There was a captain-general who ruled in Vera Cruz,
And what we used to hear of him was always evil news:
He was a pirate on the sea—a robber on the shore,
The Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.
There was a Yankee skipper who round about did roam;
His name was Stephen Folger, and Nantucket was his home:
And having gone to Vera Cruz, he had...
The general dashed along the road
Amid the pelting rain;
How joyously his bold face glowed
To hear our cheers’ refrain!
His blue blouse flapped in wind and wet,
His boots were splashed with mire,
But round his lips a smile was set,
And in his eyes a fire.
A laughing word, a gesture kind,—
We did not ask for...
White wings of commerce sailing far,
Hot steam that drives the weltering wheel,
Tamed lightning speeding on the wire,
Iron postman on the way of steel,—
These, circling all the world, have told
The loss that makes us desolate;
For we give back to dust this day
The God-sent man who saved the state.
When black the sky and...
The General dashed along the road
Amid the pelting rain;
How joyously his bold face glowed
To hear our cheers’ refrain!
His blue blouse flapped in wind and wet,
His boots were splashed with mire,
But round his lips a smile was set,
And in his eyes a fire.
A laughing word, a gesture kind,—
We did not ask for...
Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud,
Not of war only, but detractions rude,
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed,
And on the neck of crownèd fortune proud
Hast reared God’s trophies, and his work pursued,
While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots inbued,
And Dunbar field...
GREAT Soul, and brave, 'tis good to think of thee,
And with a filial reverence raise the veil
From patriot valor, that ne'er sought of Fame
Her clarion-payment.
See we not again,
The unfinished furrow, the forsaken home,
The flying steed, urg'd by thy sleepless heart...
Somewhere upon the general Earth
Itself exist Today —
The Magic passive but extant
That consecrated me —
Indifferent Seasons doubtless play
Where I for right to be —
Would pay each Atom that I am
But Immortality —
Reserving that but just to prove
Another...
Though Time has silvered o'er thy honored head,
And left some traces on thy gallant form,
Upon thy soul no hoar-frost has he shed,
Nor chilled the heart that yet beats true and warm.
And he, in whom the glow of early feeling,
Youth's fire and...
