gently still ye shine,
Keeping in heaven's blue field your march divine.
Though clouds may darken, though the tempest lowers,
Heaven keeps its stars unharmed, as we shall ours;
Clouds cannot quench them; God's great word once given,
Their light shall flash again, full in mid-heaven;
And every star that keeps its shining way
Glimmers prophetic of the coming day.
Lift your tall crests, ye trees, in verdant pride,
A hundred storms your sturdy trunks have tried;
Tempests have beat in fury round your head,
But still ye cheer the living, shade the dead.
So when the raging blast has spent its power,
And clouds no more in angry blackness lower,
The nation, saved, shall bloom in peace anew;
Its genial shades the weary pilgrim woo;
Thousands repose beneath each sheltering bough,
Made stronger by the blasts that toss it now;
The anxious watcher mourn no kindred slain;
The soldier seek his home and babes again;
The sword be sheathed, and war's dread tumult cease;
And spotless banners wave in joy and peace.
Keep, holy earth, this loved and honored dust;
Sing your sweet pæans, birds of varied wing,—
In heaven's free air, let warbled freedom ring.
Keep nightly watch, ye stars, above their bed,
Teaching the living, smiling o'er the dead;
Though hid by tempests, gently still ye shine,
Keeping in heaven's blue field your march divine.
167
Heaven keeps its stars unharmed, as we shall ours;
Clouds cannot quench them; God's great word once given,
Their light shall flash again, full in mid-heaven;
And every star that keeps its shining way
Glimmers prophetic of the coming day.
Lift your tall crests, ye trees, in verdant pride,
A hundred storms your sturdy trunks have tried;
Tempests have beat in fury round your head,
But still ye cheer the living, shade the dead.
So when the raging blast has spent its power,
And clouds no more in angry blackness lower,
The nation, saved, shall bloom in peace anew;
Its genial shades the weary pilgrim woo;
Thousands repose beneath each sheltering bough,
Made stronger by the blasts that toss it now;
The anxious watcher mourn no kindred slain;
The soldier seek his home and babes again;
The sword be sheathed, and war's dread tumult cease;
And spotless banners wave in joy and peace.
Chicago,—Decoration Day.
BURIAL OF GENERAL GRANT.
Take from our hands, O faithful earth,
And safely keep this treasured trust!
The land redeemed proclaims his worth,
The nation weeps his honored dust.
And safely keep this treasured trust!
The land redeemed proclaims his worth,
The nation weeps his honored dust.
Unnumbered tongues his deeds shall praise;
Unnumbered hearts revere his name;
His crown, a wreath which ne'er decays,
His fame is an immortal fame.
Unnumbered hearts revere his name;
His crown, a wreath which ne'er decays,
His fame is an immortal fame.
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Love hovers round his funeral urn;
A nation's banner o'er him waves,—
So slept the ancient heroes, borne
With regal pomp to honored graves.
A nation's banner o'er him waves,—
So slept the ancient heroes, borne
With regal pomp to honored graves.
Rest, patriot, soldier, calmly rest!
No sound thy deep repose shall break,
Till the day dawn in glory dressed,
Till the immortal morning wake.
No sound thy deep repose shall break,
Till the day dawn in glory dressed,
Till the immortal morning wake.
August 18, 1885.
THE STUDENT SOLDIERS.
HARVARD'S DEAD.
They fought on many a crimsoned field;
They sleep in many a glen;
They marched to glory and to death,
And came not home again:
But Science claims them for her roll,—
Her roll of honored men.
They sleep in many a glen;
They marched to glory and to death,
And came not home again:
But Science claims them for her roll,—
Her roll of honored men.
Some in the sunny days of youth,
And some in ripening age,
Went forth, with valiant hearts and hopes,
To breast the conflict's rage;
And history every name records
On her immortal page.
And some in ripening age,
Went forth, with valiant hearts and hopes,
To breast the conflict's rage;
And history every name records
On her immortal page.
Weep at the shrines where once they knelt,
And where the heroes sleep;
Weep where the funeral pomp proceeds;
At vacant firesides, weep.
When did thy sickle, mighty Death,
So precious harvests reap?
And where the heroes sleep;
Weep where the funeral pomp proceeds;
At vacant firesides, weep.
When did thy sickle, mighty Death,
So precious harvests reap?
