Classic Poem

On passing Plattsburgh on Lake Champlain.

Hush, this is sacred ground,
Sacred the wave;
Here were true warriors bound,
Here is their grave!
Blue mountains dimly smile
Over each little isle,
Passing clouds pause awhile
Over the brave.

Foeman sleeps near the foe,
Silent and cold!
Passions all hushed below, —
Tales that are told! —
Flowers the green-sod have crowned,
Summer birds softly sound,
Murmur the waves around,
Peace to the bold!