THE KEARSARGE.
We welcome back the war-worn feet
That trod the Southern plain;
Have we no sign of praise to greet
Their brothers of the main?
No heart-warm word, no earnest way,
To show the thought that thrills
When the old Kearsarge rests to-day
Beneath New England's hills?
That trod the Southern plain;
Have we no sign of praise to greet
Their brothers of the main?
No heart-warm word, no earnest way,
To show the thought that thrills
When the old Kearsarge rests to-day
Beneath New England's hills?
Yes! by our faith in manly deeds
Done thus in noble guise,
The hands that fill our nation's needs
Are sacred to our eyes:
The hands that raised our Nation's stars
Above the solemn sea,
And held them, spite of wounds and scars,
Unconquered, stainless, free!
Done thus in noble guise,
The hands that fill our nation's needs
Are sacred to our eyes:
The hands that raised our Nation's stars
Above the solemn sea,
And held them, spite of wounds and scars,
Unconquered, stainless, free!
O moment bright with honest light,
And rich with honest grace,
When thus the New World held her right
Before the Old World's face;
And rich with honest grace,
When thus the New World held her right
Before the Old World's face;
