. The palace beautiful : and other poems . shall prove as the scythe to the yielding grain ;And the dauntless powr to spread it the free-born soul of the chainless North. 48 A YENGED. From tlie East, and West, and North they come,To the bugles call and the roll of drum ;And a form walks viewless by their side—A form that was born when the Old Man died ! The Soldier old in his grave may rest,Afar with his dead in the prairie West;But a red ray falls on the headstone there,Like a Gods reply to a Soldiers prayr. He may sleep in peace neath the greenwood pall,For the lands great
. The palace beautiful : and other poems . shall prove as the scythe to the yielding grain ;And the dauntless powr to spread it the free-born soul of the chainless North. 48 A YENGED. From tlie East, and West, and North they come,To the bugles call and the roll of drum ;And a form walks viewless by their side—A form that was born when the Old Man died ! The Soldier old in his grave may rest,Afar with his dead in the prairie West;But a red ray falls on the headstone there,Like a Gods reply to a Soldiers prayr. He may sleep in peace neath the greenwood pall,For the lands great heart hath heard his call;And a peoples Will and a peoples Might,Shall right the Wrong and proclaim the Right. The foe may howl at the fiat just,And gnash his fangs in the trodden dust;But the battle leaves his bark a the Freemans heel is on his neck. Not all in vain is the lesson taught, That a great souls Dream is the worlds New Thought; And the Scaffold markd with a death sublime Is the Throne ordaind for the coming THE SOLDIERS EPITAPH. nPHE woodlands caught the airy fire upon their vernalplumes,And echod back the waterfalls exultant, trilling laugh,And through the branches fell the light in slender goldenbloomsTo write upon the sylvan stream the Naiads epitaph. On either side the sleeping vale the mountains swelld away,Each, bred of Natures lore, a grand and solitary sage ;And brightly in the teeming plain the river went astray,Like an exhaustless vein of Youth wound through a green Old Age. 50 THE SOLDIERS EPITAPH. The turtle wood his gentle mate, where thickest hung theboughs,While round them fell the blossoms pluckd by robinswanton bills;And on its wings the zephyr caught the music of waft a strain responsive to the chorus of the hills. Twas in a nook beside the stream where grapes in twixt the trees the swaying vines were lost in leafyshowers,That fauns and satyrs, tamed to rest beneath the noondayspell,Gave silent ear an
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1865
