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Chill airs, and wintry winds! my ear Has grown familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.
OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM,
AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER.
WHEN the dying flame of day
Where, before the altar, hung
Had been consecrated there.
And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while, Sung low in the dim, mysterious aisle.
Take thy banner! May it wave
Take thy banner! and, beneath
Guard it! God will prosper thee!
In the dark and trying hour,
In the breaking forth of power,
In the rush of steeds and men,
His right hand will shield thee then.
Take thy banner! But when night
Spare him! he our love hath shared!
as thou wouldst be spared!
Take thy banner! — and if e'er
Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier,
And the warrior took that banner proud,
SUNRISE ON THE HILLS.
STOOD upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
And woods were brightened, and soft gales
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me;-bathed in light, They gathered mid-way round the wooded height, And, in their fading glory, shone
Like hosts in battle overthrown,
As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance,
Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,