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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416683" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Liberty</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">New Castle, July 4, 1878</div><div style="margin:10px 0">or a hundred years the pulse of time<br>Has throbbed for Liberty;<br>For a hundred years the grand old clime<br>Columbia has been free;<br>For a hundred years our country's love,<br>The Stars and Stripes, has waved above.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Away far out on the gulf of years--<br>Misty and faint and white<br>Through the fogs of wrong--a sail appears,<br>And the Mayflower heaves in sight,<br>And drifts again, with its little flock<br>Of a hundred souls, on Plymouth Rock.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Do you see them there--as long, long since--<br>Through the lens of History;<br>Do you see them there as their chieftain prints<br>In the snow his bended knee,<br>And lifts his voice through the wintry blast<br>In thanks for a peaceful home at last?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though the skies are dark and the coast is bleak,<br>And the storm is wild and fierce,<br>Its frozen flake on the upturned cheek<br>Of the Pilgrim melts in tears,<br>And the dawn that springs from the darkness there<br>Is the morning light of an answered prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The morning light of the day of Peace<br>That gladdens the aching eyes,<br>And gives to the soul that sweet release<br>That the present verifies,--<br>Nor a snow so deep, nor a wind so chill<br>To quench the flame of a freeman's will!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Days of toil when the bleeding hand<br>Of the pioneer grew numb,<br>When the untilled tracts of the barren land<br>Where the weary ones had come<br>Could offer nought from a fruitful soil<br>To stay the strength of the stranger's toil.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Days of pain, when the heart beat low,<br>And the empty hours went by<br>Pitiless, with the wail of woe<br>And the moan of Hunger's cry--<br>When the trembling hands upraised in prayer<br>Had only the strength to hold them there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Days when the voice of hope had fled--<br>Days when the eyes grown weak<br>Were folded to, and the tears they shed<br>Were frost on a frozen cheek--<br>When the storm bent down from the skies and gave<br>A shroud of snow for the Pilgrim's grave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Days at last when the smiling sun<br>Glanced down from a summer sky,<br>And a music rang where the rivers run,<br>And the waves went laughing by;<br>And the rose peeped over the mossy bank<br>While the wild deer stood in the stream and drank.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the birds sang out so loud and good,<br>In a symphony so clear<br>And pure and sweet that the woodman stood<br>With his ax upraised to hear,<br>And to shape the words of the tongue unknown<br>Into a language all his own--</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>1</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Sing! every bird, to-day!<br>Sing for the sky so clear,<br>And the gracious breath of the atmosphere<br>Shall waft our cares away.<br>Sing! sing! for the sunshine free;<br>Sing through the land from sea to sea;<br>Lift each voice in the highest key<br>And sing for Liberty!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>2</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Sing for the arms that fling<br>Their fetters in the dust<br>And lift their hands in higher trust<br>Unto the one Great King;<br>Sing for the patriot heart and hand;<br>Sing for the country they have planned;<br>Sing that the world may understand<br>This is Freedom's land!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>3</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Sing in the tones of prayer,<br>Sing till the soaring soul<br>Shall float above the world's control<br>In freedom everywhere!<br>Sing for the good that is to be,<br>Sing for the eyes that are to see<br>The land where man at last is free,<br>O sing for liberty!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A holy quiet reigned, save where the hand<br>Of labor sent a murmur through the land,<br>And happy voices in a harmony<br>Taught every lisping breeze a melody.<br>A nest of cabins, where the smoke upcurled<br>A breathing incense to the other world.<br>A land of languor from the sun of noon,<br>That fainted slowly to the pallid moon,<br>Till stars, thick-scattered in the garden-land<br>Of Heaven by the great Jehovah's hand,<br>Had blossomed into light to look upon<br>The dusky warrior with his arrow drawn,<br>As skulking from the covert of the night<br>With serpent cunning and a fiend's delight,<br>With murderous spirit, and a yell of hate<br>The voice of Hell might tremble to translate:<br>When the fond mother's tender lullaby<br>Went quavering in shrieks all suddenly,<br>And baby-lips were dabbled with the stain<br>Of crimson at the bosom of the slain,<br>And peaceful homes and fortunes ruined--lost<br>In smoldering embers of the holocaust.