Today, the Nineteenth of April by Kimberly Stutevoss

Today, the Nineteenth of April by Kimberly Stutevoss

This year, till middle of April, the rain

Fell down hard and poured like many cats and dogs

It soaked the fields and cities everywhere

In place of the freshly sprouting flowers

Some of the new flowers are protected

Beneath the newly grown leaves of the spring

With the breeze and rain, a winter’s leaving

The rain is a sign of new spring to come

I lay in my bed on the cold spring day

Snuggled in my sheets and reading a book

I pray for the spring to be warm with sun

Shining down upon the fields and cities

It’s time of roses, earth to joy is wed

The beauty of fresh spring comes in ancient

Colors truer than they were when founded

Spring blooms in Boston in red, white, and blue

To the North the patriot’s hearts come down

Through the town of Lexington to fight for

The liberty that the people wanted

For many years against the Brits and Tories

I have gotten to the last chapter of

The book about the great Revolution

Their past spring and my spring are intertwined

And I can see myself transform to it

We run through the city to fight for the

Liberty and for Freedom no stopping

Until, we together can persevere

Our blood may seal the victory against

The Brits, but God will shields the Right!

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The Nineteenth of April

BY LUCY LARCOM

This year, till late in April, the snow fell thick and light:

Thy truce-flag, friendly Nature, in clinging drifts of white,

Hung over field and city: now everywhere is seen,

In place of that white quietness, a sudden glow of green.

 

The verdure climbs the Common, beneath the leafless trees,

To where the glorious Stars and Stripes are floating on the breeze.

There, suddenly as Spring awoke from Winter’s snow-draped gloom,

The Passion-Flower of Seventy-six is bursting into bloom.

 

Dear is the time of roses, when earth to joy is wed,

And garden-plot and meadow wear one generous flush of red;

But now in dearer beauty, to her ancient colors true,

Blooms the old town of Boston in red and white and blue.

 

Along the whole awakening North are those bright emblems spread;

A summer noon of patriotism is burning overhead:

No party badges flaunting now, no word of clique or clan;

But “Up for God and Union!” is the shout of every man.

 

Oh, peace is dear to Northern hearts; our hard-earned homes more dear;

But freedom is beyond the price of any earthly cheer;

And freedom’s flag is sacred; he who would work it harm,

Let him, although a brother, beware our strong right arm!

 

A brother! ah, the sorrow, the anguish of that word!

The fratricidal strife begun, when will its end be heard?

Not this the boon that patriot hearts have prayed and waited for;—

We loved them, and we longed for peace: but they would have it war.

 

Yes; war! on this memorial day, the day of Lexington,

A lightning-thrill along the wires from heart to heart has run.

Brave men we gazed on yesterday, to-day for us have bled:

Again is Massachusetts blood the first for Freedom shed.

 

To war,—and with our brethren, then,—if only this can be!

Life hangs as nothing in the scale against dear Liberty!

Though hearts be torn asunder, for Freedom we will fight:

Our blood may seal the victory, but God will shield the Right!