Washington's Statue
By Henry Theodore Tuckerman (1813-1871) |
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THE QUARRY whence thy form majestic
sprung
Has peopled earth with grace,
Heroes and gods
that elder bards have sung,
A bright and peerless race;
But from its sleeping veins ne'er rose before
A shape of
loftier name
Than his, who Glory's wreath with meekness
wore,
The noblest son of Fame.
Sheathed is the sword
that Passion never stained;
His gaze around is cast,
As if the joys of Freedom, newly gained,
Before his
vision passed;
As if a nation's shout of love and pride
With music filled the air,
And his calm soul was lifted
on the tide
Of deep and grateful prayer;
As if the
crystal mirror of his life
To fancy sweetly came,
With
scenes of patient toil and noble strife,
Undimmed by
doubt or shame;
As if the lofty purpose of his soul
Expression would betray,�
The high resolve Ambition to
control,
And thrust her crown away!
O, it was well in
marble firm and white
To carve our hero's form,
Whose
angel guidance was our strength in fight,
Our star amid
the storm!
Whose matchless truth has made his name
divine,
And human freedom sure,
His country great, his
tomb earth's dearest shrine,
While man and time endure!
And it is well to place his image there
Upon the soil he
blest:
Let meaner spirits, who its councils share,
Revere that silent guest!
Let us go up with high and
sacred love
To look on his pure brow,
And as, with
solemn grace, he points above,
Renew the patriot's vow! |
By
Henry Theodore Tuckerman (1813-1871)
Listed April 4, 2013 |
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