Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-05-10
THE BANQUET.
Reading of n Poem by George Alfred
Townsend,

Reading of n Poem by George Alfred
Townsend.
FREDERICKSBURG, Va, May 1O-After
the dedication ceremonies the invited guests
repaired to the Opera House to take part in
the Masonic BANQUET and to listen to an ad-
uress py Vice President Stevenson and q
poem by George Alfred Townsend (Gath)
-"i' iowhsends poem was as follows: 80.
Anne, ~ ZIG ie'sn'' so'u S~e'N
m An TO, .ownless from the mountains to the sea.
burg scsrcs WA was roriorn and King Williams
VIVA nwas the year Of Bleuheim's victory.
whose trumPets died away in far Virginia
On thu cabin of an old tobacco farm
"here planters little wife to a little girl gave
And the fire in the chimney made It warm.
1t was little Mary Ball, and she had no fame MT all
=, But the world WAS all the same US IL she had;
For she had the right to breathe and to tottis and
r, And to love some other cunning little lad:
Ihoash he proved widower, 1t was ali the same
For he gave her many a daughter and a son,
ana the family was large and the Oldest. little
Was the hope of little Widow Washington.
~ was nothing more than Smith or Jones or Ball ;
And Georges big half brothers had the call on
49, Affection. IKE the babes OF her own stall:
iheS PAID the larger taxes and the Ayletts and
Received them in their families and land.
While the widow thought upon 1t, she rude in her
Midst her slaves who titled her sulleys and her
iii they sought to take her George upon the royal
w Anu s Sn. hin, him commission and crest,
when her heart cried out -, no. Something saws
he must not go; ~'
She caad aa lin fs .s to the resin
learn much fooling,
And he dragged the mountains DER with chain and
The Blue Ridge was his cover and the Indian his
And his Duty was his Sovereign and God.
Sun her rival in his heart was the Military art
r, ana the Epaulettes she dreaded still were there
There are households stin where glory is a broken
>, And the drum is a mockery and snare.
rom .ne f Barbadocs from the yell of French
From the ghost Of Braddock's unavailing strife,
She oeneid her boy return and his bridal candles
And widow like herself became his wife.
By Petomacs pleasant tide he was settled with his
Overseeing horses, hounds and cocks and wards,
ana II seemed but second nature to go to the legis
~, And pay his hand at politics and cards.
Three score .andten had come when the widow heard
My God she cried what demon is at larger,
lis tne conflict with the King, tits two worlds
And the call of Duty comes to mothers George.
20 war i To plague me 50. Must my first born
Her answer Is the bugle and the gun.
The town ILLS up again with the horse of MERGERS
And the name they call aloud is Washington.
IN tne long. distracting yeaD none may count the
49, widows tears;
She is banshed DER the mountains from her farm
She is old and lives with strangers while ride wide
the Kings red rangers,
And the only word is Arm" and "Arm?' and
Come home and see your son. the immortal Wash
He has beat the King and mighty Corvallis
They crowd her little door and she sees her boy once
But there is no glory in him Ike his kiss.
The Marquises and Dukes. In their orders and Pc
The AIds-de-camp, the Generals and oil.
stand by to see and listen how her aged eyes will
To hear from him the tale of Yorktown's fall.
Upon that her lips are dumb to the trumpet and the
drum;
All their pageantry is vanity and stun.
So be leans upon her breast she cares nothing for
In the life that mothers give is their thirst that
And the species never lose the legacy.
To love again on earth and repeat the wondrous
birth
That is glory-that Is Immortality.
Unto Fredericksburg at last, when her four-seore
Now gray himself he rides all night to say:
Observation-Disclosures went TO become the Presi-
have come to kiss you till another day."
NO, George; the sight of thee. which 1 can hardly
see,
Is all for all-goodby; can be brave.
Fulfill your great career US 1 have fulfilled my
sphere:
My station can be nothing but the grave"
The mothers love sank down, and its sunset his
crown
shone IKE the dying beams Of perfect day r,,
The balm that softens injury away.
But he his mothers son till his weary race was
done;
Her gravity, her peace, her golden mean
Shed on the state the good OF her sterling woman