Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1876-09-07
The Song Of A Hundred Years.
BY !. ALLEN cooxBE.

The Song of A Hundred Years.
| By ]. ALLEN cooMBE.
/ sing the song of Nation born
In a deluge of blood and tears
The song of Freedoms natal morn
| The song of a hundred years.
We gaze on the lines OF the written page
The voice Of the silent Past,
That speaks of the deeds of bygone age,
OF kings, and empires vast.
For thousand years the deeds of men
Are told on single page,
And sentence dropped from the gifted pen
As the record of an age.
But the deeds of Seventy>Six, ween,
Shall be sang till the end of time
And the blood of the martyrs of Concord Green
Shall tell of tyrant's crime.
On this summer eve, seem to see
A host go marching on
And their battle cry is "LIBERrY'
And their leader is Washington.
| Their flag is the flag OF the patriot free,
It's hues the sky o'erhead,
The spotless lustre of Purity
And the blood of our martyred dead.
Brave men and true who have often heard
The Indians warwhoop shril,
And the British drums that beat the charge
On the crest of Bunker Hill;
They have stemmed the course of the torrents
flow,
They havO truyersed the mountain gorge,
And their paths were marked in the winters
snow
BY their blood at Valley Forge
Old "Liberty Bell" with its braxen throat
Has shaken the summer air,
And its echoes are ringing among the hills
OF the broad blue Delaware.
The battles smoke floats far away
On the breezes Of the morn,
And every thing seems bright and gay
For NATION is newly born !
The marshalled host no longer hears
The British Lions roar !;
He has erowled his last and sailed away
To his home on a sea grit shore.
The men of seventy-Six are these;
Their forms have passed away,
But their deeds shall live IN mem'ry green
Till the dawn of Judgement Day.
That patriot band OF the olden time
The world shall know no more,
They have launched their barques on the river
of Death
And sailed for an unknown shore.
They have sailed away through the gates of
pearl,
To Eternity's ocean wide
Where thoy stand on the decks of their white
winged feet
And float DER the golden tide.
And the days of seventy-Six are gone
With their weight of hopes and fears,
And we stand nation, proud and strong,
The growth of "a HUNDRED YEARS"
The plains where the red man roams at will
Are waving with golden grain
And the rumbling wheels of the old stage coach
Are changed for the lightning train.
The lightning flashes she thoughts of man
Through the depths of Oceans caves.
And our ships are known to ev'ry land
That is washed by the Oceans waves.
The iron horse, with his breath of flame,
Speeds swift DER the iron bands
That span the breadth of the continent
To Pacifc's golden sands
The last foul blot on our Nations ma me
In blood has been washed away,
And the night that hung Ger Afric's sons
Has changed to glorious day
But its light beamed forth on many corpse
And many new made grave,
In southern lands, when tho Nation struck
The shackles from the Slave
And in northern lands grave was made
For one with martyrs crown,
And the back bends low DER Lincoln's grave
And the grave of OLD JOHN Brown.
A hundred esrs and the same old bell
Is ringing its joyous notes,
And an answering shout goes up to heav'n
From forty million threats
A hundred years. and the Same old flag
Still floats from its mast on nigh,
And the bird of Liberty spreads its wings
In the azure of the sky
Shall the fire of that proud birds eye grow dim,
Shall the old flag cease to wave?
| Shall its broad folds cease to ride the breeze
That signs Ger the patriots grave
| All, no! proud land of "a Hundred Years
Freedom shall ever reign
| And thy sons who are wept by nations tears
Shall not have died in vain.
The beacon lights that have led lis on
Der the rough snd rugged way
Shall lead US still, till the nation stands
| In the blaze of lighter day.
Then internecne war shall cease,
| And righteous arm shall save
From the blood stained hand of coward foe,
The life OF a ransomed slave.
| Wave on, old Flag of hundred years
i Free from a traitors scars
And thou, o bird of Freedom, guard,
The glory its stars.
Ring out, old bell, thy joyous notes
Till all the wide world hears,
And nobler pen shall write the song
The Song of A Thousand Years
Lancaster Wis, dug 10, 1876.
THE CENTENNIAL.
| The Farmers Tina for Recreation.