Governor Wise

That He who lit our morning star's pure light

Will never blot it from the nation's sight;

That He will banish those portentous clouds

Which from so many its effulgence shrouds —

Which none will deem me Hamlet-mad when I

Say hang like banners on the darkened sky,

Suggesting perils in their warlike shape,

Which Heavenly Father grant that we escape!

Why touch upon these topics, do you ask?

Why blend these themes with my allotted task?

My answer's brief,‘ tis, Citizens, because

I see fierce warfare made upon the Laws.

A people's poets are that people's seers,

The prophet's faculty, in part, is theirs,

And thus‘ tis fit that from this statue's base,

Beneath great Washington's majestic face,

That I should point the dangers which menace

Our social temple's symmetry and grace.

But here I pause, for happier omens look,

And playing Flamen turn to Nature's book:

Where late rich Autumn sat on golden throne,

A stern usurper makes the crown his own;

The courtier woodlands, robbed of all their state,

Stripped of their pomp, look grim and desolate;

Reluctant conscripts, clad in icy mail,

Their captive pleadings rise on every gale.

Now mighty oaks stand like bereaved Lears;

Pennons are furled on all the sedgy spears

Where the sad river glides between its banks,

Like beaten general twixt his pompless ranks;

And the earth's bosom, clad in armor now,

Bids stern defiance to the iron plough,

While o'er the fields so desolate and damp

Invading Winter spreads his hostile camp.

And as he shakes his helmet's snowy plume

The landscape saddens into deeper gloom.

But yet ere many moons have flung to lea,

To begging billows of the hungry sea,

Their generous gold — like oriental queens —

A change will pass o'er all these wintry scenes;

There'll come the coronation of glad Spring,

Grander than any made for bride of king.