LONGFELLOW.

Dunstan Times, Issue 1041, 31 March 1882, Page 3

LONGFELLOW.

The minstrel’s voice is songleas n -w, I u-ith’s stamp is on that honor’d brow ; No dirge for him, no sigh noi tear— We’ll shout above the poet's bier Excelsior ! Ho swept bis harp-strings clear and strong ’Til trees became alive with song, And every trembling leaflet stirred To music at his made word— Excelsior 1 He touched a chord, and on the scene Appeared the fair Evangeline In Norman cap and kittle blue, Acadie’s virgin pure aud true Excelsior ! He peopled Strasburg’a lofty sniro. With spirits from the realms of fire. Then put a soul in every hell To triumph o’er ttie powers of hell— Excelsior ! Across the harp bis fingers ran, And Plymouth’s martial Puritan Stepp’d into life, aud madly strove With Alden in the game of love— Excelsior ! He struck out, as he passed along, From sledge aud anvil sparks of song, Until the forge, ’neath chestnut tree, Was tilled ivith manly minstrelsy— Excelsior ! He gathered from the Northland plains Old echoes wild of Indian strains ; Ho Beautified the songs or yore, Then gave tin m to the woods once more — Excelsior 1 He gave new music to each rill, He clothed the prairie aud the hill With rich romance ; each forest pino Shook with new melody divine— Excelsior ! A grand old bard, with spotless page, An honor to his land and age, Pull ripe for Hcav’n, has passed away ; And Nature sings above his clay— Excelsior ! Thomas Bracken.