THE REJECTED "NATIONAL HYMNS"
I
By H—y W. L—ngf—w
BACK in the years when Phlagstaff, the Dane, was monarch
Over the sea-ribb'd land of the fleet-footed Norsemen,
Once there went forth young Ursa to gaze at the heavens—
Ursa—the noblest of all the kings and horsemen.
Musing, he sat in his stirrups and viewed the horizon,
Where the Aurora lapt stars in a North-polar manner,
Wildly he stared,—for there in the heavens before him
Fluttered and flam'd the original Star Spangled Banner.
II
By J—hn Gr——nl——f Wh——t——r
My Native Land, thy Puritanic stock
Still finds its roots firm-bound in Plymouth Rock,
And all thy sons unite in one grand wish—
To keep the virtues of Preservéd Fish.
Preservéd Fish, the Deacon stern and true
Told our New England what her sons should do,
And if they swerve from loyalty and right,
Then the whole land is lost indeed in night.
III
By Dr. Ol—v—r W—nd——l H—lmes
A diagnosis of our history proves
Our native land a land its native loves;
Its birth a deed obstetric without peer,
Its growth a source of wonder far and near.
To love it more, behold how foreign shores
Sink into nothingness beside its stores;
Hyde Park at best—though counted ultra-grand—
The "Boston Common" of Victoria's land.
IV
By Ralph W—ldo Em—r——n
Source immaterial of material naught,
Focus of light infinitesimal,
Sum of all things by sleepless Nature wrought,
Of which the normal man is decimal.
Refract, in Prism immortal, from thy stars
To the stars bent incipient on our flag,
The beam translucent, neutrifying death,
And raise to immortality the rag.
V
By W—ll——m C—ll—n B—y—nt
The sun sinks softly to his Ev'ning Post,
The sun swells grandly to his morning crown;
Yet not a star our Flag of Heav'n has lost,
And not a sunset stripe with him goes down.
So thrones may fall, and from the dust of those,
New thrones may rise, to totter like the last;
But still our Country's nobler planet glows
While the eternal stars of Heaven are fast.
VI
By N. P. W-llis
One hue of our Flag is taken
From the cheeks of my blushing Pet,
And its stars beat time, and sparkle
Like the studs on her chemisette.
Its blue is the ocean shadow
That hides in her dreamy eyes,
It conquers all men, like her,
And still for a Union flies.
VII
By Th-m-s B-il-y Ald—ch
The little brown squirrel hops in the corn,
The cricket quaintly sings,
The emerald pigeon nods his head,
And the shad in the river springs,
The dainty sunflower hangs its head
On the shore of the summer sea;
And better far that I were dead,
If Maud did not love me.
I love the squirrel that hops in the corn,
And the cricket that quaintly sings;
And the emerald pigeon that nods his head,
And the shad that gaily springs.
I love the dainty sunflower too,
And Maud with her snowy breast;
I love them all; but I love—I love—
I love my country best.
Robert Henry Newell.
("Orpheus C. Kerr.")