The Frankfort roundabout. [volume] (Frankfort, Ky.) 1882-1908, 1886-11-27

And through the graceful bending trees,
Float mystic whispers on the breeze
And birds adorned with heavenly dye
Above that scene of beauty fly,
And with their sweet enchanting song,
Make thrilling music all day long
While perfume from the magic flowers
Is drifting through the glowing bowers
A sanity city where the blest
And weary have eternal rest
Where all night long the heavens weep
Above that calm, unbroken sleep.
Here lie the good. the true the brave,
Asleep in honor's sacred grave.
Close by rustic thicket's shade
Our brave old pioneer is laid
Here Boone, the veteran, calmly sleeps
Upon those quiet, rugged sleeps;
He who first with courge trod
Kentucky's cOnsecrated sod.
The monument that bears his name
Is quite enough for Frankfort's fame.
Here statesmen, by their country crowned
Are resting in this hallowed ground.
Men noted in historic page
The poet, orator and sage
Our johnson. famed for noble deeds,
For wise and patriotic creeds;
Who filled with dignity and grace,
In nations rule the second place.
Here Crittenden, whose name still lives,
And honor to our city gives;
And Madison and John Adair,
And Greenup, too, lie buried there.
Grand Patriots truly wise and great
In early years. who ruled our State.
Here MoreEead and our Letcher lie;
The names of such can never die.
Here Talbot, Clark and Elliott sleep
| Beneath the pines that DER them weep.
And many bright, distinguished son
Here rests full well--life's labors done.
And here repose the brave who fell
Meath many storm of shot and shell.
See yonder marble columns rise,
And reach towards the azure skies,
Where carved eagles stretch their wings
And glory's graceful statue clings,
Above the patriotic brave
Who died their country's veal to save.
And chiseled cannons seem to tell
How those immortal heroes fell,
Until we almost seem to hear
Dread Buena Vista's thunder near;
And marble bugles seem to play
Ger those who fell at Monterey.
And charging on the foe we see
The gallant Hardin and Mckee,
While valiant Willis, Clay and Vaughan
Seem to be living there--not gone;
While vet'rans from the early wars
Show once again their many scars.
And "glory guards" and genius weeps
Where Theodore O'Hara sleeps.
This is our city of the dead
With rays celestial diversified;
This is the spot where through the trees
The angels whisper in the breeze.
Sweet voices of the loved and lost,
Whose spirits have our pathway crossed,
Where from the bright elysian lands
We hear the notes of angel bands;
Where we can hear the anthems rise
From voices loved beyond the skies,
And from this world look up above
TO an undying world of love,
And meet again. and see and know
Those who have left US long ago.
Xentuckians, this is hallOwed ground;
No spot more sacred ever found
md throughout every passing year
This resting place becomes more dear.
Let no man dare to desecrate
This spot so dear to all the State,
)h, take no laurels from the brave
Who lie in glory's hOnOred grave.
Col. Scott next read an essay upon
he "HistOric Drift Pile" after which
1iss Nellie OrbisOn sang a beautiful
cotch ballad, and was again encored.
Miss Mamie Browder, at the re-
uest of the author, then read the fol-
,wing poem:
CENTENNIAL DAY.
Dedicated to the city of Frankfort by