Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1916-07-20


Than count the vacant years the love-
less know
Reign with the rose her ono imperia,
hour
Than live the summer long a meaner
flower
Be glad thy crown is greener for the
snow.
Thou sit'st 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 4:
For thou art f1tly compassed in thy
BY fields Of clover, reddening to the
breeze
Hummed over by the hlithe and labor
ing bees
And guarded by the mountains calm and
great
Swarm after swarm 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 fly, far west and south
and north;
Their murmur fills the land from shore
to shore
And if but few return, what myrads
more
Dream Of thy face and bless thee for
their birth!
They dream OF thee OF them dost thou
not dream
Didst thou not show them In their hap
py prime
Thy deep wood secrets-teach them in
their time
The lapsng legend of the lingering
stream
Awe with the shadow lure them with
the gleam-
And at the first touch Of the autumn
rime
Weave them the glamour Of magic
cline.
And paint their palace with the rain
bows beam.
And they are still thy children, though
their feet
Follow hard trails in the tumultuous
town,
Or to the mighty waters have gone
down;
And though they long have heard the
surges beat
On alien shores. and alien tongues re-
peat
Their names, and Of new men have
earned renown,
They are thy children still. and every
crown
They win is thine. and makes thy dream
more sweet.
At times thy musings take darker hue.
And thou hast sight OF some war fur
rowed field
charged and wheeled
When liberty her perilled trumpet
blew,
And down through all the wales thy
heroes flew.
With thy cold deathless valor fired
and steeled.
To make the glorious legend on thy
shield,
Freedom and Unity" forever true.
Sometimes with its old scorn thy lip Is
curled
Thinking how on thy borders, east and
west
And south and north. thy foes around
thee pressed.
And all their bolts upon thy head were
hurled
When thy young flag was suddenly I'M
And the lone eagle left his stormy
nest,
Soaring above grim Mansfleld's dark
ening crest
And screamed defiance to the whole
armed world.
Yet these are not thy symbols scorn
In thy deep soul are but a passing
But thou dost watch with sweet solicit
The plowfields putting on their green
attire.
The blue smoke curling from the cot
tage fire.
The little schoolhouse, many Scared
and rude,
Half-shrinking in the shadow Of the
wood
And. ringed with loving elms. the tall
white spire.
Now wilt thou turn away from hours like
In the still closes Of the cloistered
town.
Where generations Of the book and
gown.
Lead their pure lives under the Tranquil
Such pensive ways thy sober spirit
And thou dost muse in many a volume
From far-off golden ages drifted
down
Old inspirations. raptures reveries
Mother of men! whom 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 II with too faint breath our reeds
are blown
To carry the great burden of thy lay
Yet some true notes among our meas
ures play