Part 4
To-day, as meet, we hold this page Of History before the world; While overhead, undimmed by age Our country's flag is all unfurled! O emblem of sweet Freedom's gift, Not vainly are thy stars displayed! To thee our eyes with pride we lift; Thy Stars and Stripes our strength have made. Hail! heroes of brave deeds well done; Hail! day that gave us Lexington!
O LAND OF OUR BIRTH
O Land of our Birth! whose bright colors are waving From mountain and valley; o'er sea and o'er land; A pathway of light, Lo! its glory is paving, To wane not, nor darken, at despot's command!
We stand 'neath the Flag that embodies the union, While History passes in stirring review; Our hearts, in remembrance, now hold proud communion With the record of deeds both gallant and true!
O Land of our Birth! 'tis a glory undying That sheds its soft light over each scene outspread; And Tyranny's hand, all in vain, is defying The Heaven-born Peace that to Freedom is wed!
We feel the glad throb of the patriot's devotion, That e'er to the Stars and the Stripes must be due, All else is engulfed in o'erwhelming emotion That finds its fulfillment the Red, White and Blue!
OUR FLAG
(DEDICATED TO THE CHILDREN OF AMERICA)
Fling to the breeze our noble Flag, And let it ride the gale! In time of War 'twill never lag; Its stars and stripes ne'er pale!
Give it to Heaven's breeze, once more, And let it proudly float! The emblem bear from shore to shore, To herald Freedom's note!
Look to it, Children! 'Tis a gift Most precious in its worth; No slave his streaming eyes need lift To curse his wretched birth!
No deed to bring the blush of shame Should flaunt beneath its folds; But ever brighter grow the fame Of work its plan unfolds.
Look to it, Children! Let it be As fair, to-day, as when The founders of our liberty Stood forth, God's noblemen!
When by the price of blood and tears They sealed that sacred deed, And cast aside all doubts and fears, To meet a Country's need.
Then let it float to Heaven's breeze, Beneath the sapphire dome; Far o'er the tops of waving trees; "For Country and for Home!"
Fling to the breeze our noble Flag, And let it ride the gale! In time of War 'twill never lag; Its stars and stripes ne'er pale!
In time of Peace how fair to see-- Sent forth by patriot hand-- This symbol of sweet Liberty Throughout our native land!
THE NATIONAL FLOWER
(THE GOLDEN ROD)
It grows 'mid tangled underwood, All brilliant in the fields, And o'er our hearts a subtile spell Its golden beauty wields.
Perchance some exile's foot hath pressed The road with weary tread, When lo! from out the wayside growth It rears its bonny head.
Not with the first faint tints of Spring Are its bright blossoms seen; But, radiant in its garb, and decked With Autumn's fruitful sheen.
Then hail! bright floweret of our choice-- With multiform design; Though many in thy blossom's wealth, Still one on parent vine!
IN MEMORIAM
ROLL MUFFLED DRUMS
(ARLINGTON, MAY 30, 1902.)
Roll, muffled drums, upon the air, and flags furl colors bright; For this is hallowed ground we tread, and here we learn Death's might. Our heroes, whose last rest is now within this silent spot, In lowly tents their bivouac find, though not by us forgot.
Wail forth, oh music, in soft strains, and learn, oh soul of man, As down the leafy aisles it throbs, how brief on earth the span Of Life, and turn from its rude clash and all its weary pain, To muse awhile on heroes gone and hear their praise again.
As words of orator now fall upon the listening ear, Life grows less close and Death is robbed of much of doubt and fear; For, as the burning words go forth upon the balmy wind, Men's thoughts are swayed by tones that sing the glory of mankind.
Then, muffled drums, roll on, and flags your brilliant colors furl; For here the Dead sleep on, and here no more may warfare hurl Its blighting torch, its screaming shell, its horror and its dread. Hark! on the summer wind is born a Requiem for the Dead!
THE DEAD MUSICIAN
(JULIUS EICHBERG)
Hushed is the magic of his touch That waked the soul to joyous praise! The vibrant strain we loved so much Still echoes on throughout the days; Days that had sped in steady round Thrilled by the songs his bow had bound.
Stilled is the music to our ears. In higher cycles, we believe, Brighter than earthly crown appears His genius, and shall meed receive: While in a rarer, fuller light, His touch still wakens to delight.
Then is he not as one who dies And whose brief day is ended here; For, in those worlds which Time defies, His melody grows still more clear; Then is he not as one whose light Is darkened by Death's envious night!
