 | The harp and plow |  |
176
THE MINUTE-MAN.
It was on the banks of Hoosic, in days of long ago,
Where then, as now, its waters bless the farmer as they flow;—
It was in the vale of Hoosic a father and his son
Were dwelling, on the day before the day at Bennington.
Where then, as now, its waters bless the farmer as they flow;—
It was in the vale of Hoosic a father and his son
Were dwelling, on the day before the day at Bennington.
Along the river stretching was spread a fertile plain;
There sire and son were thrusting in the hook amidst the grain;
While near at hand their cottage stood half hidden from the sight,
By trees that wooed the birds by day and sheltered them by night.
There sire and son were thrusting in the hook amidst the grain;
While near at hand their cottage stood half hidden from the sight,
By trees that wooed the birds by day and sheltered them by night.
The good wife plied her needle within the cottage door;
Her babe the cat was watching, catching flies upon the floor;
It was a sweet domestic scene,—sweet both to sire and son,
That blessed them on the day before the day at Bennington.
Her babe the cat was watching, catching flies upon the floor;
It was a sweet domestic scene,—sweet both to sire and son,
That blessed them on the day before the day at Bennington.
177
When suddenly, and vision-like, before them there appeared,
A form of soldier bearing, full of martial presence reared;
He was clad in regimentals—a gleaming sword his pride;
The father heard his errand, and he laid his hook aside.
A form of soldier bearing, full of martial presence reared;
He was clad in regimentals—a gleaming sword his pride;
The father heard his errand, and he laid his hook aside.
Then toward the cottage went the sire, with calm, determined air,
And took from o'er the mantle-tree his gun that rested there;
Farewell! farewell, dear wife! said he; farewell, my children dear!
My country calls aloud for me, I may not linger here!
And took from o'er the mantle-tree his gun that rested there;
Farewell! farewell, dear wife! said he; farewell, my children dear!
My country calls aloud for me, I may not linger here!
‘Weep not for me to break mine heart,’ he spoke like sainted Paul,
Behold I leave you, knowing not what thing shall me befall;
My life is staked for Liberty—in after years, my son,
Remember this, the day before the day at Bennington!
Behold I leave you, knowing not what thing shall me befall;
My life is staked for Liberty—in after years, my son,
Remember this, the day before the day at Bennington!
That son is now an aged man, his head is silvered o'er;
He tills the same plantation that his father tilled before;
And lessons many he has read in life's histronic page,
His words are those of sound import, his wisdom that of age.
He tills the same plantation that his father tilled before;
And lessons many he has read in life's histronic page,
His words are those of sound import, his wisdom that of age.
He 's a lover, too, of Liberty; and to his children tells
This reason why that love so strong within his bosom dwells:
‘Last time I saw my sire alive was when he took his gun,
And left us on the day before the day at Bennington.’
This reason why that love so strong within his bosom dwells:
‘Last time I saw my sire alive was when he took his gun,
And left us on the day before the day at Bennington.’
| The harp and plow | |