|NOW are the centenary days unrolled,
On whose swift round a Nation's theme is told-
Our Chieftain chosen with a land's acclaim,
With civic wreath encircling martial fame -
In fealty our love's deep proffer made,
Our debt to Washington in flushed hearts paid.
But while that name, in life renascent reigns,
One duty lives - one echoing void remains,
In shadow of Virginia's valley dim,
Where she was wont to muse - to dream of him,
Lies low the heart that all his pulsing shared,
Throbbed in his hopes, in pains and perils dared; -
The mother, whose unnoted scenes were done
When far-off paeans were sounding for the son.
1 A hundred Springs have waked the glad'ning ground,
And Autumns thrown their radiant cinctures round;
Yet we, insensate, yield not fruitful care,
While winds have planted weeds and wild flowers there.
0, heirs of him, bequeathed a ransomed Land,
Repay that life's rich meed with filial hand;
No more remiss in memory of the dead,
Who sleeps by lonely Rappahannock's Bed;
Set forth the Obelisk of a century's thought -
Redeem that Vale where War's red deeds were wrought;
Let brothers' blood that full her soil baptized,
Blent in her mound, be fused and crystallized;
Deep in her shrine amid the meadows sere,
In living lines serene as her, and clear,
Chisel that word above the chastened breast,
With shining love reluming shrouded rest -
"Mary, Mother of our Washington, lies here!"
|THE BATTLE OF SHIRLEY STRAIT
|THE MARTYR LIBERATOR