Thus while we wear within our thought The beauty of his god-like art That here in eager longing sought To voice the music in his heart, O bear in mind no truth divine Of art is lost--it needs must shine
Across the waste of shipwrecked lives As o'er the brightest path below; Where'er its meaning steadfast strives To sing its measure's stately flow, For Life is art--as art is Life-- And soars above unequal strife!
He gave to man the measure free The gods had given to his soul; And, touched to deeper ecstasy, Bound Music to his sweet control. O Artist true! we deem thy death But entrance into fuller breath.
But fuller grasp of thy great work; But deeper draughts from wells divine, Where disappointment ne'er may lurk, Where round thy head the glories shine Which crowns endeavor firm and true, And gives thee roses--never rue!
Here do we leave thee with thy brow Encircled with the roses sweet; Victory's token, crowning now Thine art with all our praises meet; Here do we leave thee, victor still, For Art bends not to Death's stern will!
THE NATION WEEPS
IN MEMORIAM
(_Wm. McKinley, Sept. 14, 1901._)
The nation weeps, while through the stricken land Stalks the grim specter raised by traitor hand; And on the air there rises dire lament For vigil, suffering and life now spent. Lo! through the tumult comes that voice of trust From soul of mortal triumphing o'er dust: "God's will, not ours;" O hero strong To rise above the thought of burning wrong Dealt by a dastard's hand! O spirit bright Seeing, while here, the heavy cross grow light, "His will be done; His guiding hand my way!" That heart, yet bound by racking pain, could say. The nation weeps. Anger and grief uplift On high their hands; O from this pain to sift Some grain of comfort and some thought of rest! Again those tender words, "God knoweth best." As man, not free from earthly fault was he, For mortal man may not perfection see; But yet, as man, he bore full well his part And freely spent his wealth of brain and heart. E'en as we think of him the silent land Draws near, and dimly by his bed there stand Lincoln and Garfield, now henceforth to be With him a martyr-trio grand and free. The nation weeps; O hearts be comforted! He needs no more your words, so feebly said; He heeds no more your thoughts of praise or blame, For he hath won for'er a higher fame. Soldier of cross and battlefield, his death Hath taught humanity that fleeting breath Of mortal glory here is but a slender span, And brief, indeed, on earth the life of man! Dear earth enfold him in your restful arms And guard him well, though past are all alarms; E'en though, while now at rest he calmly sleeps, The nation weeps! The stricken nation weeps!
IN MEMORIAM
(CHARLES HENSHAW DANA.)
_The lilies clustered fair and tall; I stood outside the garden wall._
--_Celia Thaxter._
Life's lilies grew along his way, In beauty clad, from day to day;
While music, with her lovely strains, Led him a captive in her chains.
And friends with generous hand and thought Unto his fireside greetings brought.
"I would have given my life to be The rose she touched so tenderly."
So sang the poet, and the tone Awoke for him sweet strains alone.
Ah! earthly love, how vain thou art To still the longings of the heart!
The Angel Azrael touched his hand, And life on earth yields the demand;
No more he stands "outside the gate," No more hath need to watch or wait!
IN MEMORIAM
(M. J. E., OBITT, JUNE 19, 1874.)
Who shall separate that spirit from the blessed love of Christ? He hath called her to Himself for whom the world hath not sufficed. Pure her spirit upward winging now its swift, untrameled way, Far beyond our aching vision, enters that serener day.
Patient, pure, she took the burden of this life unto His feet, Who hath called His loved and bid them come unto His presence sweet; All she leaveth, gladly answering her beloved Master's call, And for her the shadowy valley had no terror to appal.
Passed unto a life all glorious now a ransomed soul she bides,-- Ended all the weary watching,--crossed for aye life's troubled tides; So we leave her now possessing, to the full, Christ's own sweet love, And one more of life's best treasures lives and waits for us above!
CONSOLATION
(INTO LIGHT. DEC. 4, 1903, 4:50 A. M.)
"It is all right!" Yes, friend, it is all right, Although about thee close the shades of night To human eyes. To eyes that wake to light It is all right--it is all right!
"It is all right." E'en though we miss thee here. For thee are past the clouds, and all the fear Bred of this life which shall no more appear To thee as good; because thy sky is clear.
"It is all right." Kind soul, so bright and true, We miss thee now, we miss the happy view Of all that through the days of life here grew. The old hath passed--for thee hath dawned the new.
"It is all right!" Thy words, as fell the night, Before thine eyes had pierced the coming light, Fall on our ears a benison all bright; We can but say with thee "it is all right!"