HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS. Thou art the arena of the wise, The noiseless battle-ground of fame, 25 HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS. AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER. BY H. W. LONGFELLOW. [The Standard of Count Pulaski, the noble Pole who fell in the attack upon Savannah, during the American revolution, was of crimson silk, embroidered by the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem in Pennsylvania.] WHEN the dying flame of day That proud banner which, with prayer, Had been consecrated there. And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while Sung low in the dim mysterious aisle. Take thy banner!-may it wave 26 26 HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS. When the spear in conflict shakes, Take thy banner!-and beneath Take thy banner!--but when night Spare him-he our love hath shared- Take thy banner !--and if e'er Thou should'st press the soldier's bier, Then this crimson flag shall be Martial cloak and shroud for thee! And the warrior took that banner proud, And it was his martial cloak and shroud! TO A CITY PIGEON 27 TO A CITY PIGEON. BY N. P. WILLIS. Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove! To catch the glance of thy gentle eye. Why dost thou sit on the heated eaves, And forsake the wood with its freshened leaves? Why dost thou haunt the sultry street, When the paths of the forest are cool and sweet? And canst thou bear This noise of people-this breezeless air? Thou alone of the feathered race, Dost look unscared on the human face; Doth love with man in his haunts to be; Has become a name for trust and love. A holy gift is thine, sweet bird! Thou'rt named with childhood's earliest word, Are its brighest image of moving things. |