One voice, one people, one in heart And soul, and feeling, and desire! Re-light the smouldering martial fire, Sound the mute trumpet, strike the lyre, The hero deed can not expire, The dead still play their part. Raise high the monumental stone! A nation's fealty is theirs, And we are the rejoicing heirs, The honored sons of sires whose cares We take upon us unawares, As freely as our own. We boast not of the victory, But render homage, deep and just, To his—to their—immortal dust, Who proved so worthy of their trust No lofty pile nor sculptured bust Can herald their degree. No tongue need blazon forth their fame— The cheers that stir the sacred hill Are but mere promptings of the will That conquered then, that conquers still; And generations yet shall thrill At Brock's remembered name. Some souls are the Hesperides Heaven sends to guard the golden age, Illuming the historic page With records of their pilgrimage; True Martyr, Hero, Poet, Sage: And he was one of these. Each in his lofty sphere sublime Sits crowned above the common throng, Wrestling with some Pythonic wrong, In prayer, in thunder, thought, or song; Briareus-limbed, they sweep along, The Typhons of the time. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1956, A FAIRY TALE by JAMES GALVIN WESTERN CIVILIZATION by JAMES GALVIN TO ATLANTA UNIVERSITY - ITS FOUNDERS AND TEACHERS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TRANSPOSITIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A SEA-SHORE GRAVE by SIDNEY LANIER CAPUT MORTUUM by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |