Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79. | | | | Middle States: Elizabeth, N. J. | | Ilium Fuit | | Edmund Clarence Stedman (1833–1908) |
| | Washington’s Headquarters
ONE by one they died,— | |
| Last of all their race; | |
| Nothing left but pride, | |
| Lace, and buckled hose. | |
| Their quietus made, | 5 |
| On their dwelling-place | |
| Ruthless hands are laid: | |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| See the ancient manse | |
| Meet its fate at last! | 10 |
| Time, in his advance, | |
| Age nor honor knows; | |
| Axe and broadaxe fall, | |
| Lopping off the Past: | |
| Hit with bar and maul, | 15 |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| Sevenscore years it stood: | |
| Yes, they built it well, | |
| Though they built of wood, | |
| When that house arose. | 20 |
| For its cross-beams square | |
| Oak and walnut fell; | |
| Little worse for wear, | |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| Rending board and plank, | 25 |
| Men with crowbars ply, | |
| Opening fissures dank, | |
| Striking deadly blows. | |
| From the gabled roof | |
| How the shingles fly! | 30 |
| Keep you here aloof,— | |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| Holding still its place, | |
| There the chimney stands, | |
| Stanch from top to base, | 35 |
| Frowning on its foes. | |
| Heave apart the stones, | |
| Burst its iron bands! | |
| How it shakes and groans! | |
| Down the old house goes! | 40 |
| |
| Round the mantel-piece | |
| Glisten Scripture tiles; | |
| Henceforth they shall cease | |
| Painting Egypt’s woes, | |
| Painting David’s fight, | 45 |
| Fair Bathsheba’s smiles, | |
| Blinded Samson’s might,— | |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| On these oaken floors | |
| High-shoed ladies trod; | 50 |
| Through those panelled doors | |
| Trailed their furbelows: | |
| Long their day has ceased; | |
| Now, beneath the sod, | |
| With the worms they feast,— | 55 |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| Many a bride has stood | |
| In yon spacious room; | |
| Here her hand was wooed | |
| Underneath the rose; | 60 |
| O’er that sill the dead | |
| Reached the family tomb: | |
| All, that were, have fled,— | |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| Once, in yonder hall, | 65 |
| Washington, they say, | |
| Led the New-Year’s ball, | |
| Stateliest of beaux! | |
| O that minuet, | |
| Maids and matrons gay! | 70 |
| Are there such sights yet? | |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| British troopers came | |
| Ere another year, | |
| With their coats aflame, | 75 |
| Mincing on their toes; | |
| Daughters of the house | |
| Gave them haughty cheer, | |
| Laughed to scorn their vows,— | |
| Down the old house goes! | 80 |
| |
| Doorway high the box | |
| In the grass-plot spreads; | |
| It has borne its locks | |
| Through a thousand snows; | |
| In an evil day, | 85 |
| From those garden-beds | |
| Now ’t is hacked away,— | |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| Lo! the sycamores, | |
| Scathed and scrawny mates, | 90 |
| At the mansion doors | |
| Shiver, full of woes; | |
| With its life they grew, | |
| Guarded well its gates; | |
| Now their task is through,— | 95 |
| Down the old house goes! | |
| |
| On this honored site | |
| Modern trade will build,— | |
| What unseemly fright | |
| Heaven only knows! | 100 |
| Something peaked and high, | |
| Smacking of the guild: | |
| Let us heave a sigh,— | |
| Down the old house goes! | | | | |
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