Classic Poem

Beauty for ashes! " when the patriot true
Trod streets deserted by their wonted feet,
And gazed upon the blackened ruins there, —
The work of rebels ere their swift retreat,
Amid the ashes of that town so doomed,
He saw rare beauty from the Father's hand,
As the pale Hyacinth looked up and smiled,
Like patient sufferer in a down-trod land.

" Beauty for ashes! " — blooming 'mid the wreck
Of cherished hearth-stones and beloved haunts,
Type of the glorious blossom yet to grow
And flourish here, in spite of traitor vaunts.
Slavery shall die, and Liberty survive,
As God shall live while earthly thrones decay.
Praise God, my soul! the Builder still hath power
To raise the structure vandals low would lay.

" Beauty for ashes! " Type of childhood's games,
Thou hyacinth from Hampton's ash-strewn streets,
Type also of the worse than childish course
Pursued by those who burn, as they retreat,
The homes of true hearts and the haunts of those
Who loved the flag which tells of liberty.
Oh, worse than folly! for a Judas-doom
Awaits the rebel foemen of the free.

" Beauty for ashes! " let the paeans sound!
The ruined towns along the path of war,
The desolation of Rebellion's land,
Tell to the lookers-on from homes afar,
That suff'ring follows sin; and, as the flower
Looked up and smiled amid the whelming gloom.
So looks the patriot, with faith in Right,
Peace to behold where Freedom's hosts may come.

" Beauty for ashes! " as the chains shall fall
From long-crushed millions in our guilty land,
So victory cometh to our arms again,
And peace, affrighted dove, will soon descend;
Then with perennial loveliness shall bloom
The flower of liberty, whose fragrance sweet,
As the magnolia of the sunny South,
Or Northern violet, all mankind shall greet.