<br>Yet on and on, through years of gloom and strife,<br>Our country struggled into stronger life;<br>Till colonies, like footprints in the sand,<br>Marked Freedom's pathway winding through the land--<br>And not the footprints to be swept away<br>Before the storm we hatched in Boston Bay,--<br>But footprints where the path of war begun<br>That led to Bunker Hill and Lexington,--<br>For he who &quot;dared to lead where others dared<br>To follow&quot; found the promise there declared<br>Of Liberty, in blood of Freedom's host<br>Baptized to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, there were times when every patriot breast<br>Was riotous with sentiments expressed<br>In tones that swelled in volume till the sound<br>Of lusty war itself was well-nigh drowned.<br>Oh, those were times when happy eyes with tears<br>Brimmed o'er as all the misty doubts and fears<br>Were washed away, and Hope with gracious mien,<br>Reigned from her throne again a sovereign queen.<br>Until at last, upon a day like this<br>When flowers were blushing at the summer's kiss,<br>And when the sky was cloudless as the face<br>Of some sweet infant in its angel grace,--<br>There came a sound of music, thrown afloat<br>Upon the balmy air--a clanging note<br>Reiterated from the brazen throat<br>Of Independence Bell: A sound so sweet,<br>The clamoring throngs of people in the streets<br>Were stilled as at the solemn voice of prayer,<br>And heads were bowed, and lips were moving there<br>That made no sound--until the spell had passed,<br>And then, as when all sudden comes the blast<br>Of some tornado, came the cheer on cheer<br>Of every eager voice, while far and near<br>The echoing bells upon the atmosphere<br>Set glorious rumors floating, till the ear<br>Of every listening patriot tingled clear,<br>And thrilled with joy and jubilee to hear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Stir all your echoes up,<br>O Independence Bell,<br>And pour from your inverted cup<br>The song we love so well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Lift high your happy voice,<br>And swing your iron tongue<br>Till syllables of praise rejoice<br>That never yet were sung.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ring in the gleaming dawn<br>Of Freedom--Toll the knell<br>Of Tyranny, and then ring on,<br>O Independence Bell.--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ring on, and drown the moan,<br>Above the patriot slain,<br>Till sorrow's voice shall catch the tone<br>And join the glad refrain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ring out the wounds of wrong<br>And rankle in the breast;<br>Your music like a slumber-song<br>Will lull revenge to rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ring out from Occident<br>To Orient, and peal<br>From continent to continent<br>The mighty joy you feel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ring! Independence Bell!<br>Ring on till worlds to be<br>Shall listen to the tale you tell<br>Of love and Liberty!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Liberty--the dearest word<br>A bleeding country ever heard,--<br>We lay our hopes upon thy shrine<br>And offer up our lives for thine.<br>You gave us many happy years<br>Of peace and plenty ere the tears<br>A mourning country wept were dried<br>Above the graves of those who died<br>Upon thy threshold. And again<br>When newer wars were bred, and men<br>Went marching in the cannon's breath<br>And died for thee and loved the death,<br>While, high above them, gleaming bright,<br>The dear old flag remained in sight,<br>And lighted up their dying eyes<br>With smiles that brightened paradise.<br>O Liberty, it is thy power<br>To gladden us in every hour<br>Of gloom, and lead us by thy hand<br>As little children through a land<br>Of bud and blossom; while the days<br>Are filled with sunshine, and thy praise<br>Is warbled in the roundelays<br>Of joyous birds, and in the song<br>Of waters, murmuring along<br>The paths of peace, whose flowery fringe<br>Has roses finding deeper tinge<br>Of crimson, looking on themselves<br>Reflected--leaning from the shelves<br>Of cliff and crag and mossy mound<br>Of emerald splendor shadow-drowned.--<br>We hail thy presence, as you come<br>With bugle blast and rolling drum,<br>And booming guns and shouts of glee<br>Commingled in a symphony<br>That thrills the worlds that throng to see<br>The glory of thy pageantry.<br>0And with thy praise, we breathe a prayer<br>That God who leaves you in our care<br>May favor us from this day on<br>With thy dear presence--till the dawn<br>Of Heaven, breaking on thy face,<br>Lights up thy first abiding place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Whitcomb+Riley">James Whitcomb Riley</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416683" data-title="Liberty de James Whitcomb Riley" data-description="New Castle, July 4, 1878

or a hundred years the pulse of time
Has throbbed for Liberty;
For a hundred years the grand old clime
Columbia has been free;
For a hundred years our country's love,
The Stars and Stripes, has waved above.

Away far out ..."></div>
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