The new dominion. [volume] (Morgantown, W. Va.) 1876-1904, 1885-11-07

The orders now Composite, quite;
and not
A timber stands to-day of that first
lot,
A traitor he who says that they're
forgot.
But who shall speak for them who
silent lie
Beneath the blush of this October
sky?
They reck not how we sing to-day,
nor why.
In yonder sacred shrined and shafted
grove
Asleep are they whose hearth-stone
name was Love
l speak for them.
Upon these folded hills with gentle
sweep
Is holy dust, for which we weep and
Know thou, HE giveth His beloved
sleep
/ speak for them!
In yonder king of lands, the I'M
crowned West,
Are some who loved this old town
first and best;
So mute and cold are they in deepest
rest
/ speak for them!
With sword and cap and gloves upon
their biers
/ VVar, Laid 70 rac< hrax-a MN, ~ fbnoa
dread years
But hush the glory theirs and ours
the tears
1 speak for them,
/ speak for them.
But schy should aught be said for
the armoured dead?
And schy disturb the peace of their
narrow bed2
One shot of theirs outworthed all
that I've said;
Their songs were writ with sword
and seething lead!
/ cannot speak for them.
What can I say for the sleepers in
the West?
Their spirits now, / trow, at Loves
behest,
Are gathered here; if not, then let
them rest
/ cannot speak for them!
And one short life of all that rest TO-
day
SO still, hemmed in by cold, unfeel
ing clay,
Was nobler far than this my artless
lay
/ cannot speak for them,
] cannot speak for them!
What have we left of those whose
strong right-hand
Felled low the leaf crowned mon
archs of the land?
We peer in vain, with hands above
our brow,
A-down the way with hundred mile
stones now,
Nor catch a CLEAN of that far-hash-
ing steel
Whose edge the great tree hearts were
made to feel;
But just as he, who watches from
afar
The axe-man dealing sturdy strokes
that jar
The very hills, can hear the final
blow,
When he no longer sees the CLEAN
and glow,
So we, from this high-rising hill of
time,
Look DER to when these men were in
their prime,
And hear the echo of their blows roll
on,
Though woodman, axe and forest all
are gone.
What guerdon had these men for all
their toll?
For all their wounds, where was the
wine and oil?
The larger world to them was all
unknown,
But know that smaller world was all
their oUn!
They drank richer wine than Moor
ish king
E. er quaffed to dark eyed maid mid
wassail ring;
They drank the breeze that filtered
through and through
The poplar boughs, from Heavens
distant blue.
True men, so brave of heart and
strong of hand!
Made Of the sterner stuff, and Heav-
ems own brand!
/ cannot find their graves, unmarked
so long
No flower or stone;
I only sing a hating, weak-voiced
song.
Backward blown.
With all thy wealth of years and
laughing skies
A city still thou art of lesser size,
But large enough for hearts as bold
and brave
AS ever thrust sword or filled a
grave!
Hemmed in by hills and by yon way
ward stream,
A city only in thy larger dream,
But wide enough for lives as pure
and strong
AS ever worshiped Right or battled
Wrong!
Without the city's sheen and blind
ing glare,
Thou still art wondrous fair and
debonair,
And bright enough for eyes as soft
and deep
As ever vanquished man or robbed
his sleep!
And vast enough, art thou, for sor-
rows blight
To test it's length and breadth and
depth and height!
And large enough for many myrtled
graves,
For many dear, though sad and
ghostly graves.
Thou art not even known to those
whose eyes
See nought unless it's towers pierce
the skies,
But thou art famed enough for Love
ond Eaor