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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Poems by Elizabeth H. Whittier (search)
s of home to the grave they bear him down, The glory of his fourscore years resting on him like a crown. The mourning of the many bells, the drooping flags, all seem Like some dim, unreal pageant passing onward in a dream; And following with the living to his last and narrow bed, Methinks I see a shadowy band, a train of noble dead. Tis a strange and weird procession that is slowly moving on, The phantom patriots gathered to the funeral of their son! In shadowy guise they move along, brave Otis with hushed tread, And Warren walking reverently by the father of the dead. Gliding foremost in the misty band a gentle form is there, In the white robes of the angels and their glory round her hair. She hovers near and bends above her world-wide honored child, And the joy that heaven alone can know beams on her features mild. And so they bear him to his grave in the fullness of his years, True sage and prophet, leaving us in a time of many fears. Nevermore amid the darkness of our wild and
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Appendix (search)
power shall chain thy utterance there, In God's free sun and freer air? A voice is calling thee, From all the martyr graves Of those stern men, in death made free, Who could not live as slaves. The slumberings of thy honored dead Are for thy sake disquieted. So let thy Faneuil Hall By freemen's feet be trod, And give the echoes of its wall Once more to Freedom's God! And in the midst unseen shall stand The mighty fathers of thy land. Thy gathered sons shall feel The soul of Adams near, And Otis with his fiery zeal, And Warren's onward cheer; And heart to heart shall thrill as when They moved and spake as living men. Not on Potomac's side, With treason in thy rear, Can Freedom's holy cause be tried: Not there, my State, but here. Here must thy needed work be done, The battle at thy hearth-stone won. Proclaim a new crusade Against the foes within; From bar and pulpit, press and trade, Cast out the shame and sin. Then speak thy now-unheeded word, Its lightest whisper shall be heard.