Читать книгу A Book of Christian Sonnets - william Allen - Страница 17

13. TO 4 PRESIDENTS ALIVE. 1826. (notes)

Ye've run a race of glory here below,

Such as no rolls of hist'ry can display;—

Have held o'er Freedom's land a gentle sway,

Have seen its prosp'rous tide unceasing flow,

And now, retir'd, a welcome peace ye know.

Methinks ye calmly smile—as well ye may—

At those, who mingle in the public fray,

O'erwhelm'd by cares, that no repose allow.

Ye've run your race of honor, and full soon

The darkness of the grave will close the scene;

And after death your Judge will weigh your ways.

My heart desires for you the blessed boon,

That, ransom'd by the blood outpour'd for sin,

Ye run th' immortal race of heav'nly praise!