The Liberty Bell by E. S. Brooks, in St. Nicholas

(In Philadelphia, 1776)

Squarely prim and stoutly built,

Free from glitter and from guilt,

Plain--from lintel up to roof-tree and to belfry bare

and brown--

Stands the hall that not July--

While the folk throng anxious by--

Where the Continental Congress meets within the

Quaker town.

Hark! a stir, a sudden shout,

And a boy comes rushing out,

Signaling to, where his grandsire in the belfry,

waiting, stands;

"Ring!" he cries; "the deed is done!

Ring! they've signed, and freedom's won!"

And the ringer grasps the bell-rope with his strong

and sturdy hands;

While the bell with joyous note

Clanging from the brazen throat,

Rings the tidings, all-exultant--peals the news to

shore to sea;

"Man is man--a slave no longer;

Truth and right than might are stronger,

Praise to God! We're free; we're free!"

II New Orleans, 1885

Triumph of the builder's art,

Tower and turret spring and start--

As if reared by mighty genii for some prince of

eastern land.

Where the southern river flows,

And eternal summer glows--

Dedicate to labor's grandeur, fair and vast the

arches stand.

And, enshrined in royal guise,

Flower-bedecked 'neath sunny skies;

Old and time-stained, cracked and voiceless, but

where all may see it well;

Circled by the wealth and power

Of the great world's triumph-hour--

Sacred to the cause of freedom, on its dais rests

the bell,

And the children thronging near,

Yet again the story hear

Of the bell that rang the message, pealing out to

land and sea.

"Man is man--a slave no longer;

Truth and right than might are stronger,

Praise to God! We're free; we're free!"

III

Prize the glorious relic then,

With its hundred years and ten,

By the past a priceless heirloom to the future

handed down.

Still its stirring story tell,

Till the children know it well--

From the joyous Southern city to the Northern

Quaker town.

Time that heals all wounds and scars,

Time that ends all strifes and wars,

Time that turns all pains to pleasures, and can make

the cannon dumb,

Still shall join in firmer grasp,

Still shall knit in friendlier clasp,

North and South land in the glory of the ages yet

to come.

And, though voiceless, still the bell

Shall its glorious message tell,

Pealing loud o'er all the nation, lake to gulf, and

sea to sea:

"Man is man--a slave no longer;

Truth and right than might are stronger.

Praise to God! We'er free; we'er free!"

Give Us Men

God give us men, a time like this demands

Great hearts, strong minds, true faith and

ready hands:

Men whom the lust of office cannot kill;

Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy;

Men who posses opinions and will;

Men who love honor; men who will not lie;

Men who can stand before a demagogue,

And brave his treacherous flatteries without wink-

ing;

Tall men, sunburnt, who live above the fog,

In public duty, and in private thinkging;

For while the rabble, with its thumb-worn creeds,

Its large professions, and its little deeds,

Mingle in selfish strife, lo! freedom weeps,

Wrong rules the land and waiting justice sleeps.

Woman On The Field Of Battle by Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Where hath not woman stood,

Strong in affection's might?

A reed, upborne

By au o'ermaturing current!

Gentle and lovely form,

What didst thou here,

When the fierce battle storm

Bore down the spear?

Banner and shivered crest

Beside thee strown,

Tell that amidst the best

Thy work was done!

Low lies the stately head,

Earth bound the free:

How gave those haughty dead

A place to thee?

Slumberer! thine early bier

Friends should have crowned,

Many a flower and tear

Shedding around.

Soft voices, dear and young,

Mingling their swell,

Should o'er thy dust have sung

Earth's last farewell.

Sisters, above the grave

Of thy repose,

Should have bid violets wave

With the white rose.

Now must the trumpet's note

Savage and shrill,

For requiem o'er thee float,

Thou fair and still!

And the swift charger sweep,

In full career,

Trampling thy place of sleep--

Why camest thou here?

Why?--Ask the true heart why

Woman hath been

Ever, where brave men die,

Unshrinking seen?

Unto this harvest ground

Proud reapers came,

Some for that stirring sound,

A warrior's name;

Some for the stormy play,

And joy of strife,

And some to fling away

A weary life.

