BY the rude bridge that arched the flood, | |
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, | |
Here once the embattled farmers stood, | |
And fired the shot heard round the world. | |
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The foe long since in silence slept; | 5 |
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; | |
And Time the ruined bridge has swept | |
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. | |
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On this green bank, by this soft stream, | |
We set to-day a votive stone; | 10 |
That memory may their deed redeem, | |
When, like our sires, our sons are gone. | |
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Spirit, that made those heroes dare | |
To die, and leave their children free, | |
Bid Time and Nature gently spare | 15 |
The shaft we raise to them and thee. |
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