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86
THE LIBERTY TREE.
A NATIONAL ODE.
Columbia's Birthday again we behold:
Its glory no tempest hath shaded!
The laurel she wears, growing thrifty and old,
Hath buds ever fresh o'er her brow to unfold,
But shows not a leaf that is faded!
While sweetly her songs from the blest and free,
Sounding, swelling,
Go over the land and the sea.
Its glory no tempest hath shaded!
The laurel she wears, growing thrifty and old,
Hath buds ever fresh o'er her brow to unfold,
But shows not a leaf that is faded!
While sweetly her songs from the blest and free,
Sounding, swelling,
Go over the land and the sea.
When few were their forces, and mighty their foes,
With spirits unfettered, undaunted,
To burst from their bondage our fathers arose,
Resolved that, while peril and death must oppose,
The Liberty Tree should be planted.
In opening the soil as they braved the sword,
Gushing, streaming,
Their blood in the furrow was poured!
With spirits unfettered, undaunted,
To burst from their bondage our fathers arose,
Resolved that, while peril and death must oppose,
The Liberty Tree should be planted.
In opening the soil as they braved the sword,
Gushing, streaming,
Their blood in the furrow was poured!
Then, knowing its cost, do we cherish the Tree,
Unblighted and fair as we found it:
Our Eagle soars off from its top; and we see
The Dove nestled close 'mid its verdure, as we,
In millions, rejoicing, surround it.
It ever hath been, to this hallowed hour,
Spreading, towering!
At once in the fruit and the flower.
Unblighted and fair as we found it:
Our Eagle soars off from its top; and we see
The Dove nestled close 'mid its verdure, as we,
In millions, rejoicing, surround it.
It ever hath been, to this hallowed hour,
Spreading, towering!
At once in the fruit and the flower.
87
And proudly we number that Patriot band,
Whose names, as a bright constellation,
When darkness and storm were aboad in the land,
Appeared on the roll, where effulgent they stand,
Announcing the birth of a nation!
They lighted to Freedom an altar-fire,
Burning, flaming,
As Tyranny's funeral pyre.
Whose names, as a bright constellation,
When darkness and storm were aboad in the land,
Appeared on the roll, where effulgent they stand,
Announcing the birth of a nation!
They lighted to Freedom an altar-fire,
Burning, flaming,
As Tyranny's funeral pyre.
Columbia's Birthday her children must keep,
Through time, with no cloud on its glory;
And, long as in ashes our fathers shall sleep,
Where they broke the ground, may posterity reap,
And tell o'er the harvest their story!
An ever green vine let their memory be,
Blooming, climbing,
And clasping the Liberty Tree!
Through time, with no cloud on its glory;
And, long as in ashes our fathers shall sleep,
Where they broke the ground, may posterity reap,
And tell o'er the harvest their story!
An ever green vine let their memory be,
Blooming, climbing,
And clasping the Liberty Tree!
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