The freeman casting with unpurchased hand
The vote that shakes the turrets of the land.
* * * * *
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky.
* * * * *
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale.
* * * * *
_Urania_.
Yes, child of suffering, thou mayst well be sure,
He who ordained the Sabbath loves the poor!--
And, when you stick on conversation's burrs,
Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful _urs_.
* * * * *
_The Music-Grinders_.
You think they are crusaders, sent
From some infernal clime,
To pluck the eyes of Sentiment,
And dock the tail of Rhyme,
To crack the voice of Melody,
And break the legs of Time.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal_.
And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays.
* * * * *
_The Changeling_.
This child is not mine as the first was,
I cannot sing it to rest,
I cannot lift it up fatherly
And bless it upon my breast;
Yet it lies in my little one's cradle
And sits in my little one's chair,
And the light of the heaven she's gone to
Transfigures its golden hair.
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