Classic Poem

PRETTY E DENTON ! dreaming on the Sound,
In thy level cotton-fields is a burial ground
Near a planter's dwelling, past a miller's creek:
(Hold the foxhounds back whilst the tombs I seek!)

To the States and province both of foreign birth,
Guests of courteous Johnstons even in the earth,
Iredell and Wilson like water oaks of gnarl
Sleep, as often in one bed, by shining Albemarle.

Washington's own Justices on his bench supreme,
Here fortuitous they meet in everlasting dream,
Young in years, in wisdom deep and mutual partisan,
They lie like David in the cave, asleep with Jonathan.

How the rigid cedars grow, drinking of their skulls!
As the lawyer from their minds unknowing of them culls.
How the cotton lint is blown on their rusted grill!
How the bluebird sings to them and they a century still!

As their court in robes is bowed to the bench recess,
While the bar stands to the sound sudden of " O yes! "
These preceding in their shrouds that God-visaged one,
Cried unto the final Judge their caller, Washington.

Ye who dream that passions quit Justices divine,
Pause and read Iredell's memoir by Wilson's unmarked shrine!
He who Independence signed, on the Bench grew pale,
Lest the Sheriff drag him down to the debtors' jail.
Knightly Raleigh who, hard by, planted Roanoke,
Harried to the axe and block by abusive Coke,
No more wantoned in career than this Scottish chief
On whose breast the humid light twines the myrtle leaf.

Broken-spirited he hid where he might not dwell,
By the wealth-untroubled home of his friend Iredell, —
He of Ireton's Cromwell race, of his name undone,
Followed Wilson on the bier, out from Edenton.

As they rode their circuits round, till the General Term,
They assemble where the Chief Justice is the Worm;
In the air their Institutes like a shedding tree
Annually blossom forth greenest Liberty.