University of Virginia Library

THE NINE O'CLOCK GUN.

Some of us in Brooklyn frequently set our watches by the nine p.m. gun at the Navy Yard. Whatever else goes or comes, that great note of welcome and defiance goes sweeping over the city, as if to say, “A blessing for those who come to us with good intent—a grave for those who come to rob or injure us.”

When the dark of the day nestles down,
And the stars hang their lamps in the skies,
When New York, the old world-famous town,
Part in flame part in shadow land lies,
When 'tis time that the children be wed
To the innocent white-pillowed bed,
But grim villains from over the earth
Soon will prowl to dishonor their birth,
Thus wren Night her first finger has pressed
On the brow of the world, gently striving
To soothe into much-needed rest,
With the magics of tender contriving;
Then thund'ring o'er roof-top and tower,
Comes the first mighty stroke of an hour:
Then again, as at set of the sun,
Comes the boom of the nine-o'clock gun.
From the wave-guarded nest where our fighting-boats rest,
When they've homed the far-away seas,
Comes this signal of power at the evening's mid-hour,
That the timid may slumber at ease.
That the hearts of the West may with confidence rest,
In the good will of nations around:
But the mailed hands of might are all readly to smite,
Should that friendship a treach'ry be found.
So God grant that our peace with the world may not cease!
But the flowers of a garden are nought,
Unless, shunning neglect, there is power to protect,
When by cruel desire they are sought.
So let nations “disarm”, if they look for a charm
In the ease of a duty undone.—
Gentle peace is our choice: but we still must rejoice
In the boom of the nine-o'clock gun.