169
And sing a pæan o'er their dust,
A requiem for the brave;
Sing hymns of cheerful melody
Above each soldier's grave;
In solemn joy, with festal folds,
Let the old banners wave.
A requiem for the brave;
Sing hymns of cheerful melody
Above each soldier's grave;
In solemn joy, with festal folds,
Let the old banners wave.
Freedom on every bloody field,
Through them, new triumphs won;
Her honored wreaths are on the brow
Of every favorite son;
And age is reckoned, not by years,
But deeds of valor done.
Through them, new triumphs won;
Her honored wreaths are on the brow
Of every favorite son;
And age is reckoned, not by years,
But deeds of valor done.
While Fame inscribes ten thousand names
Along her pillared nave,
Of patriot-sons, and sires who sleep
In Glory's star-gemmed grave,
Of all the list fair Science claims
The bravest of the brave.
Along her pillared nave,
Of patriot-sons, and sires who sleep
In Glory's star-gemmed grave,
Of all the list fair Science claims
The bravest of the brave.
January 8, 1864.
AFTER THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL.
And so we hide our dead in silent shade,And hasten back to life, and life's parade;
Plunge into duty, grind in labor's mill,
Till the eye sees not, and the heart is still;
Weep each reverse and shout each victory,
And breathe our benisons, dear flag, on thee.
Living or dying, nation of the free,
Our hopes, our hearts, our lives, are all with thee.
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“SLEEP, COMRADES, SLEEP!”
In thousand shaded valleys,
On thousand sunny hills,
In thousands of still alleys,
Beside the rippling rills,—
Who, who can tell the numbers
Of green graves where they sleep?
But peace breathes o'er their slumbers;
Love shall their ashes keep.
On thousand sunny hills,
In thousands of still alleys,
Beside the rippling rills,—
Who, who can tell the numbers
Of green graves where they sleep?
But peace breathes o'er their slumbers;
Love shall their ashes keep.
Sleep, comrades, in your glory!
Sweet be your honored rest;
Thousands shall tell the story
How ye, your high behest,
Bravely in love fulfilling,
Gave up your lives, to be
A sacrifice most willing,—
The seal of liberty.
Sweet be your honored rest;
Thousands shall tell the story
How ye, your high behest,
Bravely in love fulfilling,
Gave up your lives, to be
A sacrifice most willing,—
The seal of liberty.
Oft as the spring-time, breathing
Sweet odors from fair flowers,
With dewy pearls comes, wreathing
Our bright and peaceful bowers,
We bring the first and fairest,
In honor to the brave,—
The choicest and the rarest,
To deck the soldier's grave.
Sweet odors from fair flowers,
With dewy pearls comes, wreathing
Our bright and peaceful bowers,
We bring the first and fairest,
In honor to the brave,—
The choicest and the rarest,
To deck the soldier's grave.
God of our country, o'er us
Thy shield of glory spread!
Go Thou in love before us;
Direct the paths we tread.
Faithful in every duty,
To us Thy grace be given,
And then, the crowning beauty
Of fadeless wreaths in heaven.
Thy shield of glory spread!
Go Thou in love before us;
Direct the paths we tread.
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To us Thy grace be given,
And then, the crowning beauty
Of fadeless wreaths in heaven.
“LIVING STILL.”
FOR THE CLASS OF 1829.
Broken and bruised, from fields of strife,
A remnant saved retires,—
Few, but still warm with their young life,—
To stir the old campfires;
How many marched with banners gay,
Who now, among the slain,
Sleep their last sleep at setting day,
And come no more again!
A remnant saved retires,—
Few, but still warm with their young life,—
To stir the old campfires;
How many marched with banners gay,
Who now, among the slain,
Sleep their last sleep at setting day,
And come no more again!
We con the old familiar list
Of boys, grown gray-haired men;
Names and old faces, long time missed,
We see them,—boys again.
The ancient roll, whose magic date
Falls pleasant on the ear,
Rich as an argosy, its freight
Grows richer every year.
Of boys, grown gray-haired men;
Names and old faces, long time missed,
We see them,—boys again.
The ancient roll, whose magic date
Falls pleasant on the ear,
Rich as an argosy, its freight
Grows richer every year.
Dear is the roll of fresh young hearts
Which started for the fray,
Eager and strong, their honored parts,
On life's broad field to play.
