Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829.
By The Patriots GraveSamuel H. Jenks (1789?)
O
Where my spring-time of fame was pass’d,
Where the patriot’s prayer, and the hero’s blood
Pour’d fervently and fast—
O’er my earliest and brightest dream,
With the trumpet’s blast and the drum’s rude roll,
And the falchion’s dazzling gleam—
Long in peace I may there remain;
For the foeman’s standard now waveth not
On yonder battle-plain.
From its bondage of clay hath fled,
Make my humble grave on yon grassy knoll,
’T is a meet and quiet bed!
Like its withering branch am I;
Yet though ravens there may be heard to croak,
Heaven’s softest breeze shall sigh:—
Gently laving its verdant base;—
Of perennial bliss ’t is an emblem fair—
It shall mark my resting place!
Of the warrior press’d that mound;
But his comrades soon o’er the prostrate dead
May pour the farewell round.
Let me be with my comforter,
That the last fond gaze of expiring life
Be consecrate to her.
Be the memory’s employment free,
It shall cherish the look that affection gave,
In all eternity!
Thus to witness my banner furl’d:—
When the storm is spent, so the setting sun
Smiles on a parting world!