The White Pine news. [volume] (Treasure City, Nev.) 1868-1906, 1898-07-16
THE STORY OF THE HOUR.

The following Is the original Fourth OF July
Poem read at the cele bration in Ely by Mrs. J.
A. Steele:
When the ploaming falls earessingly athwart
the earth and sky,
Lingering lovingly and the souls most reeep-
tive conditions aN AIKEN
And listen for the voices which are born of
nights dominion,
And truths eternal eehos which mightest
Then BRIGHTER than The stars which stud the
expansive ebon dome above,
On the horizon of the spirit in majesty arises
And through her silvery sheen is seen the Ma
tion's brave defenders
Marching wnere the fife and drum rehearse
the patriots story.
Blow, bugles, blow Our hearts with glad
ness glow
AS louder rolls your music through the
Columbia's sons and daughters are drink
ing Of the waters
OF freedoms flowing fountains which
simmer everywhere.
Oh listen to the martial music; see the banners
proudly wave,
Hear the sturdy, studied footsteps now right
and now the left,
Hear the com aand TO shoulder arms see
the plistering bayouets firmly elasped,
While bright the patriots fire is burning with
in each heroic breast.
What thought adrip the cheek with tears,
which by grief were never gathered
From eyes unused to weep, yet strong their
hearts to do and dare.
To strike the strong oppressor-their patriot
brothers wrong to righten
Upon the soil made sacred by the Maine brave
boys sepulchred there.
Blow, bugles. blowl For truth unveiled
And W iere the palm tree waves upon the
ambient air.
Let drums dirge awake which ruthless
souls shall shake,
And shrieks of CASTLES vaunting Dons
echo and re-echo there.
Now other sounds than these break on the
spirits stilly night,
And cannons speak with awful voice above the
battles din,
And shells by fury sped are hurtling DER the
dying and the dead:
And the red, the white, the blue is seen where
And the star in Cuba's banner glints amid the
lurid scene
And proudly dances on the hills and on DER
dale aud dell,
And now waves the red, the white, the blue on
fort and battlement;
These razed to eartn they mark the spot
where royal minions tell.
Blow. buges. blow The camp fire burn
eth low
ON the foeman's untented fields beyond
the belted brae,
And the Stars and stripes are waving
where patriot hearts are laving
In the seas OF glory won where iercest
ran the fray!
And victors shout and shout, and on the winds
are boz ne their peaus loud,
But join not all the infantry, the vanguard
bvouaes on eternity's plain.
AS the ocean has many billow which never
shall break on the beach,
So no glad thecIs of their comrades shall awake
them to shout for Old glory again
Where furious ueighed the CHARGER their va
liam riders lie amid the happy dead
Anear the brave artillery not these, nor they,
know aught of victory won;
But shrined within the nations heart shall
live their deeds of chiyalry
While in spiTi. bowed beside the tomb where
lies Columbia's sons.
Blow. bueles softly blow And drums, tap
low, tap lowl
Bring rue aud myrrh, and frankiucense
and spices from atar,
Aud embalm our Nations dead where
death and glory wed,
And strew the turf with laurels green
where floats proud Cuba's star.
But other hallowed scenes arise upon the
spirits Silly night
Throughout our land, onr land beloved, are
homes made desolate;
tOh. War thi, is thy deed, thy cruel deed. oh
vampire that thou art.
Thine is lhe power to mock, then slay; but
thou eanst not createD
In our homes mothers weep, and question tile
dear face in its SHOWS,
But 10 answer comes back from the spaces aiar
Where the track of her soldier-boy's spirit
met the river which flows
In silence as deep, as mysterious, as the whirl
of "a star.
oh, bugles cease to blow, for hopes are
lying low,
Nor drums roll your music on the air;
For Columbia's sons and daughters are
drinking of the waters
From Marah's bitter fountains which
murmur eVerywherel
But now magic scene bursts on the spirits
Silly night
The Orient's sun-kissed seas DER which our
bait .eships now hover
The guardians of those isies historic where
might her lash has welded,
And ceaseless tyranny witt craven tools has
ceased her brood to cover;
There waves our glorious banner, the white
stars on her ample bosom
Emit the rays of promise sure 10 those whose
cause is Just,
Whose ortlamme spangles the patriots brow
with wreaths Of victory;
Where the crown of CASTLES pride is trampled
In the dust.
Blow. bugles blow Until tyrant hordes
shall know
on oceident and Orient the eagle perehes
high,
Protector of the rights of man. life and
sweet liberty
And pursuit of happiness, his hoarse stem
torian cry.