The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1873-06-05
The 2utland Daily Glohs.
THURSDAY, JUNE 8, 1873.
ODE FOR DECORATION DAY.

Strewing garlands culled and woven
From the fairest flowers OF May,
Let us briefly journey backward
Through the swlftly-neeting years,
To our Nations time Of peril
To her hour OF blood and tears. 80
Lo the somber cloud OF battle
Darkly sweeps DER sumter's walls;
And our torn, insuted banner
At the traitors mandate falls,
While the boom of deep-mouthed cannon
Echolng from the heights afar,
Wakes the slow but sturdy Mortimer
With the thunder-blasts of war.
Then amaln from loom and anvil
From the workshop and the plough,
See the countless hosts arising!
Stern resolve upon each brow,
AS they grasp their FURNISHED weapons,
And In shining squadrons pour,
with trumpet, drum and banner,
Through the streets of Baltimore.
Noble ELLSWORTH fearless LYON!
First of Freedoms martyred sons!
Cherished be their memory ever
'Mong Columbla's bravest ones!
Gently DER their green earth-plllows
Wave the summer-blooms to-day,
Fitting tribute OF affection
To the heroes passed away.
From our own beloved Green mountains,
That In lofty grandeur rise
TIL their verdure. mantled submits
Seem TO kiss the azure skies;
L'ro,, our cp,iItntr tiaIds md vaIlina
With their wealth OF golden grain.
Came the sturdy sons of Freedom,
Speeding to the battle-plain.
And the spirit of brave ALLEN
Gllstened in each patriots eye,
AS he grasped the trusty rife
Or the sabcr waved on high;
While the vlewless mountain breezes
Bore afar the clarion-call;
"For our own, our blood-bought Union
We Will dare to fight and fallv
Foremost in the shock Of battle
stood our heroes brave and true,
While the war-cry "On to Richmond"
Thrilled the waiting country through.
on Manassas frowning bulwarks-
On Bull Runs CORY plain,
Patriot blood was poured like water,
And, alas was poured in vain.
Ever daring, nothing fearing,
Meier recoling from the blow,
Though victory still brooded
Ger the banners OF the foe,
Yet our legions, all undaunted,
swiftly rallied as before,
To the call OF Father Abr'am
For three hundred thousand more.
Long the fitful tide Of conflict
Ger our fair land surged and rolled
Freely gave we sons and brothers
Freely gave our boarded gold;
While the wall of stricken widows
And the orphans flowing tear
Cried to Heaven for that justice
Which still lingering, yet was near
Then the God OF battles heard us
And His mighty arm was barred,
With its thrice puissant thunders
For His enemies prepared;
The all-potent fiat sounded,
and from blood-stained shore to shore,
Foul Slavery and Rebellion
Fell In dust to rise no more!
But amid the clang of joy-bells
Comes wild, despairing cry
Burstlng:.forth from hill and valley
Mounting upward to the sky
Ger the bier OF salnted LINCOLN
Lo a peoples tears are shed,
For the assassin's fatal bullet
Robs the Nation OF It's head.
Father Abram honest Abram
Noblest Roman OF them all
What a flood OF recollectiOns
Those familiar names recall
or the grand, great-hearted hero,
Patient, trusting, true and brave,
Who, In cause OF Right and Freedom,
Fills an honored martyrs grave.
All full well do We remember
When the woeful tidings came
on that sad fourteenth of April,
While the country was afiame
With vict'ry's wild re1oicings
And the shouts OF eager men,
To their far-off Northern flresides
vending homeward once again.
Stricken was each loyal BOSOM
Sore opprest with doubts and fear;
Tender women walled In anguish,
And strong men bowed In tears,
For the saviour OF the nation
And the traitors direst foe
In deaths sure, swift embraces
Was lying cold and low
All the long, long years have mingled
With Obliyion's sunless tide
Naught remains but tender mem'res
or our braves who fought and died.
We have heaped the dust and ashes
Gently on each sacred head,
And the marble shaft points upward
Der the graves or loyal dead;
Forms OF those we loved and cherished
From the Held of carnage torn,
And with sound OF bell and cannon
To home sepulture borne;
But alas with threefold sorrow
Mourns the faithful heart that weeps,
Musng on some distant valley
Where the nameless soldier sleeps.
We have come with dlrge and flowers
on this sad, memorial day
With our garlands deity woven
From the fairest blooms OF May.
At your shrine, o Heaven-crowned heroes
We have laid our off'ring low,
sad and simple yearly tribute
Which our reverent hands bestow.
For our own, our peerless country
God OF Nations, hear our prayer,
May her sons and daughters ever
Feel Thy great, protecting care
May her deeds OF LOFTY daring
Still resound from shore TO shore,
And her bright Star-spangled banner
Wave in triumph evermore.
VILLAGE OF RUTLAND.
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