Fitz-Greene Halleck

There is an evening twilight of the heart,
When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.

There is an evening twilight of the heart,
When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.

I cannot spare the luxury of believing that all things beautiful are what they seem.

I cannot spare the luxury of believing that all things beautiful are what they seem.

Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of read more

Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet to be.

Strike--for your altars and your fires;
Strike--for the green graves of your sires.
God--and your native land!

Strike--for your altars and your fires;
Strike--for the green graves of your sires.
God--and your native land!

But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds read more

But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet to be.