Excerpt
ADDRESS TO THE FLAG [After the Battle of Gettysburg.] Float in the winds of heaven, O tattered Flag!Emblem of hope to all the misruled world:Thy field of golden stars is rent and red—Dyed in the blood of brothers madly spilledBy brother-hands upon the mother-soil.O fatal Upas of the savage Nile,Transplanted hither—rooted—multiplied—Watered with bitter tears and sending forthThy venom-vapors till the land is mad,Thy day is done. A million blades are swungTo lay thy jungles open to the sun;A million torches fire thy blasted boles;A million hands shall drag thy fibers outAnd feed the fires till every root and branchLie in dead ashes. From the blackened soil,Enriched and moistened with fraternal blood,Beside the palm shall spring the olive-tree,And every breeze shall waft the happy songOf Freedom crowned with olive-twigs and flowers. Yea, Patriot-Flag of our old patriot-sires,Honored—victorious on an hundred fieldsWhere side by side for Freedom's mother-landHer Southern sons and Northern fighting fell,And side by side in glorious graves repose, I see the dawn of glory grander still,When hand in hand upon this battle-fieldThe blue-eyed maidens of the MerrimacWith dewy roses from the Granite Hills,And dark-eyed daughters from the land of palmsWith orange-blossoms from the broad St. Johns,In solemn concert singing as they go,Shall strew the graves of these fraternal dead.The day of triumph comes, O blood-stained Flag!Washed clean and lustrous in the morning lightOf a new era, thou shalt float againIn more than pristine glory o'er the landPeace-blest and re-united. On the seasThou shalt be honored to the farthest isle.The oppressed of foreign lands shall flock the shoresTo look upon and bless thee. Mothers shall liftTheir infants to behold thee as a starNew-born in heaven to light the darksome world.The children weeping round the desolate,Sore-stricken mother in the saddened homeWhereto the father shall no more return,In future years will proudly boast the bloodOf him who bravely fell defending thee.And these misguided brothers who would tearThy starry field asunder and would trailTheir own proud flag and history in the dust,Ere many years will bless thee, dear old Flag,That thou didst triumph even over them.Aye, even they with proudly swelling heartsWill see the glory thou shalt shortly wear,And new-born stars swing in upon thy fieldIn lustrous clusters. Come, O glorious dayOf Freedom crowned with Peace. God's will be done!God's will is peace on earth—good-will to men.The chains all broken and the bond all free,O may this nation learn to war no more;Yea, into plow-shares may these brothers beatTheir swords and into pruning-hooks their spears,Clasp hands again, and plant these battle-fieldsWith golden corn and purple-clustered vines,And side by side re-build the broken walls—Joined and cemented as one solid stoneWith patriot-love and Christ's sweet charity. FOOTNOTES
African slavery.
NEW-YEARS ADDRESS—JANUARY 1, 1866 [Written for the St. Paul Pioneer.] Good morning—good morning—a happy new year!We greet you, kind friends of the old Pioneer;Hope your coffee is good and your steak is well done,And you're happy as clams in the sand and the sun....