Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1889-11-04
Ode by Julia c. r. Dorr.

[Read By Prof. Churchill at Gettysburg, Oct.
1889. at the Dedication of the Vermont State Nj
ument
Brothers, is this the spot?
Let the drums cease to beat;
Let the tread of marching feet,
With the clash and clang of steel
And the trumpet's long appeal,
(Cry of joy and sob of pain
In its passionate refrain)
Cease awhile,
Nor beguile
Thoughts that would rehearse the story
OF the past's remembered glory =
Thoughts that would revive to-day
Stern Wars rude, imperious sway
Waken battles fiery glow
With it's ardor and it's woe,
With its wild, exulting thrills,
With the rush of mighty wills,
And the strength to do and dare; :
Born of passion and of prayer
Let the present fade away,
And the splendors of to-day;
For our hearts within us burn
As our chances backward turn.
What rare memories awaken
AS the tree of life is shaken,
And its storied branches blow
In the winds of long ago.
Do We not remember, brothers,
Ere the war-days how twas said
Grand, heroic days were over
And proud chivalry dead?
Still we saw the glttering lances
A.. tI,a al
Still beheld the watch-fres burning
On the cloudy heights of Time;
And from the fields that they had won,
When the stormy fight was done
Saw the victorious knights returning
Flushed with triumph's joy sublime!
For the light of song and story
Kindled with supernal glory
Plains where ancient heroes fought;
And illumned with splendor
Rare and magical and tender,
All the mighty deeds they wrought.
But we thought the sword of battle,
Long unused, had lost its glow,
And the sullen war-gods slumbered
Where their altar-fires burned lowi
Was the nation dull and sodden,
Buried in material things?
Twas the chrysalis, awaiting
The sure stirring of its wings
For when rang the thrilling war-cry
Over all the startled land,
And the fiery cross of battle,
Flaming, sped from hand to hand.
Then how Jared it, o my brothers?
Wee men false craven then?
Did they falter?
Did they palter?
Did they question why or when!
Oh the story shall be told
Until earth itself is old;
How from mountain and from glen,
More than thrice ten thousand men
Heard the challenge of the foe,
Heard the nations cry of woe,
Heard the summoning of arms,
And the battles loud alarms!
In tumultuous surprise,
Lo, their answer rent the skies;
And its quick and strong heart-thrills
Rocked the everlasting hills!
Forth from blossoming fields they sped
To the fields with carnage red;
Left the plowshare standing still,
Left the bench, the forge. the mill,
And the quarry's marble shade,
Left the quiet walks of trade,
Left the pulpit and the court,
Careless case and idle sport,
Left the students clustered halls
In the old, gray college walls,
Left young creams dear and sweet,
Wars stern front, unblenched to meet!
oh, the strange and sad amaze
of those forgotten days,
When the boys whom we had guided
Nursed and loved, caressed and chided,
Suddenly, as in night,
Spranly to manhood's proudest hight;
And with calmly smiling lips,
Aswho life's rarest goblet sips,
Dauntless, with unhurried breath,
Marched to danger and to death
w.
Soldiers, is this the spot?
Fair the scene is calm and fair,
In this still October air.
Far blue hill look gently down