Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1874-05-27
THE RIDE OF COLLINS GRAVES.
Aia Incident Of the Flood in Massachusetts, on N
18th, 1874.
BY JOHN BOYLE O'REILLY.

IbtH, 1874.
BY JOHN BOYLE O'REILLY.
No song of soldier riding down
From the raging fight from Winchester town;
No song of time that shook the earth
With the nations throe at a nation IS birth;
But the song of a brave man, free from fear
AS Sheridan's self or Paul Revere,
Who risked what they risked, free from strife
And its promise of glorious pay-his life.
The peaceful valley has walked and stirred,
And the answering echoes of life are heard;
The dew still clings to the trees and grass,
And the early toilers smiling pass,
AS they glance aside at the white walled homes.
Or up the valley, where merrily comes
The brook that sparkles In diamond rlls
As the sun comes the Hampshire hills.
What was it that passed like an ominous breath
Like a shiver of fear or touch OF death?
What was ii? The valley is peaceful still,
And the leaves are afre ON top of the hill.
1t was not a sound nor 4 thing of sense
But pain, like the pang of the short suspense
That wraps the being of those who
AT their feet the gulf of Eternity
The air of the village has felt the chill;
The workers pause at the door of the mill;
The housewife. keen to the vering an.
Arrests her foot on The cottage stair,
Instructive taught by the molher-love,
And thinks OF the sleeping aboyel
Why start the listeners? Why does the course
Oi the mill stream widen? 1t is a horse,
Hark to the sound OF his hoofs they say,
That galops SO wildly Williamsburgh way.
God What was that like human shrek
From the winding valley? VIII nobody sneak?
VIII nobody answer those women who cry
As the awful warnings thunder by?
Whence come they? I.istenl And now they hear
The sound OF the gaOping horse-hoof5 near;
They watch the track of the vale, and see
The rider, who thunders so menaclngly,
With waving arms and warning scream
To the home-i filed banks of the beautiful stream.
He draws rein, but he shakes the street
With a shout and the ring of galloping feet
And this the cry that he fings to the wind
" To the hills for yOur liceS! The Hood is bshihd -
lie cries and Is gone but they know the worst
The treacherous Williamsburgh dam has burstl
The basin that nourished their happy homes
Is changed TO a demon-It comesl 1t cOmesl
monster in aspect, with shaggy front
Of shattered dwellings, to take the brunt
OF the dwellings they shatter-white-manc an
hoarse,
The mere less terror fills the course
OF the narrow valley, and rushing raves,
With Death on the first of its Kissing waves
The cottage and street AMI crowded mill
Are crumbled and crushed
But onward still
In front of the roaring flood is heard
The galloping horse and the warning word.
Thank God, that the brave mans life is sparedl
From williamsburg town he nobly dared
To race with the flood and to take the road
In front of the terrible swath il moved
For miles 1t thunders and crashed behind,
But he looked ahead with a steadfast mind;
" They must be icarRed. " was all he said,
AS on his terrible ride he spcl
When heroes are called for, bring the crown
To this Yankee rider: send him down
On the stream of time with the Curtius old;
His deed as the Romans was brave and bold,
And the tale can rs noble thrill awake,
For he offered his life for the peoples sake
boston Pilot