Fond memory wakes them,—each and all;
We call them, name by name;
Or long to stand, or soon to fall,
They come as erst they came.
Which started for the fray,
Eager and strong, their honored parts,
On life's broad field to play.
Fond memory wakes them,—each and all;
We call them, name by name;
Or long to stand, or soon to fall,
They come as erst they came.
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While spring-time lingered in our sky,
Some early passed away;
Some, when the sun of life rode high,
And poured his noontide ray;
And some—as autumn fruits, more late,
In mellow ripeness fall—
Fell,—and like watchers at the gate,
The rest await the call.
Some early passed away;
Some, when the sun of life rode high,
And poured his noontide ray;
And some—as autumn fruits, more late,
In mellow ripeness fall—
Fell,—and like watchers at the gate,
The rest await the call.
Unchanged on memory's scroll they live,—
Each face and form we see;
Time, which mars all things, does but give
Our dreams intensity;
Like paintings which old mouldings guard,
Drawn with a master's skill,
Ranged in old catalogues, and starred,
To us they're living still.
Each face and form we see;
Time, which mars all things, does but give
Our dreams intensity;
Like paintings which old mouldings guard,
Drawn with a master's skill,
Ranged in old catalogues, and starred,
To us they're living still.
ON THE ERECTION OF A SOLDIERS' MONUMENT.
Take these choice treasures, gentle earth,
And shield them in thy faithful breast,
Gathered like gems of priceless worth,
And brought among thy dead to rest.
And shield them in thy faithful breast,
Gathered like gems of priceless worth,
And brought among thy dead to rest.
Take this new honor reared in love,
Where sleep the trusted and the brave,
Pointing the mourner's faith above,
To Him who takes, to Him who gave.
Where sleep the trusted and the brave,
Pointing the mourner's faith above,
To Him who takes, to Him who gave.
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Round this fair shaft let summer leave
Its fragrant airs, at morn and even,
And golden clouds in sunlight weave
Pathways of glory into heaven.
Its fragrant airs, at morn and even,
And golden clouds in sunlight weave
Pathways of glory into heaven.
Again the flag of peace shall float
O'er all the land from sea to sea;
O'er all the land shall swell the note
Of Freedom's final Jubilee.
O'er all the land from sea to sea;
O'er all the land shall swell the note
Of Freedom's final Jubilee.
We build the shrine, we sing the brave,
Yet own how vain are human boasts;
In God alone is power to save,—
Our trust is in the Lord of hosts.
Yet own how vain are human boasts;
In God alone is power to save,—
Our trust is in the Lord of hosts.
Newton, April, 1864.
MEMORIAL HYMN.
The God of battles praise;
Pæans of honor raise,
With heart and song.
God is our shield and tower,
Our strength in danger's hour;
To Him all might and power
And praise belong.
Pæans of honor raise,
With heart and song.
God is our shield and tower,
Our strength in danger's hour;
To Him all might and power
And praise belong.
174
Here, O memorial, stand,—
Here, where the patriot band
Battled so well;
Here, where the nation's pride
The rushing storm defied;
Here, where the true and tried,
Unconquered, fell.
Here, where the patriot band
Battled so well;
Here, where the nation's pride
The rushing storm defied;
Here, where the true and tried,
Unconquered, fell.
Tears for the loved and lost;
Joy for the land which cost
Such sacrifice.
Fond memory, grateful, weeps
Where each dead martyr sleeps,
And love her vigil keeps,—
Love never dies.
Joy for the land which cost
Such sacrifice.
Fond memory, grateful, weeps
Where each dead martyr sleeps,
And love her vigil keeps,—
Love never dies.
Sound, glorious trump of fame,
Salute each honored name,
Praise for the brave:
Tell what high deeds were done,
What triumphs Freedom won,—
God was their help alone,
Mighty to save.
Salute each honored name,
Praise for the brave:
Tell what high deeds were done,
What triumphs Freedom won,—
God was their help alone,
Mighty to save.
THE ILLINOIS NINETEENTH REGIMENT AND CAPTAIN BREMNER.
A song of the Highland Guards,
Souls brave and true,
Born for the times of bitter strife,
When in the balance hung
The nation's life;
And men inspired to dare and do
Resolved to press the conflict through.
