Classic Poem

Is this the day of doom to goose and cock,
That, screaming so, through yard and hedge they stalk?
The farmer marches out to muster-field;
But first some strutting tail a plume must yield!

'Tis Freedom's feast! 'Tis Independent Day!
At Pittsburg's gates are seen, in war's array,
The sons of plough and workshop, motley-clad,
The bald head here, and there the rose-lipped lad!

The captain's nodding feather glides through all,
'Mong white and copper-colored, short and tall!
The jacket here and next the long-tailed blue,
Here waving locks and there the peruke's queue!

" God's mercy on us! worthy neighbor there!
What an old gapped and rusty sword your bear!"
" My sire bore that when Saratog" was won,
Now for a peach-tree-prop it serves his son!

" Thus, dear to spring and victory, does it wear
The gaps of war and peace in union fair,
As the true hero's face unites the scars
Of tavern scuffles and of glorious wars!"

" Hey! friend, and what a snowy crest have you!
On some cock's tail I guess that feather grew!"
" Ah! sir, the cock no evil omen brings,
But morning redness in his flapping wings!"

" Keep back that paunch, old gaffer; if you don't,
Its jutting bow will spoil the line's fair front!"
" It is but one more bulwark for the land!
And well defend it, shall this manly hand!"

" Who wears that whiskey-flask behind him slung,
Like Osage squaw's pappoose behind her strung?"
" Sir, the good spirit of a cornfield dwells
In that canteen, and how of home it tells!"

" Ho! corporal, but thy queue half scares me now,
All stiff and spectral, like a naked bough."
" It is a bough, belonging to a tree,
Where many a bird sings notes of liberty!"

" Heyday! whose foal is that that capers there,
And tries to suck the ensign's chestnut mare?"
" Sir, be not wroth! who could have had the heart
The mother and her darling child to part?"

" Old fellow, that white sash of yours is fine,
But does not match exactly in the line."
" It is the bier-cloth of my child, and keeps
The sacred spot in memory where he sleeps!"

" The rainbow, children, which has many a hue,
Is colorless, I say, compared with you!"
" We are odd-looking, father, but don't storm,
You'll find our hearts are all in uniform!"

" Have you no banner but that smoky rag?
No chaplain here to consecrate the flag?"
" Each tree's a flag, that waves in all the land,
A flag embroidered by the holiest hand.

" In unseen priestly hand uplifted high,
Beneath a canopy of bright blue sky,
The sun, through sacrificial cloud-smoke, streams,
And like the Host of love and freedom gleams."