THE BURIAL-PLACE AT LAUREL HILL. BY WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK. HERE the lamented dead in dust shall lie, Life's lingering languors o'er, its labours done; Where waving boughs, betwixt the earth and sky, Admit the farewell radiance of the sun. Here the long concourse from the murmuring town, And in this hallow'd spot, where Nature showers Her summer smiles from fair and stainless skies, Affection's hand may strew her dewy flowers, Whose fragrant incense from the grave shall rise. And here the impressive stone, engraved with words Say, wherefore should we weep, and wherefore pour There is an emblem in this peaceful scene: UNIV. OF 101 THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS Then, cold and pale, in distant vistas round, Disrobed and tuneless, all the woods will stand; Yet when the warm, soft winds shall rise in spring, So, when the tomb's dull silence finds an end, There shall the good of earth be found at last, THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS. BY CHARLES SPRAGUE. Two swallows, having flown into church during divine service, were apostrophized in the following stanzas. GAY, guiltless pair, What seek ye from the fields of heaven? Ye have no need of prayer, Why perch ye here, Where mortals to their Maker bend? Can your pure spirits fear The God ye never could offend? 102 THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS. Ye never knew The crimes for which we come to weep: Bless'd wanderers of the upper deep. To you 'tis given To wake sweet nature's untaught lays; Then spread each wing, Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands, In yon blue dome not rear'd with hands. Or if ye stay To note the consecrated hour, Teach me the airy way, And let me try your envied power. Above the crowd, On upward wings could I but fly, I'd bathe in yon bright cloud, 'T were heaven indeed, And nature's own great God adore. THE AMERICAN FLAG. BY JOSEPH R. DRAKE. WHEN Freedom from her mountain height She tore the azure robe of night, Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To guard the banner of the free, 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. 104 THE AMERICAN FLAG. Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, To where thy sky-born glories burn; Heave in wild wreathes the battle-shroud, Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall; Flag of the seas! on ocean wave Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave; Each dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee, In triumph o'er his closing eye. Flag of the free heart's hope and home! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. For ever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us! |