Stand up, and look out of the mansion
That adorns the old scene of the past,
On the fruitage of hope—the expansion
Of the future your vigils forecast!
While the shadows of Hood have been wheeling
Away from the face of the sun,
What a glamour of change has been stealing
O'er the fields that you painfully won!
Like the castles that fade at cock-crowing
The enchantments arise and advance
Where the cities of commerce are glowing
Like pearls in the braid of Romance;
For a state, in her shimmering armor,
Like Pallas Athena has come,
And her aegis is fringed with the wanner
Refulgence that circles our home.
That adorns the old scene of the past,
On the fruitage of hope—the expansion
Of the future your vigils forecast!
While the shadows of Hood have been wheeling
Away from the face of the sun,
What a glamour of change has been stealing
O'er the fields that you painfully won!
Like the castles that fade at cock-crowing
The enchantments arise and advance
Where the cities of commerce are glowing
Like pearls in the braid of Romance;
For a state, in her shimmering armor,
Like Pallas Athena has come,
And her aegis is fringed with the wanner
Refulgence that circles our home.
As for you, you are gray, and the thunder
Of the battle has smitten each brow
Where the freshness of youth was turned under
By Time's immemorial plow;
But the pictures of Memory linger
Like the shadows that turn to the east,
And will point with a tremulous finger
To the things that have perished and ceased;
For the trail and the foot-log have vanished,
The canoe is a song and a tale,
And the flickering church-spire has banished
The uncanny redman from the vale;
The cayuse is no longer in fashion,
He is gone with a flutter of heels,
Of the battle has smitten each brow
Where the freshness of youth was turned under
By Time's immemorial plow;
But the pictures of Memory linger
Like the shadows that turn to the east,
And will point with a tremulous finger
To the things that have perished and ceased;
For the trail and the foot-log have vanished,
The canoe is a song and a tale,
And the flickering church-spire has banished
The uncanny redman from the vale;
The cayuse is no longer in fashion,
He is gone with a flutter of heels,
