For pains my torn spirit is feeling,
No balsam from earth it receives:
I go to the tree, that hath healing
To drop on my wounds from its leaves.
A child that is weary with roaming,
Returning in gladness to see
A home and a parent, I ’m coming—
My Father, I hasten to thee!
[THE RISING MONUMENT.]
Rise in thy solemn grandeur, calm and slow,
As well befits thy purpose and thy place:
Great Speaker! rise, not suddenly, to show
The earth forever sacred at thy base.
Strong as the rocky frame-work of the globe,
Proportioned fair, in altitude sublime,
With freedom’s glory round thee as a robe,
Rise gently—then defy the power of time.
To future ages, from thy lofty site,
Speak in thy mighty eloquence, and tell
That where thou art, on Bunker’s hallowed height,
Our Warren and his valiant brethren fell.
Say, it was here the vital current flowed,
Purpling the turf, amid the mortal strife
For man’s great birthright, from the breasts, that glowed
With love of country, more than love of life.
Thou hast thy growth of blood, that, gushing warm
From patriot bosoms, set their spirits free:
All, who behold, shall venerate thy form,
And bow before thy genius, Liberty.
Here fell the hero and his brave compeers,
Who fought and died to break a people’s chain:
The place is sacred to Columbia’s tears.
Poured o’er the victims for a nation slain.