George B. Wallis

AS stars, before the morning light,

With the thin azure seem to mix;

Thus ye are fading from our sight,

Spirits of Seventy-six.

And, veterans of that stormy strife,

A health to you—“A nation’s praise

Gladden the winter of your life,

The evening of your days.”

Fathers of Freedom! ye have built

A temple worthy of your stock—

Cemented, by the blood ye spilt,

Into a solid rock.

And may it stand till time shall cease,

The idol of our country’s youth;

As firm as Justice—fair as Peace:

As beautiful as Truth.

Old soldiers! you may boast to be

Some of the hope-forlorn, that hurl’d

The haughty tyrant of the sea

Off from the western world.

And he is now supremely bless’d

Who, on the field of battle, still

Can show its scars upon his breast,

Or tell of Bunker’s hill.

Or of that dark and wintery night,

When Providence was pleased to bear

The army, safely, in its flight

Across the Delaware.

Beneath the flag of stripes and stars

What deeds of valour have been done!

Among the freeborn sons of Mars,

It stood by Washington—

“A pillar of a cloud by day,

A pillar of fire throughout the night;”

The solace of the weary way,

The spirit of the fight.

Our tree was planted by the sword—

’Tis nurtured by the plough and spade:

And nations now, of one accord,

Rejoice beneath its shade.

And, hoary warriors, while ye stay

Among us, it shall be our aim

To manifest a will to pay

The debt ye well may claim.

And to the graves of Freedom’s band

The striplings of our sons shall bring

The future daughters of the land,

To strew the flowers of spring.

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