New-York daily tribune., 1845-12-13
THE TRIBUNE.
THE.L MBE + NJ Z N.
BY ). C. WHITTIER.

Float his fallen leaves.
Through the tall apd naked timber,
Column.like and old,
Clean the sunsets of November
With their skies OF gold
Der Us, the Southland heading
Streams the gray wild goose;
On the night-frost sounds the rcadinS
OF the stately moose.
Fast the streams with ice are closing,
Colder grows the sky
Soon ON lake and river frozen
Shall our logpilcs lie.
When, with sounds Of smothered thunder
On some night Of rain,
Lake and river break asondcr
Winters weakened chain,
Down the wild March flood shall bear them
To the saw mills wheel
Or where Steam, the slave shall toar them
With bis teeth OF steel.
Be il alright, be it moonlight,
In these Wales below,
when the earliest beam Of sunlight
Streaks the mountains snow,
Crisps the hoar.fros keen and early
To our hurrying feet,
And the forest echoes clearly
All our blows repeat.
When the crystal Ambijeji's
Stretches broad and clear;
And Millnoke,s pine black ridges
Hide the browsing deer;
Where through lakes and wide morasses,
Or through rocky walls,
Swift and strong Penobscot passes,
White with foamy falls.
Where, through clouds, are glimpses given
n -. -.
Rock and forest piled TO heaven
Torn and plowed by slides
Far below the Indian trapping
In the sunshine warm,
Far above the snow.cloud wrapping
Half the peak in storm
Where are messy carpets better
Than the Persian weaves,
And, than Eastern perfumes, sweeter
Seem the fading leaves;
And music wild and solemn,
From the pine trees hight.
Rolls its vast and sea.likc volume
On the wind Of night:
Make we here our camp of Winter;
And through sleet and snow
Pitcby knot and bcechen splinter
On our hearth shall blow;
Here, with Mirth to tighten Duty
We shall lack alone
Woman, with her smile OF beauty,
And her gentle tone.
But, her hearth is brighter burning
For our work to-day,
And her welcome at returning
Shall our loss repay.
Strike then, comrades !-Trade is waiting
On our rugged toll,
Far ships waiting for the freightiug
OF our woodland spoil
Ships whose traffic links those highlands
Bleak and cold of ours
With the ci,ron planted islands
OF cline of flowers;
To our frosis the tribute bringing
Of eternal heats,
In our lap ot Winter t'inging
Tropic fruits and sweets
Checry on the AK of labor,
Let the sunbeam dance,
Better than the flash of sabre
Orthc glcam Of lance -
Strike With every blow is given
Freer sun and sky,
And the long-hid earth 10 Heaven
Looks with wondering eye.
Loud behind us grow the murmurs
Of the age TO come
Clnng OF smiths, and tread OF farmers
Bearing harvest home =
Here her virgin-lap with treasures
Shall the green earth fill
Waving wheat and golden maize cars
Crown each becchen hill.
Keep who will the city's alleys,
Take the smooth.shorn plain,
Give to us the ccdarn valleys,
Rocks and hills of Maine
In our North.Iand, wild and woody.
Let us still have part
Rugged nurse aud mother sturdy
Hold us to thy heart
Oh, our free hearts beat the warmer
For thy breath of snow,
And our tread is all the iirmer
For thy rocks below.
Freedom, hand in hand with labor.
Walketh strong and brave;
On the forehead Of his neighbor
No man writcth, Slavei
Brother locke on equal brother,
Manhood looks on men,
Be thy future oh our Mother
As thy past hath been
Heavenward. like thy mountain. guardians,
With their siar-crowns decked-
And thy watchword, like Katahdins
Cloud-swept pine, ERECT !"