Classic Poem

If the winter skies be o'er us,
And the winter months before us,
When the tempest, Boreal falling,
Hurls his icy bolts appalling,
Let us yet thy soul inherit,
Equable and nice in spirit!
Whom in turbulent December
With still peace we can remember.

Muses should thy birthday reckon
As to one their foretastes beckon;
Who in thought and action never
Could the right from self dissever;
Taken with no serpent charming,
By no tyranny's alarming;
In thy sure conviction better
Than in blurred Tradition's fetter;
Would the State such souls might cherish,
And her liberties ne'er perish!

Age must dart no frost to harm thee,
Fell reverses ne'er alarm thee,
Having that within thy being
Still the good in evil seeing;
Faithful heart and faithful doing
Bring Life's forces humbly suing.
Now we bid the dear Penates
(Inward guardians with whom Fate is)
And the Lar, whose altar flaming
From thy household merits naming,
And Vertumnus we solicit,
Whose return brings no deficit,
Bacchus with his ivy thyrses,
And Pomona's friendly verses,
Or what other joys may be
Pouring from Antiquity:

Let them o'er thy roof, displaying
Happiest stars, stand brightly raying!

In thy thought poetic splendor
This late age spontaneous render,
Shed o'er acts of love divine,
Fit for thee and fit for thine!