Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, JULY FOURTH; 1867, by LEVI BISHOP



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JULY FOURTH; 1867, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Awake, anew, columbia's anthems!
Last Line: Let distant ages swell the strain.
Subject(s): Fourth Of July; Freedom; Nations; Independence Day; Liberty


Awake, anew, Columbia's anthems!
Let future ages catch the strain;
Hail, sons of freedom, hail ye millions!
The nation's birth-day dawns again.

Now hear the loud artillery booming;
Hear church-bell, clarion, fife and drum;
See rockets, bonfires; grand commotion!
For lo! our jubilee is come.

To Seventy-Six cast back the vision;
Behold that brave, devoted band!
With what heroic, firm decision,
Like men, like demi-gods they stand!

That gloomy night of revolution,
With all its terrors grimly cast!
Weak hearts may shun the dread solution,
But stout ones brave it to the last.

Tho' Britain threat the traitor's halter,
And spread a fierce, consuming fire;
Her foes are men that never falter,
To fame immortal they aspire:

In darkest hour of tribulation,
They grasp the future, grand and free;
Of many States -- one mighty Nation:
Come, celebrate our jubilee!

"Press on to greatness and to glory,"
Upon the stars and stripes unfurled,
Foretells a proud but simple story,
To friends of freedom thro' the world.

This broad domain is truly ample,
The richest that the world has known;
And July Fourth a bright example,
To such as still in fetters groan.

Our freedom was our own creation;
The fathers gained it, we maintain;
Maintain, though tossed by agitation,
Like barque upon the rolling main: --

Maintain, though sectional defection
May thirst and strike for brother's blood;
True hearts shall be its firm protection,
Through raging tempest, sweeping flood.

The storm may threaten desolation --
Spread wild destruction far and wide;
And yet the work of restoration,
Shall rise above the surging tide.

To God of Armies let us render,
The glory, honor, lasting praise;
He is our Rock, our sure Defender,
To him our highest song we raise.

Then strike anew Columbia's anthems!
The nation's birth-day dawns again;
On each return, Oh, shout ye millions!
Let distant ages swell the strain.





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