The lion's cub | ||
AT WASHINGTON.
What constitutes a State? Not arms, nor arts,Stout sinews, nor the will that makes them strong;
It is upbuilded in heroic hearts,
Self-circling from a more than spheral song.
Before it, like light clouds, the years disperse,
Parting to-day above this stately dome,
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More tragic issues than dispeopled Rome.
Behold yon marble shaft that cleaves the skies,
Far-seen beyond the circuit of the hills;
And gathered here a host with reverent eyes,
Whose depths, unsunned, the light of freedom fills,
And he whom these have chosen—if not great,
Great through their choice, who were, and are, the State.
The lion's cub | ||