"OLD IRONSIDES " [Written with reference to the proposed breaking up of the famous U. S. frigate "Constitution."] BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! And burst the cannon's roar: Shall sweep the clouds no more! Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, No more shall feel the victor's tread, O better that her shattered hulk And give her to the god of storms, I wrote some lines once on a time And thought, as usual, men would say They were so queer, so very queer, I called my servant, and he came; "These to the printer," I exclaimed, "There'll be the devil to pay." He took the paper, and I watched, He read the next; the grin grew broad, And shot from ear to ear; He read the third; a chuckling noise The fourth; he broke into a roar; Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, THE LAST LEAF BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES I saw him once before, The pavement-stones resound They say that in his prime, Not a better man was found But now he walks the streets, So forlorn; And he shakes his feeble head, The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has pressed And the names he loved to hear And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough THE VOICELESS BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES We count the broken lyres that rest The wild-flowers who will stoop to number? And noisy Fame is proud to win them: Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them! Nay, grieve not for the dead alone Whose song has told their hearts' sad story,Weep for the voiceless, who have known The cross without the crown of glory! Not where Leucadian breezes sweep O'er Sappho's memory-haunted billow, O hearts that break and give no sign Till Death pours out his cordial wine Slow-dropp'd from Misery's crushing presses,- |