Souls brave and true,
Born for the times of bitter strife,
When in the balance hung
The nation's life;
And men inspired to dare and do
Resolved to press the conflict through.
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A song of the Highland Guards,
Prompt and prepared;
First to espouse the righteous cause,
First rising to defend
The land, the laws,
With patriot hearts and bosoms bared,
What toils they bore! What hardships shared!
Prompt and prepared;
First to espouse the righteous cause,
First rising to defend
The land, the laws,
With patriot hearts and bosoms bared,
What toils they bore! What hardships shared!
A song of the brave Nineteenth,
Noted and known,
With them the noble Highland Guard,
Eager for honor's post,
Kept watch and ward,—
Foremost for deeds of glory done,
For battles fought, for victories won.
Noted and known,
With them the noble Highland Guard,
Eager for honor's post,
Kept watch and ward,—
Foremost for deeds of glory done,
For battles fought, for victories won.
A song for the brave Nineteenth
And Bremner's Band;
Huntsville and Mission Ridge their praise.
How oft they saved the day
In fierce affrays!
Victor and vanquished, hand to hand,
Mighty to fight, or firm to stand.
And Bremner's Band;
Huntsville and Mission Ridge their praise.
How oft they saved the day
In fierce affrays!
Victor and vanquished, hand to hand,
Mighty to fight, or firm to stand.
A song for the brave Nineteenth,—
Calls, loud and long,
Summon the bravest to the front.
“Where is the old Nineteenth?”
Listen! their song!
They muster, prompt to do or die,—
They come! they strike!—The foemen fly!
Calls, loud and long,
Summon the bravest to the front.
“Where is the old Nineteenth?”
Listen! their song!
They muster, prompt to do or die,—
They come! they strike!—The foemen fly!
A song for the brave Nineteenth;
The colors wave
Where shell and shot,—a cruel rain,—
Smite down—once, twice, again—
The true, the brave.
The men who bore the flag may die;
But Bremner waves its folds on high.
The colors wave
176
Smite down—once, twice, again—
The true, the brave.
The men who bore the flag may die;
But Bremner waves its folds on high.
THE TWENTY-FIFTH G. A. R. ENCAMPMENT, 1893.
They came from many a happy home,
Those brave and valiant men,
From palace, cottage, shop, and farm,
From mountain, vale, and glen,
Ready to save the land, or die,
And ne'er return again.
Those brave and valiant men,
From palace, cottage, shop, and farm,
From mountain, vale, and glen,
Ready to save the land, or die,
And ne'er return again.
They learned, in their young life, to love
The anthem of the free;
One theme their childish souls inspired,—
The tale of liberty;
Joyful, their infant lips had sung
“My country, 't is of thee.”
The anthem of the free;
One theme their childish souls inspired,—
The tale of liberty;
Joyful, their infant lips had sung
“My country, 't is of thee.”
They came by thousands, as the tides
Into the harbor pour;
Each brow was set, each stalwart from
The air of purpose wore.
They answered to the call, “We come,
Three hundred thousand more.”
Into the harbor pour;
Each brow was set, each stalwart from
The air of purpose wore.
They answered to the call, “We come,
Three hundred thousand more.”
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Fearless, they faced the rushing storm,—
Sons of the brave and free;
In summer's heat and winter's chill,
Alike on land and sea,
Their souls were throbbing with the pulse
Of love and liberty.
Sons of the brave and free;
In summer's heat and winter's chill,
Alike on land and sea,
Their souls were throbbing with the pulse
Of love and liberty.
Firm on the fields of mortal strife
In serried ranks they stood,
Patient to bear, patient to wait,
Alike in fire and flood.
“The Union must,—it shall,—be saved
Though it should cost our blood.”
In serried ranks they stood,
Patient to bear, patient to wait,
Alike in fire and flood.
“The Union must,—it shall,—be saved
Though it should cost our blood.”
Some in the bloom of early youth,
Slain in the battle, fell;
Some found again their happy homes,
Where peace and freedom dwell,—
But wreathed as conquerors, or dead,
We love them still,—'t is well.
Slain in the battle, fell;
Some found again their happy homes,
Where peace and freedom dwell,—
But wreathed as conquerors, or dead,
We love them still,—'t is well.
Some with their cherished kindred sleep,
Some in an unmarked grave,
Enriching by their honored dust
The land they died to save;
And wild birds and the sighing wind
Chant requiems o'er the brave.
