GEORGE SEWALL BOUTWELL. 



But when in Age I find, 



Young courage and young mind, 

 And eyes that see their morning vision clear, 



Like him but lately dead, 



Who after four-score led 

 Our battle-charge, I marvel and revere. 



Thou gav'st him life, O State, 



Who wert assigned by Fate 

 The noblest task of all the modern years : 



To clear a little space 



Where conscience should have place 

 To worship God, and men with men be peers ; 



A clearing by the sea 



Where none should crook the knee 

 To king or pope or other man-made lord; 



A haunt where peace might dwell 



With folk who lov'd her well, 

 But still for Duty's sake would draw the sword. 



Beloved State, and true ! 



Thy blessed gospel flew 

 Throughout the West and loos'd the Old World's chains; 



Thy thoughts like lifeblood run 



Thro' ev'ry loyal son 

 Who feels the stir of freedom in his veins. 



He was thy son ! he heard 



In youth thy puissant word 

 And prov'd the obligation of thy breed ; 



Obey'd thy civic call, 



Rose high, nor fear'd to fall 

 Confessing thine instruction by his deed. 



His laurel'd name shall stand 



With theirs that sav'd the Land 

 When mad Rebellion shook our cornerstone; 



His courage never quail'd 



His counsel never fail'd 

 Till Discord ceas'd and Wrong was overthrown. 



'J5 



To shine in such a strife 

 Were crown enough for life ; 

 The newer labors to new hands belong ; 

 But when the younger brood 



Set bad instead of good, 



He rose, again a youth, and smote the wrong. 



