Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1880-08-20


The cunning craftsmen piled their skill,
Till nave and transcpt, dome and sill,
Gallery aud pulpit, ready lay,
Waiting the mighty "raising day"
Then all the country gathered round,
Each lennon huge Its mOrtice found,
And, strong as Ajax, men upbore
Whole brOadsidcs-twenty tons or more
by mammoth spike-pOles held upright
Till beam and brace were fitted tight
And rafters DER the plates strong tied.
The structure storm and wind delied.
And thus was planted on this rock
The church that's braved the tcmpest's shock,
That's stood the test Of all these years,
And still her battered front uprears-
4 ruined fortress, grandly given
To battle all the winds Of heaven.
Thou dear old church, For eighty years
Thou'st crowned this wintry hill
Lone relic Of ancestral sCers,
Thou art well.nigh the century's peer,
Planted to do Gods WILL
Where Is the grey.haired parson now?
The grand, Old.fashioned choir?
The deacon where, who slumbered through
Whole miles Of sermon I'm his pew?
And where the country squirel
GOne-gone TO heaven, we trust-all gone.
Thy pulpit, grand and great,
Has fallen meath the pelting Storm
And fierce debates, March meetings warm,
Have robbed thee Of thy sanity form,
And mixed the Church and State.
OF mighty deeds yet thou can'st tell;
When men did toll and delve,
| When England's second war befel,
When Roberts, Carley, Hall and Green,
Brave Captain Preston and his men,
Carson and Pike, and all the rest,
Marched forth, Of Nottingham the best,
In days Of 1872.
And then was built in later years,
| That belfry with its four straight spires;
| And In the belfry hung that bell
That's tolled so many funeral knel;
| That's merrily rung for many bride,
When priestly hands the nuptials tied;
| Whose soft, sweet tones on sabbath air
| Rose like the incense Of pure prayer,
| SummOning the country, miles away,
| To worship God upon Ills day.
| That grand old bell! How clear 1t pealcd
| When bright June trainings held the field;
| When, mustered on this aIy plain,
| The States militia here did train.
| When Independence Day came round,
| How grand and joyful was its sound!
| That's sung the dead years requiem;
| That's rung the new years glory In.
| Remember ye, when war was done,
| How grand, how nightly 1t rung,
As sounding forth, In voice sublime,
| One nag, one country, for all timel
| That sweet old bell, that now It's gone
| by vandal hand from belfry torn
| It, loss like some dead friend we mourn
| The sceptrc passed from on this hill
| When that old bell grew mute and still.
What hath she done in all these year,
| Old Whitingham-'mid smiles and tears?
Buried reyerently her dead
/
| Builded villages on either side
| Rivals each, yet each her pride;
Built strong saw-mills and good roads;
| raid her taxes, sold her goods.
| she hath had her district schools,
| Where her daughters gently rule;
| Made maple sugar, ton on ton,
| While her matrOns carded, spun;
| RAISED her GOOdnOws and her Stairs,
| Merchants, bankers (bulls and BEARS;
| Reared the mayor Of CITY,
And Brigham Goung-Lord, what pity
| pity, not for our good mayor,
| But Tor That Mormon, old soOthsayer)
RAISED her quota in both wars
| she can show good battle oscars.
She hath mighty wrestlers bred,
stout John Andres at the head;
Ira Bemis-what host
In every fight came uppermOst
Inn Bowen, Hull, and black 10 Eames,
FOR any raising" o what teams!
search the century through and through,
what did Nottingham not do;
What hath she reared in all these years.
stout neCkcd oxen, mammoth steers.
Gu ought to seC-nay, YOU have seen
Her hundred yoke, all in one team
HitChed TO mighty wagon, frcighted
Like NOah's ark-nOt 20 well mated.
The men went foot the women rode
And village bellies, o what a load
With laughter clear a. mountain brook.
| Their handicraft along they took
| Quilts, socks, Embroidered furbelOw-
| To ensure premium or "A beau.
| With mammoth squashcs, succulcnt beet,
For flags the tasselcd corn and wheat,
For music, songs Of children grand
| All headed by the new brass band.
Not Caesars chariot bore such load
| As this, up hilly and old straight road,
Bearing the hosts of jacksonville
To the old Playground on this hill.
In all these hundred years shes raised
| No subject for the halter,
| And better still-thc Lord be praised
| No town or bank dcfaultcr.
In politics she hath two creeds,
And every mans a member;
Their votes both generals will need
To make sure Of November.
on one sound plank she stands agreed,
Nor waters milk and honey;
| For digging rocks has made her dead
Against all fiat money.
She's built so many good stone walls,
| Her very fingers Jingle;
| No music swCeter in her halls
Than an honest dollars jingle.
Religion lives by faith and deeds,
She hath no little leaven;
Five churches meet her sunday needs
Their spires all point to heaven
/ said one Brigham Young she'd raised,
But she gave him parting letter;
| Too many wives would set us crazed,-
one at time Is better.
Much good to Nottingham is given,
The bad she's fast Outgrowing;
She hath to-day four winds Of heaven,
| iluN blt = iNA N'hSiN7' SUNS
OF LAWYERS she hath raised a host;
Than Blackstone they are subter;
| Who never settle without their cost,
From Hicks to John +. But cr.
For doctors, she could always beat
| Old -Esculapius certain;
For blcedings -mall-and stories great
Go ask good DIR. Martin.
And round the globe, q scholar wise,
| Three times DER oceans cables
He'd ike to navigate the skies
Hath sailed our brother PEBBLES.
For ministers, Bailou and Lamb
Long held their even PAGES.
To sinners keep from Nottingham
| Who e'er shall ill their places!
Dear Father Lamb! That sanity form
| Rests meath the summer daisies,
Beyond the lifelong strife and storm,
| Thy spirit sings Gods praises.
And one to-day, in distant lands,
| Gods mandate only fearing,
| Grown old and gray, DER burning sands,
The cross Of Christ up-rearing;
Carrying to climes long yelled in night,
BY idol-worship sated,
| The Gospel Of Gods holy light
by his own hand translated;
| Lifting the halt, the lame, the blind,
| In Birmah long benighted;
| The graves OF children left behind,
Till earth's great wrongs are righted.
And dusky forms shall weave thy crown
When lifes strong stan Is broken,
| And long the name of Nathan Brown
In tears by them be spoken.
Twas rugged Attica nurturcd Greece,
olympus ruled the gods,
| And rock built Corsica, ancient ThIace,
Brought mighty warriors to the race
| The hills were their abodes
And all the SUMMER lands and cimes
| Kneel round a Shakespeares tomb;
| Revere the land of Milton blind,
Nor leave unwept the bards sublime
by cliffs Of BannOckburn.
Blush not, O modest country town,
Thy wintry sky and soil
| Not thine the poets deafness crown,
| Not thine the warriors grand renowni
But men of faith and toll.
What though o'd Haystacks cap is white,
| Sadawga chained In ice,
| Beneath the shimmering northern llght'
Old Nottingham, thy hearth is bright
IT'S Freedoms paradise.
Ho no! the binding storm is white,
The bleak winds twist the hills,
The shivering stars are hid in fright
Old Nottingham, It's New Years night
Thine Arctic breath is chill.
Yet merrily ring the New Years bells
Old Winter, thee we dare!
OF mirth and dance their music tells,
The New Years hundredth welcome swells
out ON the frosty air.
The spring doth blush with violets green,
| The summers rich with clover;
We love the autumn's golden sheen,
But winter reigns king supreme
When snow storms drift us over
| What games Of half What skatings grand!