III
In fancy all are here. The night is o'er,
And through dissolving mists the morning gleams;
And clustered round their hearths we see once more
The heroes of our dreams.
Strong, tawny faces, some, and some are fair,
And some are marked with age's latest prime,
And, seer-like, browed and aureoled with hair
As hoar as winter-time.
The faces of fond lovers, glorified—
The faces of the husband and the wife—
The babe's face nestled at the mother's side,
And smiling back at life;
A bloom of happiness in every cheek—
A thrill of tingling joy in every vein—
In every soul a rapture they will seek
In Heaven, and find again!
IV
'Tis not a vision only—we who pay
But the poor tribute of our praises here
Are equal sharers in the guerdon they
Purchased at price so dear.
The angel, Peace, o'er all uplifts her hand,
Waving the olive, and with heavenly eyes
Shedding a light of love o'er sea and land
As sunshine from the skies—
Her figure pedestalled on Freedom's soil—
Her sandals kissed with seas of golden grain—
Queen of a realm of joy-requited toil
That glories in her reign.
O blessed land of labor and reward!
O gracious Ruler, let Thy reign endure;
In pruning-hook and ploughshare beat the sword,
And reap the harvest sure!