Classic Poem

Over the wreck of his Atlanta he
Heard music in the rills;
“New lighted, like the herald Mercury”
On “heaven-kissing hills.”

And to the North, the East, the West he said:
“Lo! from the thunder-strife,
And from the blown, white ashes of the dead
We rise to larger life!”

And senates listened, and the states, made one,
Cried, with their captains grand:
“Over our glad breasts shines the same great sun,
And God lights all the land!”

And now!… From this old tenement—sublime,
Since here his steps were known—
I see him!… And he triumphs over time
And looks back to his own!

Friend of humanity! Where thou must be
Do the dashed rains feel chill?
Look from thy cold, bronzed pedestal and see
Thine own Atlanta still!

Look where she comes, and hear her brave heart beat—
No more despised, disowned,
But—even while kneeling at thy sculptured feet,
A very queen enthroned!

Look where her marts are busy! where the world
Comes in its peace and pride,
And as the lightnings round thy brow are hurled,
Think! 'Twas for this you died!

Beam, lovely world! With April and with May
His deathless brow defend!
What greater man than him—content to lay
His life down for his friend?