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THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS
IN NEW ENGLAND
BY FELICIA HEMANS
The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
Their giant branches tossed;
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o’er,
On the wild New England shore.
Not as the conquerer comes,
They, the true-hearted, came;
And the trumpet that sings of fame:
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear;
Amidst the storm they sang,
And the stars heard, and the sea;
To the anthem of the tree,
The ocean eagle soared
And the rocking pines of the forest roared,
This was their welcome home.
There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim-band:
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod;
Freedom to worship God.
BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?
We're twenty! We're twenty! Who says we are more?
please; Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's nothing
Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the mistake!
you will see not a sign of a flake!
We've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been
told, Of talking (in public) as if we were old: That boy we call 'Doctor," and this
“ Judge;" It's a neat little fiction,- of course it's all fudge.
That fellow's the “Speaker," — the one on the right;
Mr. Mayor," my young one, how are you to-night? That's our “ Member of Congress,” we say when we
chaff: There's the Reverend What's his name?- don't
make me laugh!
That boy with the grave mathematical look
There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain,
And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith,-
You hear that boy laughing? — You think he's all
fun; But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done; The children laugh loud as they troop to his call, And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of
Yes, we're boys, - always playing with tongue or
And I sometimes have asked, Shall we ever be men? Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, and gay, Till the last dear companion drops smiling away?
Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!
(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!
Long has it waved on high,
That banner in the sky;
And burst the cannon's roar:
the clouds no more!
Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
Where knelt the vanquished foe,
And waves were white below,
Or know the conquered knee:
The eagle of the sea!
O better that her shattered hulk
Should sink beneath the wave!
And there should be her grave:
Set every threadbare sail,