Public Domain Poetry And Stories - One Of The Signers by John Greenleaf Whittier
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One Of The Signers

    By John Greenleaf Whittier



    O storied vale of Merrimac
    Rejoice through all thy shade and shine,
    And from his century's sleep call back
    A brave and honored son of thine.

    Unveil his effigy between
    The living and the dead to-day;
    The fathers of the Old Thirteen
    Shall witness bear as spirits may.

    Unseen, unheard, his gray compeers
    The shades of Lee and Jefferson,
    Wise Franklin reverend with his years
    And Carroll, lord of Carrollton!

    Be thine henceforth a pride of place
    Beyond thy namesake's over-sea,
    Where scarce a stone is left to trace
    The Holy House of Amesbury.

    A prouder memory lingers round
    The birthplace of thy true man here
    Than that which haunts the refuge found
    By Arthur's mythic Guinevere.

    The plain deal table where he sat
    And signed a nation's title-deed
    Is dearer now to fame than that
    Which bore the scroll of Runnymede.

    Long as, on Freedom's natal morn,
    Shall ring the Independence bells,
    Give to thy dwellers yet unborn
    The lesson which his image tells.

    For in that hour of Destiny,
    Which tried the men of bravest stock,
    He knew the end alone must be
    A free land or a traitor's block.

    Among those picked and chosen men
    Than his, who here first drew his breath,
    No firmer fingers held the pen
    Which wrote for liberty or death.

    Not for their hearths and homes alone,
    But for the world their work was done;
    On all the winds their thought has flown
    Through all the circuit of the sun.

    We trace its flight by broken chains,
    By songs of grateful Labor still;
    To-day, in all her holy fanes,
    It rings the bells of freed Brazil.

    O hills that watched his boyhood's home,
    O earth and air that nursed him, give,
    In this memorial semblance, room
    To him who shall its bronze outlive!

    And thou, O Land he loved, rejoice
    That in the countless years to come,
    Whenever Freedom needs a voice,
    These sculptured lips shall not be dumb



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