Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1859-08-19

VI uuFltu loves anu broken Ties
That cannot be forgot.
There is fragrance in the air,
All up the mound-strewn slope,
Where sleep the aged, with silver hair.
And they Of youthful hope,
The fragrance Of the Brier-rose,
Aud sweet Forget-me-not,
The Heath and Asphodel that blows
Along the grassy plot.
The moon comes rising, round and full,
Up through the distant trees
The thin white clouds, like feecy wool,
Float lazy in the breezei
Their shadows creep along the slope,
Like phantom spectfcs come
To fright the owl whose sluggish NOPE
And boot has just begun.
Erewhile, the hushed and dreamy air
Has heard the bats quick stroke,
Where dirting from his night-blaok lair,
As night his slumbers broke.
Or where the Weeping Willows wave,
The Whippoorwill Is heard,
When in sweet strains she fills her stave
With that most pensi,e word.
All other sounds are hushed and still
Not eena leaflet stirs,
Nor murmuriug shell awakcs the hill,
Nor sing the hollow burrs.
The sky, in all its spangled deeps,
Is silent 20 the ear,
Save where some angel vigil keeps
Within that star-gcmmed sphere,
Or rustling drops adown the air.
To bear some late freed soul
Beyond a world Of grief and care.
I'LL lodged within the goal.
The food of life here flows along;
Each takes his lot assigned,
Aud in this mute, sepuchral throng
All to ambition blind
The turmoil on the busy road,
Where toll and conflict meet,
Comes not the burdened here unload,
And rest their weary feet.
The warning strife for praise is DER;
The clamerous tongue is still
The sly intriguer cheats no more,
Outwittcd all his skill.
The lawless own imperial sway
To Deaths relentless code;
None ever think to run away,
Or change her time sealed mode.
The palsied tongue no gossip brings,
No tel-tale pangs OF grief,
For red fanged scandal never stings
Where eg'ry ear is deaf.
The heart-crushed find a solace here,
And sob and sigh no more,
For wiped away is ey'ry tear,
Their burden now is DER
The pride and beauty Of the town
Are often hither brought,
The jewels IN life's golden crown
Here buried and forgot
Some mute, unhonored child Of song
May lay his laurels here,
Whose passion fred to ev'ry wrong,
Whose soul shone bright aud clear;
Who, had the world but lent him aid,
When struggling up the hard
lngorioue road by fortune made,
should know trusty guard
To her exalted shrines Of truth,
To her sweet censers hung
Within the lambert halls, where youth,
To pGan chords new strung
Applies the rosy fingers, taught
To touch the thoughi-wrapt Tyre,
That breathes its burden, inccnse-fraught,
And sows PTomothean fire.
But left TO cold neglect, like heath
That blooms in desert sod,
His mead has never seen the wreath,
His foot on Parnus trod.
Some Henry, who, had time but spared,
Had stirred the list'ning crowd,
And, as the scintlations glared
Had seen the tall oaks bowed
Had nerved the weak and checked the strong ;
Made even Senates nod
With lightning seowed upon the wrong,
And welded Justices rod
Had pointed onward through the cloud,
To that enorimsoned dome
Where peerless Truth, regal and proud,
Sits on her crystal throne.
Some Washington, who had his time
Been cast at such an hour,
Had set TO fame the seal divine,
And built the nations power;
Had suatehed the shield with bloody bars,
When trailing In the dust,
And dotted II with diamond stars,
And placed his name the .frst.
He rests, to fame a child unknown,
And by the rudest stone,
An Amaranth with bud unblown,
gem by moss oergrown.
Apart. quite up the grassy slope,
/ see an obelisk
OF granite. Patriotic scope
Had led the man TO risk
His life for wounded Hellen's fame
She, whose bapusmal font,
OF old, when Troians did inhame
Was limpid Hellespont
For Freedom was his sword unsheathed;
Beneath the orumbling walls
Where ancient heroes BLEED and Qrieyed,
The Hero Patriot calls
Charge charge ye sons Of heroes born,
The Turk in steel and mall
Aud drive the Crescent and the Horn
From fair lllissu's vale.
Aye rescue that immortal Greece
Whose Argonautic crew
Brought back Of old the Golden Fleece"
Across the Bgean Blue.
Vermont's green palm on high he waved
From green Hymettus' Mount
Alas his soul was deeper bathed
In the Bapusmal Fount
OF Freedoms OVERLOOKING urn,
Than far-iamed Hellen's sons.
Her ancient fires no longer burn,
And silenced are her guns.
Poor HELEN lies in chains and thrull,
But here her Patriot sleeps
He heeds not now the bugle's call,
Nor knows that HELEN weeps
His children come at eyen-tde,
And stand with swimming eyes
Anear his shaft There, side by side,
The Father, Mother lies.
lie sleeps but yet the vestal fame
In future tines shall burn
Vermont her son Ia pride shall claim
And crown the marble urn.
All here they come, the many dead
Who gather for to sleep
Long years shall dust 20 dust be wed
While mourners come TO weep.
The poor, the rich, the high. the low
Find one great level here:
If pomp attend that march 50 slow,
And trappings clothe the bier
As lowly Il that o0fined head,
when lowered 10 the tomb,
A him who sleeps the paupers bed.
Aud waits the final doom.