Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/93

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SUPPLICAMUS 1864
O laggard Sun! make haste to wake
From her long trance the slumbering earth
Make haste this icy spell to break,
That she may give new glories birth!

O April rain! so soft, so warm,
Bounteous in blessing, rich in gifts,
Drop tenderly upon her form,
And bathe the forehead she uplifts.

O springing grass! make haste to run
With swift feet o'er the meadows bare;
O'er hill and dale, through forest dun,
And where the wandering brooklets are!

O sweet wild flowers! the darksome mould
Hasten with subtle strength to rift;
Serene in beauty, meek yet bold,
Your fair brows to the sunlight lift!

O haste ye all! for far away
In lonely beds our heroes sleep,
O'er which no wife may ever pray,
Nor child nor mother ever weep.

No quaintly carved memorial stone
May tell us that their ashes lie