The Republican journal., 1903-02-12
AMERICA.
PROEM.

Recounting to the eager, listening throng
Tales OF ages that with march supllme,
Have thundered down the silent halls OF tim
/ Yet tho the wood birds song can scarce
| heard,
| Or understood beyond the forests shad
He fain would sing, because his soul
! stirred,
Because the sunshine streaming tnro tn
| glade
Fills him with joy and makes him unafralt
And now the bard-What recks he OF hi
! lay
So that he sings-if it be grave or gay?
| Across the bourne OF sunless seas,
A weary pilgrim band
Halls jOyOusly the freShening breeze,
That speeds them toward the land.
That home of promise-haven blest;
Upon whose sacred sod,
Fair freedoms flag shall guard their rest,
| Their trust be freedoms God.
No terrors of the raging main,
Can daunt these voyagers bold;
Their songs of praise ring forth again,
Their prayers are heavenWard rolled.
And 10 on yon horizons brim,
Beyond the waste of foam,
They see in spectral outlines dim,
The land of freedoms home.
Night sat on Plymouth's silent land,
And mad Atlantic poured
His seething torrents up the strand
Where their frail bark was moored.
But mid the gloom of cheeress night,
Their altar fires glow;
And darkness fled from freedoms light,
Three centuries ago.
Beneath the pines that hurl the blast
Back from their rocky height,
The infant nation dreaming passed.
The watches of the night.
! Perchance amid their dreams they see
a mighty people rise,
Where floats the banner of the tree,
Under the Western skies.
1t may be when the wand of sleep
Subdues the senses sway,
The bonds of time our minds o'er-leap'
Mid future scenes to stray.
1t may be from that wilderness,
In visions of the night,
Some exile sees the storm and stress
That dim far CENTRES light.
Perchance he sees in grim array.
His kindred DER the sea;
The little band at break of day,
Before them on the lea;
atSh h
He hears the patriots gun,
And Bunker's heights reflect the dew,
OF crimson Lexington.
1t may be that another scene,
Before his vision passed;
A land of flowers and golden sheen
Ancestral acres vast
! And 10 amid these wales of rest
Hath war his minonS hurled;
But on each sienced rampant crest
| Proud freedoms flags unfurled
1t may be as these visions go
| Before the dreamer's eyes,
| Three centuries are spanned-and 10.
Thousands of church spires rise
| The blight of war has passed away
The arts enrlCh the sou
| Where warning armies held their sway,
Blossom the flowers of God.
Three hundred years, what hath bee
wrought
For freedom since that band
OF wave-tossed pilgrims hither brought
Found refuge in our land
Three hundred years-the clock OF time
! With measured beat and slow,
! Records the hours with ceaseless chime
As cycles come aud go.
| What of today--what deeds OF mlsht
Remain for us to dare,
| Who stand erect in freedom llght,
Her bounteouS gifts to share?
Shall we not stay the arm OF greed
The power that dare Cypress
The humblest toi!er in his need,
And stand for Righteousness?
Grand is the past our sires have made,
The future shall we mar?
Their glorious banuer-shall it fade,
Oppression be our star.
| No false gods led the men OF Oh,
DUTY held them in ghrall;
Shall we bow down to power OF gold,
For pottage sell our all?
Forbid it! heroes gone before,
Who left this heritage.
Forbid it! Ye in days OF yore,
Who read from history's page.
Forbid it loved ones now at rest
Who led our feet ar ght;
Forbid it God. grant This behes';
Direct us in Thy might.
Lest come again days of distress,
When strife shall shake our land,
The school, the pulpit and the press
For righteousness must stand.
When freedoms banner trails IN dust
While rears Cypress on's head
Then freemens swords no longer rust'
Their sires for freedom bled.
FRANK II. COLLEY.
Ionesport's Sardine Industry.
| Tho town oe Hon aSDUrt now Has IL