The Admiral's Return.

(Written on the occasion of the bringing of the body of Admiral John Paul Jones to the United States for reburial.)


Brave ships are these that bear thee home again
    From under far-off skies--brave flags that fly
    Above the deck whereon thine ashes lie,
Waiting their urn beyond the alien main;
The nations pause to view thy funeral train
    As slowly moving up 'twixt sea and sky
    It comes with stately pomp, and Liberty
Holds out her hands and calls thy name in vain.
And yet, mayhap, in vision vague and sweet,
    Another sight thou seest beyond the boast
Of patriot pride--beside the new-born fleet,
    Spectral and strange, no guest for such a host,
Yet making thy home-coming all complete,
    The old "Bon Homme Richard's" unlaid ghost.

Charles Hamilton Musgrove

No biography available

Charles Hamilton Musgrove

The Feast Of The Passions.

Charles Hamilton Musgrove, Simple Poetry

Quatrains.

Charles Hamilton Musgrove, Simple Poetry

The North Wind.

Charles Hamilton Musgrove, Simple Poetry

The Voice Of The North.

Charles Hamilton Musgrove, Simple Poetry

English

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        A century of silent suns
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        His dust were as another's dust;
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Laden with spoil of the South, fulfilled with the glory of achievement,
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At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay,
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Then far away to the south uprose
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Down upon us heavily runs,
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...

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    Mother, with unbowed head
        Hear thou across the sea
    The farewell of the dead,
        The dead who died for thee.
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    For, saving thee, themselves they could not save.

    To keep the house unharmed
        Their fathers built so fair,
    Deeming endurance armed
        Better than brute despair,
    They found the secret of the word that saith,
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Now, smiling friends and shipmates all,
Since half our battle 's won,
A broadside for our Admiral!
Load every crystal gun
Stand ready till I give the word, -
You won't have time to tire, -
And when that glorious name is heard,
Then hip! hurrah! and fire!

Bow foremost sinks the rebel craft, -
Our eyes not sadly turn
And see the pirates huddling aft
To drop their raft astern;
Soon o'er the sea-worm's destined prey
The lifted wave shall close, -
So perish from the face of day
All Freedom's banded foes!

But ah! what splendors fire the sky
What glories greet the morn!
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Its heavenly hues new-born!
Its red fresh dyed in heroes' blood,
Its peaceful white more pure,
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    Stand by to reckon up your battleships
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        A thousand men a-piece down below.
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                Stand by, etc.


    See them on the forebridge signalling--
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