Some in an unmarked grave,
Enriching by their honored dust
The land they died to save;
And wild birds and the sighing wind
Chant requiems o'er the brave.
O land, the best of all the lands
On which the sun has shone,
The purest, noblest heritage
The sons of men have known,
Still hold thy reign from sea to sea,
In queenly grace, alone.
On which the sun has shone,
The purest, noblest heritage
The sons of men have known,
Still hold thy reign from sea to sea,
In queenly grace, alone.
178
Blest be the men whose fervent faith,
Unwavering, met the gale;
Who passed the storm of war, unscathed,
And live to tell the tale,
Men of our love, our hearts, our hopes,—
Hail, the Grand Army, hail!
Unwavering, met the gale;
Who passed the storm of war, unscathed,
And live to tell the tale,
Men of our love, our hearts, our hopes,—
Hail, the Grand Army, hail!
Peace spreads her angel wings abroad
From sea to distant sea;
O'er all the land one banner floats,
The flag of liberty;
And all her millions swell one strain,—
The chorus of the free.
From sea to distant sea;
O'er all the land one banner floats,
The flag of liberty;
And all her millions swell one strain,—
The chorus of the free.
THE VETERANS.
Sad, but yet glad, our thoughts recall
The days of woe, and blood, and strife,
When thousands rushed, to stand, or fall,
For Freedom and the nation's life,
The days of woe, and blood, and strife,
When thousands rushed, to stand, or fall,
For Freedom and the nation's life,
Hunger and thirst, and leaden hail,
And frost, and heat, and rain, and dew,
And hopes deferred, like springs that fail
In summer's drought, our forces knew.
And frost, and heat, and rain, and dew,
And hopes deferred, like springs that fail
In summer's drought, our forces knew.
The hurried march, the lonely rest;
The trenches where we laid our dead;
The tangled paths our footsteps pressed;
The arms that ached, the feet that bled;
The trenches where we laid our dead;
The tangled paths our footsteps pressed;
The arms that ached, the feet that bled;
179
The picket, on his silent beat;
The foeman's gun with stealthy flash;
The fields where men were mowed like wheat;
The sweeping cannon's deadly crash,—
The foeman's gun with stealthy flash;
The fields where men were mowed like wheat;
The sweeping cannon's deadly crash,—
How vividly they all return,—
Scenes which the soul can ne'er forget!
Like quenchless watch-fires still they burn,—
'T was there that death and glory met.
Scenes which the soul can ne'er forget!
Like quenchless watch-fires still they burn,—
'T was there that death and glory met.
O land we love, united land!
O'er thee one flag of freedom waves;
Living, our hosts one people stand,
And freemen sleep in freemen's graves.
O'er thee one flag of freedom waves;
Living, our hosts one people stand,
And freemen sleep in freemen's graves.
In God we trust,—our fathers' God;
Our people spread from sea to sea;
We hear Thy voice, we heed Thy nod;
Keep us one people, brave and free.
Our people spread from sea to sea;
We hear Thy voice, we heed Thy nod;
Keep us one people, brave and free.
Speak to our hearts in peace and love;
Lead us as by the prophet's rod;
Our honor one, O, let us prove
One land, one people, for one God!
Lead us as by the prophet's rod;
Our honor one, O, let us prove
One land, one people, for one God!
May 24, 1891.
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ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
[_]
This Memorial Poem was written for the Twentieth Anniversary of the death of President Lincoln, Springfield, Illinois, April 15th, 1885.
Heroic statesman, hail!
Thy honored name,
With instrument and song, we laud,
And poets lays;
How every mountain top, and sheltered vale,
And rock and stream,
And lisping tongue of infancy and age,
And manhood's prime and woman's love,
Combine thy honored name to praise!
Thy honored name,
With instrument and song, we laud,
And poets lays;
How every mountain top, and sheltered vale,
And rock and stream,
And lisping tongue of infancy and age,
And manhood's prime and woman's love,
Combine thy honored name to praise!
As to Anchises' tomb,
With reverent love, pious Æneas came,
Intent, with festal rites
To crown his father's fame,—
So we, with grateful reverence, come to pay
This loving tribute at the sacred shrine,
The statesman wise, the martyr prince,
The peerless man,
And on his tomb our fragrant garlands lay.
