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264

MY FATHER'S SWORD.

I

My father's sword upon the wall
Has slumber'd since his death;
Oh, give it me, for now 'tis time
To throw away the sheath.
Too long I've been content to wear
The laurels that he won;
Give me the sword—and it shall gain
New laurels for his son!

II

My father's sword! Oh, blame me not,
Though tears bedew the steel;
Though nerveless now may fall my arm,
It is not fear I feel.
I weep to think how oft his hand
Hath laid aside that sword,
While he hath stoop'd to kiss my brow,
And breathe some gentle word.

III

My father's sword!—this silken knot
My own dear mother wove.
Take hence the weapon—let it grace
The halls she used to love.
Give me another,—if my prayer
In after years be heard—
It shall not be unfit to hang
Beside my father's sword.