Classic Poem

'T WAS planted while the wintry winds
Athwart the earth were sweeping,
And deep beneath the snowy crust
The summer flowers lay sleeping.
" Take, " said the sower to the sod,
" The seed I love and cherish;
Though bleak December, I must trust
The grain — survive or perish! "

Stern winter round the struggling plant
Sent down, in furious rattle,
Its rain and sleet, its hail and snow,
Like shot and shell in battle.
Sharp was the air, and rough the soil,
The tender rootlets grew in;
And half sent up a verdant sprout,
And half was but a ruin.

Above the growing plant they stretched
A blue and crimson awning, —
Fair as the brilliant arch on high,
That canopies the dawning,
Relieved with silver stars the blue,
With white, the crimson edging,
The sacred soil with wavy lines,
Like ocean surges, hedging

But round the plant, while burning skies
With heat scorched all the garden,
The awning wet with tears like dew,
Stretched by the faithful warden,
Sheltered the flower with stamens dark,
Till, morning's redness breaking,
The foe that watched the flower with hate,
Slept, and knew no awaking.

And in the fragrant, sunlit air,
Around the nations breathing,
First in the circle of delights
The world's fair Eden wreathing,
Smiles the bright blossom, sweeter far
Than flowers of Eastern story,
Watered with tears and blood, and reared
To be a people's glory.

The seed was sown when pilgrim feet
On Plymouth Rock descended;
And watered, when the sires and sons
Their tears and labors blended;
And scorched by drought when conflict drove
Its plough of desolation;
And waved in glory, when, like flowers,
Bloomed here, a new-born nation.