Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1911-01-07
v E r M O N #

commencement
Dear little among the dark green hills
Who for thy neyer-changing bounds didst take
The long. bright river and the lake.
And whose deep lap the short-lived summer fills,
With sudden sweetness till its wealth oerspills,
How shall we sing thee for thy beautys sake.
Or praise thee in a voice that shall not break
For pathos of the thome wherewith it thrills?
What if on flying feet thy summers 60
And the strict gods of beauty and of power
Poured in a casket small thy peerless dover?
Who would rather feel loves fercest throe
Than count the years the loveless know
Reign with the her imperial hour
Than live the summerong flower?
Be glad thy crown is greener for the snow.
Thou sits with loins upgirt, like those that watt
Not those that slumber and around thy knees
True sons Of thine. scorners of fear and ease,
Make music of their toll early and late;
For thou art itly compassed in the
BY fields of clover, reddening to the breeze,
Hummed by the blithe and laboring bees
And guarded by the mountains calm and great.
Swarm after thy children have gone forth
But still the old hive keeps its golden store,
Filled by the same bright service as before
With frugal bounty and unwasted worth
And still they Ay far and south and north;
Their murmur fills the land from shore shore;
And if but few return what myriads
Dream of thy face and bless thee for their birth
They dream of thee OF them dost thou dream?
Didst thou show them in their happy prime
Thy deep-wood secres-teach them in their time
The lapsng legend of the lingering
Awe with the shadow lure them with the glearn--
And at the first touch of the autumn
Weave the gamor of magic cline,
And paint their palace with the rainbows beam?
And they are still thy children, though their feet
Follow hard trails in the tumutuous town,
Or to the mighty waters have gone down;
long heard the sur beat
On alien Shores and alien tongues repeat
Their names, and of have earned renown,
They are thy children STILL and every
They win is thine and makes thy dream sweet
AT times thy musings take darker hue,
And thou hast sight of war-furrowed field
Where the smoking squadrons charged and wheeled
When Liberty her peried trumpet blew.--
: And down through all the wales thy heroes few,
With thy old deahless valor fired and steeled
To make the glorious legend thy shield,
Freedom and Unity y, forever
Sometimes with its old scorn thy lip is cured-
Thinking how thy borders, and west
And south and north thy foes around thee pressed,
And all their bolts upon thy head were hurled
When thy young flag suddenly unfurled
And thy lone eagle left his stormy nest
Soaring above grim Mans6eld's darkening crest ..
And screamed defiance thewhole armed world!
Yet these thy symbols. Scorn and ire
In thy deep soul but passing mood
But thou dost watch with solicitude
The plow6eds putting on their green attire
The blue smoke curling from the cottage FIRE,
The little schoolhouse, ny-scarred and rude,
Hafshrinking in the shadow of the wood,
And, ringed with loving ems, the tall white spire.
Nor wilt thou turn away from thoughts like these
In the still closes of the costered town,
Where generations of the book and gown
Lead their pure lives under the tranquil trees.
Such pensive ways thy sober spirit please.
And thou dost muse in many volume brown
From far-of golden ages drifted down
Old inspirations, raptnres, reveries.
Mother of Men whcIn the green hills enthrone,
From whose bright feet the rivers haste away,
Thou of the ages art--we Of day,
Yet we have loved thee and thy love have known.
And if with too faint breath reeds are blown
To carry the great burden Of thy lay
Yet notes among measures play
The shame will all be ours the honor thine alone