With reverent love, pious Æneas came,
Intent, with festal rites
To crown his father's fame,—
So we, with grateful reverence, come to pay
This loving tribute at the sacred shrine,
The statesman wise, the martyr prince,
The peerless man,
And on his tomb our fragrant garlands lay.
Like the wild eagle's flight,
When from his rocky height,
Down on the plain he swoops, free as the air,—
Born with a soul of fire,
Born to be free,
Patient in toil, and danger, and alarm,
He ventured all for love of liberty,
And helped the lowly in that bliss to share.
When from his rocky height,
Down on the plain he swoops, free as the air,—
Born with a soul of fire,
Born to be free,
Patient in toil, and danger, and alarm,
He ventured all for love of liberty,
And helped the lowly in that bliss to share.
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Grandly he loved and lived;
Not his own age alone
Bears the proud impress of his sovereign mind.
Down the long march of history,
Ages and men shall see
What one great soul can be,
What one great soul can do,
To make a nation true,—
To raise the weak,
The lost to seek,
To be a ruler and a father too;
No scheming tool,
No slave to godless rule,
Gracious, efficient, meek, sublime, refined.
Not his own age alone
Bears the proud impress of his sovereign mind.
Down the long march of history,
Ages and men shall see
What one great soul can be,
What one great soul can do,
To make a nation true,—
To raise the weak,
The lost to seek,
To be a ruler and a father too;
No scheming tool,
No slave to godless rule,
Gracious, efficient, meek, sublime, refined.
Ambitious,—not of wealth,
Nor power, nor place;
His aim, a nobler race;
His title eminent,—An honest man.
His, to lift up the rude;
His, to be great as good,
And good as great;
His, to stem error's flood;
His, but to help and bless;
His, to work righteousness,
And save the state.
Nor power, nor place;
His aim, a nobler race;
His title eminent,—An honest man.
His, to lift up the rude;
His, to be great as good,
And good as great;
His, to stem error's flood;
His, but to help and bless;
His, to work righteousness,
And save the state.
Brave, self-reliant, wise,
Calm in emergencies,
Steady, alike, to wait, and prompt to move;
In counsel, great and safe;
Prudent to plan;
Righteous to deal with sin;
Prone, less to force than win;
Strong in his own stern will, and strong in God;
Conquering, alone, to bless,—
A loving man.
Calm in emergencies,
Steady, alike, to wait, and prompt to move;
In counsel, great and safe;
Prudent to plan;
Righteous to deal with sin;
Prone, less to force than win;
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Conquering, alone, to bless,—
A loving man.
Firm, but yet merciful;
In pity bountiful;
Calmly considerate, serenely just;
Nobly forgiving to the fallen foe,—
He, the meek sufferer from Oppression's blow,
Repaying ill with good,
E'en as the sandal-wood
Bathes with rare perfume the sharp axe that smites;
Unflinching for the right,
Whate'er might come,
And, until death,
Fervent, decided, faithful to his trust.
In pity bountiful;
Calmly considerate, serenely just;
Nobly forgiving to the fallen foe,—
He, the meek sufferer from Oppression's blow,
Repaying ill with good,
E'en as the sandal-wood
Bathes with rare perfume the sharp axe that smites;
Unflinching for the right,
Whate'er might come,
And, until death,
Fervent, decided, faithful to his trust.
Great souls can never die:
Death and decay's damp fingers
Waste but the mortal;
A nobler life spreads its far vista wide,
Beyond death's portal.
Like an unfading light
The life work lingers.
The hero dies; statesman and soldier fall;
The nation finds new life,
And prosperous years, and wealth, and peace,
And hearts at rest, and grander aims,
And righteousness,
And souls that dare to be,
Just as God made them,—free;
And he who falls, crushed in the bitter strife,
Lives magnified, exalted, ever lives;
His work bears fruit immortal.
Death and decay's damp fingers
Waste but the mortal;
A nobler life spreads its far vista wide,
Beyond death's portal.
Like an unfading light
The life work lingers.
The hero dies; statesman and soldier fall;
The nation finds new life,
And prosperous years, and wealth, and peace,
And hearts at rest, and grander aims,
And righteousness,
And souls that dare to be,
Just as God made them,—free;
And he who falls, crushed in the bitter strife,
Lives magnified, exalted, ever lives;
His work bears fruit immortal.
