 | Western windows and other poems |  |
171
THE BRONZE STATUE—APRIL, 1861.
Uplifted when the April sun was down,Gold-lighted by the tremulous, fluttering beam,
Touching his glimmering steed with spurs in gleam,
The Great Virginia Colonel into town
Rode, with the scabbard, emptied, on his thigh,
The Leader's hat upon his head, and lo!
The old still manhood in his face aglow,
And the old generalship up in his eye!
“O father!” said I, speaking in my heart,
“Though but thy bronzéd form is ours alone,
And marble lips here in thy chosen place,
Rides not thy spirit in to keep thine own,
Or weeps thy Land, an orphan in the mart?”
The twilight dying lit the deathless face.
Washington, D. C.
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