Page:In Bohemia (1886).djvu/98

92 Vain dream of olden time! The robber strength That swept its will is overmatched at length. Here, not with swords but smiles the people greet The foreign spy in harbor, granary, street; Here towns unguarded lie, for here alone Nor caste, nor king, nor privilege is known. For home our farmer ploughs, our miner delves, A land of toilers, toiling for themselves; A land of cities, which no fortress shields. Whose open streets reach out to fertile fields; Whose roads are shaken by no armies' tread; Whose only camps are cities of the dead! Go stand at Arlington the graves among: No ramparts, cannons there, no banners hung, No threat above the Capitol, no blare To warn the senators the guns are there.

But never yet was city fortified Like that sad height above Potomac's tide; There never yet was eloquence in speech Like those ten thousand stones, a name on each; No guards e'er pressed such claims on court or king As these Prastorians to our Senate bring;