Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1877-08-17

!
crowned One, twas thou didst bid me speahi
II.
Yet what Is there 10 say,
Even on this proud day,
This day Of days, that hath not oft been saidf
what song is there to sing
That hath not oft been sung7
What laurel can we bring
That Ages have not hung
thousand times above their glorious dea 2
what crown TO crown the living
Is left us for our giving,
That Is not shaped to other brows
That wore II long ago7
Our very vows but echo VOWS
Breathed centuries agoi
Earth has no choral strain,
No sweet or sad refrain,
No lofty pean swelling loud and clear,
That Virgil did mot know,
Or Dante, wandering slow
In mystic frances did not pause TO heari
Whom gods from high Olympus came
TO touch old Homers lips with fame,
The morning stars together sung
To teach their raptures 10 his tongue;
For him the lonely ocean moaned;
For him the mighty winds intoned
Their deep-voiced chantngs, and for him
Sweet flower bells pealed IN forests dim.
From earth and sea and sky be caught
The spell Of their diyinest thought,
while yet Il blossnmed fresh and new
As Edens rosebuds wet with dew!
Oil TO have lived when Earth was young
with oil its melodies unsungl
The dome Of Heaven bent nearer then
When gods and angels talked with men
When song itself was newly born,
Tho Incarnation Of the Morn
hut now, alas! all thought is old,
All life is but story told,
And pOet-tongueB manifold;
And he il bold who tries to wake
Even for Gods or Country's sake,
In voice, or pen, or lutte, or Tyre,
Sparks Of the old Promethean arel
III.
Aud yot,-o Earth, thank God 1.-THE soul Of song
Is az immortal as the eternal stars!
o, trembling heart take courage and be strong,
Ia n Epia frYrt "a 4
ibid the roses blow last June =?
Do the stars still rise and set7
And over the crests Of the mountains
Are the light clouds floating yet?
Do the rivers run TO the sea
With deep resistless fow7
DO the little birds sing north and sonth
As the seasons come and GOT
Are the hills Is fair as Of old?
Are the skies as blue and fart
Have you lost the pomp Of the sunset,
Or the light Of the evening star ID?
Has the glory gone from the morning7
Do the wild winds wall no more T.?
Is there now no thunder Of pillows
Beating the storm-lashed shore
Is Love forgotten story?
Is Passion a TESTERS theme?
Has Valor thrown down its Armor7
Is Honor an idle dream7
Is there no pure trust in woman7
No conquering faith In God
Are there no feet strong 10 follow
In the paths the martyrs trod7
Did you ind no hero graves
When your violets doomed last May
Prouder than those Of Marathon,
Or 'old PlateAs day'2
When your red, and white aud blue
On the free winds fiuttered out,
Were there no strong hearts and voices
To receive 1t with shout?
OH let the earth grow old
And the burning stars grow csldi
Aud, II you will, declare mans story toldl
Yet, pure as faith il pure,
And sure as death is sure
As long as love shall live shall song endured ~
".
When one by one the stately, silent Years
Glide like pale ghosts beyond our yearning sight
Nainly we stretch our arms to stay their flight,
So soon, 80 swift, they pass to endlees might
We hardly learn to name them,
To praise them, or TO blame them,
To know their shadowy faces
Ere We their empty plAcesl
Only once the glad Spring greets them:
only once fair Summer meets them;
Only once the Autumn glory
TELLS for them its mystic story;
Only once the Winter hoAry
weayes 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 Q while in memory Of few:
Then over all oblvion's waters TOW
The Years are buried In the Long Agol
But when Century dies, what room is there for
Rather in solemn emulation let us come,
With roll Of drum,
(NOt mufiied as in woe)
with blare Of bugles and the liquid flow
OF silver clarions, and the long appeal
OF the clear trumpets ringing peal on peal
with clash Of bells, aud hosts In proud array
To pay meet homage to its burial dayl
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 renown,
Or dim the lustre Of its starry crown?
On mountaiu-peakH Of Time each centuryist
alone;
Id caeh for glory or for shame hath reaped what IL
hath sownl