, 1877-12-16


CHICAGO, Dec. 15.-B. F. Taylor sent me thf
be printed tomorrow or Monday, as its 1sean
ng hangs on Monday. You perhaps will thanl
lin and me for them, aud perhaps not. The.
Ire very bright lines, as it seems to ne-
DAVID SWING
TuREE-sCoRE YEARS AND TEN.
Dec. II, 1807-Dee. II, 1877.
r,ew-Encland bred December born.
0 eldest son Of Doric song,
We bid thy fame and thee good mornl
The freedoms OF all lands belong
To thee Thanksgiyins~Day drifts down
To set thy birthright In its crown.
Thanks for thy buge-horn that played
Oppresson's Dead March round the 1an19
Thanks for thy ringing harp that made
New pulses leap IN Labor's hand:
Thanks for thy trumpet's Gabriel blast
That rallied out the Right at last!
Thanks for thy pealtery's iron strings
THAT shook their rhythmic thunders out, :.
As eagles spurn with clashing rings
The mountain-eyries rock-redoubt
Until Gods broad horizons ran
The circiiug brotherhood of Mani
".
THINKS for thy golden bees that hum
The fragrant tunes OF Summer through
The ycar: forever 60 and come
With nil things sweet, and pure and true,
And lend these dull and dally lives
The music Of the murmuri1g hlTest
Midway between Thanksgiving
And Christmas Eve, a cradle rocked.
An Angel left hts radiant way,
And stood behind the door End knocked.
nGAfc i'm nva4 n Sy1n
Behind him whrted the drifting snow.
The door swung Wfde- Beyond bis feet
The yule- log strcamed golden light,
Were ribboned on the breast OF Night.
Let grnce and mercy here abide,
From halloween to Chrfstmasttde.
VII,
NOW peace on Earth, ~ the Angel said;
Praise God, the Father and the Soo"'
And 30 above that infant head
The carol anu the psalm begun,
Translated aimee in every tongue.
BY Battle thundeEed, Mercy sung.
The Christmas coal that touched his lips,
The Christmas soul that warmed his breast,
Unauenched to-day in Ecrth's ecl1pae,
Is yet ag1ow, IL still guest
In roll OF tia2hyel, sony Of wren,
rita PEACE on EARTH, GOODWILL TO NEEt
X.
IIe sang The debtors dungeon-door
Swung backward On its hin%e Of rust;
The chain c1anked down that bondmen wore,
And blood cried OUT from, spcechess dust,
Till skies OF daisies starred the sod
Where terror kaclt and tyraut tod.
ue rang, And poor Bgon1huddyrs's throat
Was trembling sweet with English song.
He sung. And bolted lightnfn9s su'ute
The grizzly ba,tle,nents Of Wrong.
Strike not thy ''fent beside the sea,
Brave Laureate Of Liberty.
Not ssSnowbound yet, this later John
Sings Edcn's Gear old songs asuin,
And WuirTlEn's Pilgrims travel On
Till Times great anthem sounds AMEN!
TO JOHN G. WHITTIER
teet -fiyiug from the windy ways Of Morn
n 10 the voicetess valleys Of the Night.
ue davs have fuah'u and c1imb'd, till thou dos,
stand,
Poett In the winter OF thine age.
steadfast hcart: thy high ideal SET
O wears could swerve thee fso.n thy chosen path:
~ voice. that like Achilles shook the foe,
anv loud. till Freedom heard, and answered bac
he Ginning challenge with Il blast Of JOY!
nd II the passionate. dim hope be true.
aat IA the wide Eternity beyond,
EMS living souls shairfroHt living God,
Jrcye. tnrone1 on starry hills VI tuwu-
hen surely sou9s like thine. whose mighty lore
# the more perfect art PISS by. and coosc
1,her to wage WAT for Human Right.
- L f<,- kf4os- A-t