 | 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,
103
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 | |