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So the great sun, majestic, ploughs his way
Through clouds, and storms, and dim eclipse,
And winter's cold and summer's heat;
And, nightly, dips
His flaming disc in the broad western sea,
But scatters light and blessing all the day.
Setting, he leaves the world
Richer and better for his light and love;
Warmer, more fertile, more benign;
Sets, but to rise, on other lands, and shine
Forever, in the galaxy divine.
Through clouds, and storms, and dim eclipse,
And winter's cold and summer's heat;
And, nightly, dips
His flaming disc in the broad western sea,
But scatters light and blessing all the day.
Setting, he leaves the world
Richer and better for his light and love;
Warmer, more fertile, more benign;
Sets, but to rise, on other lands, and shine
Forever, in the galaxy divine.
Springfield, Ill.
A CENTURY HYMN. 1789–1889.
[_]
This Hymn was written to be sung at the Celebration of the 100th Anniversary of the Inauguration of Washington as President of the United States,—April 30, 1889.
Strengthened and trained by toil and tears,
Born of the bold, the brave and free,
A nation, with its hundred years,
Its tribute brings, O God, to Thee.
Born of the bold, the brave and free,
A nation, with its hundred years,
Its tribute brings, O God, to Thee.
What blessings, from Thy sovereign hand,
What trials, has the century brought!
How has this free and glorious land
Been loved, defended, led, and taught!
What trials, has the century brought!
How has this free and glorious land
Been loved, defended, led, and taught!
Our cautious feet, by night, by day,
Slowly the upward path have trod;
God was our light, and God our stay,
In flood and fire, in grief and blood.
Slowly the upward path have trod;
God was our light, and God our stay,
In flood and fire, in grief and blood.
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So the brave oak, in calm and storm,
Spreads its strong roots and boughs abroad,
Grows grand in grace, and stalwart form,
Honored of men, and loved of God.
Spreads its strong roots and boughs abroad,
Grows grand in grace, and stalwart form,
Honored of men, and loved of God.
The century ends,—our hosts in peace
Hold the broad land, from sea to sea;
And every tongue, and every breeze
Breathes the sweet anthem of the free.
Hold the broad land, from sea to sea;
And every tongue, and every breeze
Breathes the sweet anthem of the free.
Still may the banner of thy love
O'er all our land in glory rest,
Our Heaven-appointed Ægis prove,
And make the coming centuries blest.
O'er all our land in glory rest,
Our Heaven-appointed Ægis prove,
And make the coming centuries blest.
And every star that gems the blue,
And every field for Freedom won,
Shall tell of heroes, firm and true,
And swell the fame of Washington.
And every field for Freedom won,
Shall tell of heroes, firm and true,
And swell the fame of Washington.
[_]
For the same occasion the following stanza was added to the National Hymn, “America,” by its author.
Our joyful hearts to-day,
Their grateful tribute pay,—
Happy and free,
After our toils and fears,
After our blood and tears,
Strong with our hundred years,
O God, to Thee.
Their grateful tribute pay,—
Happy and free,
After our toils and fears,
After our blood and tears,
Strong with our hundred years,
O God, to Thee.
185
MEMORIAL DAY, 1894.
Not costly domes nor marble towers
Shall mark where friendship comes to weep;
Let clustering vines and fragrant flowers
Tell where the nation's heroes sleep.
Shall mark where friendship comes to weep;
Let clustering vines and fragrant flowers
Tell where the nation's heroes sleep.
They rest in many a shaded vale,
By, and beneath, the sounding sea;
The forest-winds their requiem wail,—
The glorious sons of liberty!
By, and beneath, the sounding sea;
The forest-winds their requiem wail,—
The glorious sons of liberty!
Some, in the stalwart years of life;
Some, in the prime of manhood's bloom,—
Unshrinking, joined the bitter strife,
Unconquered, found a soldier's tomb.
Some, in the prime of manhood's bloom,—
Unshrinking, joined the bitter strife,
Unconquered, found a soldier's tomb.
They merit all our hearts can give;
Our praises and our love they claim;
Long shall their precious names survive,
Held sacred by immortal fame.
Our praises and our love they claim;
Long shall their precious names survive,
Held sacred by immortal fame.
