The Mines.
That we hear the cry of the Treasury's need
Where trampled bosoms exultant bleed?
Heart-eloquence, are thy bright lips dumb?
Soul-power, is thy arm of puissance numb?
Open the vaults where the gold dust shines!
Give us the key of the silver mines!
Where trampled bosoms exultant bleed?
Heart-eloquence, are thy bright lips dumb?
Soul-power, is thy arm of puissance numb?
Open the vaults where the gold dust shines!
Give us the key of the silver mines!
Was the treasure stored by the Nation's God,
In the mountain cave and the valley sod,
To purchase a circlet of diamonds rare
For the snowy brow of a millionaire?
Was it hidden away in the mountain ledge,
Lapped under the hem of the streamlet's edge,
To trail brocade through a festive place,
Or cover a shoddy breast with lace?
Was it sifted in ashes of golden light,
O'er blossoming valley and rocky height,
To wrap pollution in tissues fine,
Or sparkle and fade in the blush of wine?
Oh! is it not rightly the Nation's dower,
A treasure kept for the stormy hour,
To help our hope to its lofty aim—
To free our Land from the blush of shame—
To strengthen the power of the crimson wave
That cancels, forever, the name of slave—
In the mountain cave and the valley sod,
To purchase a circlet of diamonds rare
For the snowy brow of a millionaire?
Was it hidden away in the mountain ledge,
Lapped under the hem of the streamlet's edge,
To trail brocade through a festive place,
Or cover a shoddy breast with lace?
Was it sifted in ashes of golden light,
O'er blossoming valley and rocky height,
To wrap pollution in tissues fine,
Or sparkle and fade in the blush of wine?
Oh! is it not rightly the Nation's dower,
A treasure kept for the stormy hour,
To help our hope to its lofty aim—
To free our Land from the blush of shame—
To strengthen the power of the crimson wave
That cancels, forever, the name of slave—
47
