The Bennington daily banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1877-1877, 1877-08-16

U, trembling heart take courage and be
strong,
Harki to voice from wonder ervstal
bars -
Did the roses blow last Junef
Do the stars still rise and setf
And over the crests of the mountains
Are the light clouds floating yeti
Do the rivers run to the sea
With a deep, resistless fowl
DO the little birds sing north and south,
AS the seasons come and got
Are the bills as fair as of oldf
Are the skies as blue and fart
Have you lost the pOmp of the sunset
Or the light of the evening starr
has the glory gone from the mOrningf
DO the wild winds wall no more
ls there now no thunder of pillows
Beating the stOrm-lashed shore
Is Love forgotten storyf
Is Passion TESTERS themeR
Has Nalor thrown down its armorR
is Honor an idle dream
Is there no pure trust in wOlnanY
No cOnquerinR faith in GOdR
Are there no feet strong to follow
In the paths the martyrs trOd
Did you find no hero graves
When your violets bloomed last May
Prouder than those of Marathon,
Or old Platea'A dAyP
, Or the t,;,. fses Winds .,,,, aStts5sd ont;
To receive it with shout
oh let the Earth grow old
And the burning stars grow cold
And if you will, declare mans story told
Yet, pure as faith is pure;
And sure as death is sure,
As long as love shall live, shall song endured
s When one by one the stately, silent Years
Glide like pale ghosts beyond our yearn-
ing sight,
Vainly we stretch our arms to stay their
flight,
So soon, So swift, they pass to endless
night!
We hardly learn to name them,
10 praise them, or to blame them,
To know their shadOwy faces,
Ere we see their empty places!
Only once the glad Spring Rreets them;
Only once fair Summer meets them
Only once the Autumn glory
Tells for them its mystic story;
Only once the Winter hoaTy
Weaves for them its robes of light
Years leave their work half-dOne; like
men, alas!
With sheaves ungathered to their graves
they pass,
And are forgotten What they strive to do
Lives for a while in memory of a few;
Then over all Oblivion's waters flow.
The Years are buried in the Long Agol
But when a Century dies, what room is
there for tearsf
Rather in solemn exaltatjOn let Us c0me
With roll of drum,
Not muffled as in wOe,)
With blare of bugles, and the liquid flow
OF silver clariOns, aud the long appeal
OF the clear trumpets ringing peal on peal,
With clash of bells, and hosts in proud
array
To pay meet homage to its burial day
For its proud work is done. Its name is
writ
Where all the ages that come after it
Shall read the eternal letters, blazoned
high
On the blue dome of the impartial sky.
What ruthless fate can darken its re-
nOWn,
Or dim the lustre of its starry crowni
On mountain-peaks Of Time each Century
stands alone;
And each, for glory OF for shame, hath
Teaped what it hath sOwn!
But this-the one that gave thee birth
A hundred years ago, o beauteous mother!
This mighty century had a mightier brother,
Who from the watching earth
Passed but last year! Twin-bOrn indeed
For what are twelve months to the womb of
time
Pregnant with ages i-Hand in hand they
climbed
With clear, young eyes uplifted to the stars,
With great, strong souls that never stopped
Through storm and darkness up to glorious
day
Each knew the others need; each in his
breast
The subtle tie of closest kin confessed;
=Ounted the others honor as his own;
Nor feared to sit upon o separate throne;
Nor loved each other less when-wOndrOus
One gave a Nation life, and one statel
VI.
Oh! rude the cradle in which each was rocked,
The infant Nation, and the infant State
ROUGH nurses were the Centuries that Knocked
At mother-kissel, and for mother-arms
Gave their young musings sudden harsh
alarms,
Quick blows and stern rebuifs. They babe
them wait,
Often in cold and hunger, while the feast
Was spread for Others and, though last not
least
Gave them sharp swords for playthings, and
the din
OF actual battle for the mimic strife
That childhood glories in
Yet not the less they loved them. spartan1
they,
Who could not rear a weak, effeminate
brood.
BETTER the forests awful solitude,
Better the desert spaces, where the day
Wanders from dawn 70 dusk and finds nc
life.
But over all the tlreless years swept on.
Till side by side the Centuries grew old
And the young Nation, great and strong
and bold,
Forgot is cary stFuegles, in tFipmUhS lstel
a.. 49,. 49,, x,o,t q, Vyaatl