Too long has the land's soul slumbered
In wearying dreams of gain,
With prosperous falsity cumbered
And dulled with bribes, as a bane.
Yes, cunning is civilized evil,
And crafty the gold-baited snare;
But virtue, in fiery upheaval,
May cast fine device to the air.
Bring us the simple and stalwart
Purpose of earlier days.
Come! Far better than all were't—
Our precepts, our pride, and our lays—
That the people in spirit should tremble
With heed of the God-given Word;
That we cease from our boast, nor dissemble,
But follow where truth's voice is heard.
Come to us, mountain-dweller,
Leader, wherever thou art;
Skilled from thy cradle, a queller
Of serpents, and sound to the heart!
Modest and mighty and tender;
Man of an iron mold;
Honest, fine-grained, our defender;—
American-souled!
THE NAME OF WASHINGTON
[Read before the Sons of the Revolution, New-York, February 22, 1887]
Sons of the youth and the truth of the nation,
Ye that are met to remember the man
Whose valor gave birth to a people's salvation,
Honor him now; set his name in the van.
A nobleness to try for,
A name to live and die for—
The name of Washington.