Classic Poem

The April thrills along the hills,
The violets wake below,
But never to the thrill they knew
A hundred years ago,
What day the calls from pasture-walls
In echoing signals ran,
And swift replied the country-side
To what they here began.

‘Let it begin!’ a Voice within
The waiting farmers spake,—
His voice in whom the Aprils bloom,
In whom the Nations wake!
Old lands had yearned, old dreamers burned
Fair Freedom's day to win,
And still it fled,—the farmers said,
‘Now let iThere begin!’

And at the word a Nation stirred!
Without or king or caste,
Serene and strong to right their wrong,
The P EOPLE rose at last!
All quick to feel the common weal,
The many in the one,
Heart pledged to heart no more to part:—
And this was here begun!