The Sword and the Staff

The sword of the hero!
    The staff of the sage!
Whose valor and wisdom
    Are stamped on the age!
Time-hallowed mementos
    Of those who have riven
The sceptre from tyrants,
    "The lightning from heaven!"

This weapon, O Freedom!
    Was drawn by the son,
And it never was sheathed
    Till the battle was won!
No stain of dishonor
    Upon it we see!
'Twas never surrendered--
    Except to the free!

While Fame claims the hero
    And patriot sage,
Their names to emblazon
    On History's page,
No holier relics
    Will liberty hoard
Than FRANKLIN's staff, guarded
    By WASHINGTON's sword.

George Pope Morris

George Pope Morris was an American editor, poet, and songwriter. Born on October 10, 1802, he made significant contributions to American literature and music. Morris co-founded and edited the New York Evening Mirror, where he published works by Edgar Allan Poe and others. He is perhaps best known for his song "Woodman, Spare That Tree!" and his role in the early 19th-century literary scene. Morris died on July 6, 1864, leaving behind a legacy of editorial and creative work that influenced many American writers and musicians.

George Pope Morris

Oh, This Love!

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

My Lady Waits for Me.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

The Sister's Appeal. A Fragment.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

The Suitors.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

English

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Champions of Liberty.

The pride of all our chivalry,
    The name of Worth will stand,
While throbs the pulse of liberty
    Within his native land:
The wreath his brow was formed to wear,
A nation's tears will freshen there.

The young companion of his fame,
    In war and peace allied,
With garlands woven round his name,
    Reposes at his side:
Duncan, whose deeds for evermore
Will live amid his cannon's roar.

Gates, in his country's quarrel bold,
    When she to arms appealed,
Sought like the Christian knights of old,
    His laurels on the field:
Where victory rent the welkin-dome,
He earned--a sepulchre at home.

The drum-beat of the bannered brave,
    The requiem and the knell,
The volley o'er the soldier's grave,
    His comrades' l...

George Pope Morris

The Hero's Legacy.

Upon the couch of death,
    The champion of the free,
Gave, with his parting breath,
    This solemn legacy:--
"Sheathed be the battle-blade,
    "And hushed the cannons' thunder:
"The glorious UNION GOD hath made,
    "Let no man put asunder!
"War banish from the land,
    "Peace cultivate with all!
"United you must stand,
    "Divided you will fall!
"Cemented with our blood,
    "The UNION keep unriven!"
While freemen heard this counsel good,
    His spirit soared to heaven.

George Pope Morris

Arms And The Man. - Heroes And Statesmen.

Of their great names I may record but few;
He who beholds the Ocean white with sails
And copies each confuses all the view,
        He paints too much - and fails.

His picture shows no high, emphatic light,
Its shadows in full mass refuse to fall,
And as its broken details meet the light
        Men turn it to the wall.

Of those great names but few may pass my lips,
For he who speaks of Salamis then sees
Not men who there commanded Grecian ships -
        But grand Themistocles!

Yet some I mark, and these discreetly take
To grace my verse through duty and design,
As one notes barks that leave the broadest wake
        Upon the stormy Brine.

These rise before me; and there Mason stands
The Constitution-maker firm and bold,
Like...

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A Hero of the Revolution.

Let not a tear be shed!
    Of grief give not a token,
Although the silver thread
    And golden bowl be broken!
A warrior lived--a Christian died!
Sorrow's forgotten in our pride!

Go, bring his battle-blade,
    His helmet and his plume!
And be his trophies laid
    Beside him in the tomb,
Where files of time-marked veterans come
With martial tramp and muffled drum!

Give to the earth his frame,
    To moulder and decay;
But not his deathless name--
    That can not pass away!
In youth, in manhood, and in age,
He dignified his country's page!

Green be the willow-bough
    Above the swelling mound,
Where sleeps the hero now
    In consecrated ground:
Thy epitaph, O Delavan!
God's noblest work--an honest man!

George Pope Morris

Draw The Sword, O Republic!

By the blue sky of a clear vision,
And by the white light of a great illumination,
And by the blood-red of brotherhood,
Draw the sword, O Republic!
Draw the sword!

For the light which is England,
And the resurrection which is Russia,
And the sorrow which is France,
And for peoples everywhere
Crying in bondage,
And in poverty!

You have been a leaven in the earth, O Republic!
And a watch-fire on the hill-top scattering sparks;
And an eagle clanging his wings on a cloud-wrapped promontory:
Now the leaven must be stirred,
And the brands themselves carried and touched
To the jungles and the black-forests.
Now the eaglets are grown, they are calling,
They are crying to each other from the peaks -
They are flapping their passionate wings in...

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Seventy-Six.

Before the Battle.


The clarion call of liberty
    Rings on the startled gales!
The rising hills reverberate
    The rising of the vales!
Through all the land the thrilling shout
    Swift as an arrow goes!
Columbia's champions arm and out
    To battle with her foes!


After the Battle


The bugle-song of victory
    Is vocal in the air!
The strains, by warrior-voices breathed,
    Are echoed by the fair!
The eagle, with the wreath, blood-bought,
    Soars proudly to the sun,
Proclaiming the "good fight is fought,
    And the great victory won!"

George Pope Morris