LINES TO TWO FRIENDS,
WITH ONE OF GENERAL WASHINGTON'S HAIRS.
If you would like a reverie.
Listen awhile, dear friends, to me;
And let a frail and slender hair
To times long passed, your fancy bear:
Where, seated on his mother's knee,
The infant Washington you see.
There, twined around her finger white,
In a soft ringlet, golden bright,
This very hair shall meet your sight.
Who could, in that round baby face,
The hero of his country trace?
To auburn hue it darkens now,
Curling around the youthful brow
That shades his beaming, kindling eye,
Prophetic of futurity.
Now glory fills his manly breast,
And by his helmet it is prest;
His country's weal his bosom warms,
And victory crowns the hero's arms.
Mayhap, on some successful day,
Resting from the battle fray,
From his forehead, pained with care,
His honored hand has stroked this hair:
That hand that bore his country's sword,
By foeman feared, by friend adored.
And now a nation's shouts ascend,
To their deliverer, father, friend.
Haply, for he was gentle, meek,
A tear of joy has dewed his cheek;
And, haply, while it lingered there.
The sacred drop has touched this hair.
Now it assumes a darker shade;
The color deepens but to fade:
Thus autumn leaves more brightly glow,
Thus joys still brighten as they go.
A nation's groans now rend the skies;—
The father of his country dies.
Think that, when on his dying bed,
This hair adorned his sacred head;
Perhaps, when yielding up his breath,
The cold, chill, dewy damp of death
Has bathed it, ere affection can,
(As though it were a talisman,)
With holy awe and tearful zeal,
The precious relic, trembling, steal.
The temple is decayed and gone,
Where dwelt the soul of Washington:
The smallest fragment that remains,
That consecration still retains.
Affection casts a lustre round
The meanest trifle of the ground;
But o'er this hair a halo glows,
Which a whole country's love bestows.
Affection loves the meanest thing,
Because affection's offering.
Love dares to give what has no worth,
Save from the heart that sent it forth;
But most desires the humble lot
To give what makes itself forgot.
Listen awhile, dear friends, to me;
And let a frail and slender hair
To times long passed, your fancy bear:
Where, seated on his mother's knee,
The infant Washington you see.
There, twined around her finger white,
In a soft ringlet, golden bright,
This very hair shall meet your sight.
Who could, in that round baby face,
The hero of his country trace?
To auburn hue it darkens now,
Curling around the youthful brow
That shades his beaming, kindling eye,
Prophetic of futurity.
Now glory fills his manly breast,
And by his helmet it is prest;
His country's weal his bosom warms,
And victory crowns the hero's arms.
Mayhap, on some successful day,
Resting from the battle fray,
From his forehead, pained with care,
His honored hand has stroked this hair:
That hand that bore his country's sword,
By foeman feared, by friend adored.
And now a nation's shouts ascend,
To their deliverer, father, friend.
Haply, for he was gentle, meek,
A tear of joy has dewed his cheek;
And, haply, while it lingered there.
The sacred drop has touched this hair.
Now it assumes a darker shade;
The color deepens but to fade:
Thus autumn leaves more brightly glow,
Thus joys still brighten as they go.
A nation's groans now rend the skies;—
The father of his country dies.
Think that, when on his dying bed,
This hair adorned his sacred head;
Perhaps, when yielding up his breath,
The cold, chill, dewy damp of death
Has bathed it, ere affection can,
(As though it were a talisman,)
With holy awe and tearful zeal,
The precious relic, trembling, steal.
The temple is decayed and gone,
Where dwelt the soul of Washington:
The smallest fragment that remains,
That consecration still retains.
Affection casts a lustre round
The meanest trifle of the ground;
But o'er this hair a halo glows,
Which a whole country's love bestows.
Affection loves the meanest thing,
Because affection's offering.
Love dares to give what has no worth,
Save from the heart that sent it forth;
But most desires the humble lot
To give what makes itself forgot.