Blest be the land for which they fought,—
The land where Freedom's banners wave;
The land by blood and treasure bought,
Where dwell the free, where sleep the brave.
The land where Freedom's banners wave;
The land by blood and treasure bought,
Where dwell the free, where sleep the brave.
Great patriots of the elder time,
Dear patriots of our later days,
Inspired alike by faith sublime,
One trump of fame shall swell your praise.
Dear patriots of our later days,
Inspired alike by faith sublime,
One trump of fame shall swell your praise.
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The patriot sire to patriot son—
O'er the broad land, from sea to sea—
Has left the glorious portion won,
The dear bequest of liberty.
O'er the broad land, from sea to sea—
Has left the glorious portion won,
The dear bequest of liberty.
The picket from his weary tread
Has passed; his silent watch is o'er;
The myriad troops, to battle led,
Shall march o'er fields of blood no more.
Has passed; his silent watch is o'er;
The myriad troops, to battle led,
Shall march o'er fields of blood no more.
They gained what their ambition craved,
Freedom and love to all to bring;
And peace, o'er all the land they saved,
Broods, like the dove, with sheltering wing.
Freedom and love to all to bring;
And peace, o'er all the land they saved,
Broods, like the dove, with sheltering wing.
Honor the memory of the dead,
Where'er the sun of Freedom shines;
Wreathe with fair flowers each sleeper's bed,
Cherished and loved, as holy shrines.
Where'er the sun of Freedom shines;
Wreathe with fair flowers each sleeper's bed,
Cherished and loved, as holy shrines.
MY NATIVE LAND.
We wander far o'er land and sea;
We seek the old and new;
We try the lowly and the great,
The many and the few.
O'er States at hand and realms remote,
With curious quest we roam,
But find the fairest spot on earth
Just in our native home.
We seek the old and new;
We try the lowly and the great,
The many and the few.
O'er States at hand and realms remote,
With curious quest we roam,
But find the fairest spot on earth
Just in our native home.
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We hold communion, high and sweet,
With men in ancient lore;
By day, by night, with reverent eyes,
O'er volumes old we pore,—
But Rome, and Greece, and Orient lands,
And heroes far away,
Great in their times, still lack the charm
That lights our own to-day.
With men in ancient lore;
By day, by night, with reverent eyes,
O'er volumes old we pore,—
But Rome, and Greece, and Orient lands,
And heroes far away,
Great in their times, still lack the charm
That lights our own to-day.
We seek for landscapes, fair and grand,
Seen through sweet summer haze;
Helvetia's mountains, piled with snow,
Italia's sunset rays,
And lake, and stream, and crag, and dell,
And new and fairer flowers,
We own them rich, and fair,—but not
More grand, more fair, than ours.
Seen through sweet summer haze;
Helvetia's mountains, piled with snow,
Italia's sunset rays,
And lake, and stream, and crag, and dell,
And new and fairer flowers,
We own them rich, and fair,—but not
More grand, more fair, than ours.
With solemn air we tread, where trod
The feet of ancient men,
And fill old palaces and courts
With echoing sounds again;
Temple and forum, bath and arch,
Un-earthed, in glory stand,—
These with admiring gaze we view,
But crave our native land.
The feet of ancient men,
And fill old palaces and courts
With echoing sounds again;
Temple and forum, bath and arch,
Un-earthed, in glory stand,—
These with admiring gaze we view,
But crave our native land.
We hear with joy the golden speech
Of men of high renown;
We see with praise the jewelled wealth
Of sceptre, mace, and crown,—
But dearer far the golden words
That made a people free;
And crown and sceptre pale before
A nation's liberty.
Of men of high renown;
We see with praise the jewelled wealth
Of sceptre, mace, and crown,—
But dearer far the golden words
That made a people free;
And crown and sceptre pale before
A nation's liberty.
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O land, where saint and pilgrim came,
With loftiest purpose fraught,
Nurtured in hardship, toil and faith,
O land, divinely taught;
As streams the light from headland tower,
Guide o'er the stormy sea,
So hope, to all the oppressed, beams forth,
Dear native land, from thee.
With loftiest purpose fraught,
Nurtured in hardship, toil and faith,
O land, divinely taught;
As streams the light from headland tower,
Guide o'er the stormy sea,
So hope, to all the oppressed, beams forth,
Dear native land, from thee.
| Poems of home and country | |