 | Poems of home and country |  |
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;”
162
“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.”
| Poems of home and country | |