But thou, pale sleeper, thou,

With the slight frame,

And the rich locks, whose glow

Death cannot tame;

Only one thought, one power,

Thee could have led,

So through the tempest's hour

To lift thy head!

Only the true, the strong,

The love, whose trust

Woman's deep soul too long

Pours on the dust.

All Quiet Along The Potomac

All quiet along the Potomac, they say,

Except now and then a stray picket

Is shot as he walks on his beat to and fro,

By a rifleman hid in the thicket.

'Tis nothing, a private or two now and then

Will not count in the news of the battle;

Not an officer lost, only one of the men,

Moaning out all alone the death rattle.

All quiet along the Potomac tonight,

Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming,

Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon,

O'er the light of the watch fires, are gleaming;

A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night wind,

Through the forest leaves softly is creeping,

While stars up above, with their glittering eyes,

Keep guard for the army is sleeping.

There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread,

As he tramps from the rock to the fountain,

And thinks of the two in the low trundle bed,

Far away in the cot on the mountain.

His musket falls slack, and his face, dark and grim,

Grows gentle with memories tender,

As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep,

For their mother, may Heaven defend her.

The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then,

That night when the love yet unspoken

Leaped up to his lips when low-murmured vows,

Were pledged to be ever unbroken.

Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eye

He dashes off tears that are welling,

And gathers his gun closer up to its place

As if to keep down the heart-swelling.

He passes the fountain, the blasted pine tree

The footstep is lagging and weary;

Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light,

Toward the shades of the forest so dreary.

Hark! Was it the night wind that rustled the leaves,

Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing?

It looks like a rifle -- "Ah! Mary, good-bye!"

And the lifeblood is ebbing and splashing.

All quiet along the Potomac tonight,

No sound save the rush of the river;

While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead --

The picket's off duty forever.

Author Unknown

The American Flag by Joseph Rodman Drake

When Freedom from her mountain heightUnfurled her standard to the air

She tore the azure robe of night

And set the stars of glory there!

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes

The milky baldric of the skies,

And striped its pure celestial white

With streakings of the morning light;

Then, from his mansion in the sun,

She called her eagle-bearer down,

And gave into his mighty hand,

The symbol of her chosen land.

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly

The sign of hope and triumph high!

When speaks the signal-trumpet tone

And the long line comes gleaming on.

Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,

Has dimmed the glistening bayonet

Each soldier eye shall brightly turn

To where thy sky-born glories burn,

And as his springing steps advance,

Catch war and vengeance from the glance;

And when the cannon-mouthings loud

Heaven in wild wreaths the battle-shroud

And gory sabers rise and fall,

Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall;

Then shall thy meteor-glances glow,

And cowering foes shall sink beneath

Each gallant arm that strikes below

That lovely messenger of death.

Flag of the seas! on ocean wave

Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave;

When death. careening on the gale,

Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,

And frighted waves rush wildly back

Before the broadside's reeling rack,

Each dying wanderer of the sea

Shall look at once to heaven and thee.

And smile to see thy splendors fly

In triumph o'er his closing eye.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home,

By angel hands to valor given!

Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy hues were born in heaven.

Forever float that standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe but falls before us,

When Freedom's soil beneath our feet,

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us!"

(the last 4 lines are by Halleck.)

"And fixed as yonder orb divine.

That saw thy bannered blaze unfurled,

Shall thy proud stars resplendent shine,

The guard and glory of the world."

Eulogy For A Veteran

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the Gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the mornings hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.

Author Unknown

"I have a rendezvous with death" by Alan Seeger

I have a rendezvous with Death

At some disputed barricade,

When Spring comes back with rustling shade,

And apple-blossoms fill the air-

I have a rendezvous with Death

When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand

And lead me into his dark land

And close my eyes and quench my breath-

It may be I shall pass him still.

I have a rendezvous with Death

On some scarred slope of battered hill,

When Spring comes round again this year

And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep

Pillowed in silk and scented down,

Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,

Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,

Where hushed awakenings are dear...

But I've a rendezvous with Death

At midnight in some flaming town,

When Spring trips north again this year,

And to my pledged word am true,

I shall not fail that rendezvous.