Hail, glorious morning of Columbia’s
Celestial dawn of freedom! There shall be
In recognition of thy wondrous worth
By mighty millions this side of the sea,
Triumphant crowns of laurel wreathed for thee!
Welcome thy mammoth pageants, welcome all
The choral songs and melodies of glee,
The swelling shouts of praise that gladly fall
From mighty multitudes in anthems national!
High hangs the sacred banner, and the
Dance in the sunshine, while the breezes play
Around the glory of the hallowed bars
Gleaming in white and crimson; music gay
Floats from the patriot host and cheers array
Great shouts around its foldings. Long in state,
Flag of the brave and free, wave o’er this day
To bring the world rejoicings which await
The natal hours of might, the day we celebrate!
How fears the tyrant in his capital,
As myriad wires throb with the nation’s tale!
How despot trembles in his castled hall,
When liberty’s wild shouts of power prevail,
And give their gladness unto every gale!
Fetters and chains dissolve in holy trust,
Scepters and swords in puny weakness fail,
While crowns and thrones make monumental dust,
And kingly Might is dead, Oppression downward thrust.
Wide float thy wondrous paeans; loudly
Thy songs of holy rapture; and the roars
Of deep-mouthed cannons echo wild and strange
Through shouting cities; Patriotism pours
Her full libations on the trembling shores,
Till earth reels with her triumph; and the voice
Of millions mad with merriment far soars
From sea to ocean with entrancing noise,
Till nations hear the cry and continents rejoice.
Wave on, thou flag of freedom, and this
Still live in hearts of nations! O, thou Land,
Where Man was first the monarch, where the sway
Of birth exalted first was broken, stand
To guard the helpless with a mighty hand,
And give the weak protection; scout the ban
Which tyrants utter, and with growing band
Of noble freemen serve thy primal plan,
And bind all nations in the Brotherhood of Man!
“O, GENTLE SHADE OF QUIET WOODS.”
O, gentle shade of quiet woods,
Where nature dwells in leafy halls,
I love the sacred voice that falls
In music o’er thy solitudes!
Within thine arms the weary heart
Is hidden from the toils of men,
And pleasure makes ambition start
Into a nobler life again.
Among the fragrant shadows throng
With all the riches of their truth,
Glad echoes from the days of youth
And mingle into laughing song;
While angel fingers touch the keys
That slumber in the silent breast,
Till mem’ry wakes her lullabies
And childhood fancies rock to rest.