The Procession

Poem By Henry Livingston

The legislators pass along
A solemn, self-important throng!
Just raised from the common mass,
They feel themselves another class.
--But let them in the sunshine play
For every dog must have his day.

There moves the law's close-wedged band
The scourge and terror of the land!
Pandora's box replete with ills
Not half so baleful as their quills.

The sons of Galen, ghastly crew!
Next pass in horrible review:
Arm'd with each instrument of death
To sap the citadel of Health.
Ten thousand times ten thousand fall
And physic's monster gulps down all.

Bellona's sons, a num'rous train,
now darken all the dusky plain!
--War, their amusement, Death their trade
And the one sin, to be afraid.
They're but another dire disease
The soul from prison to release:
And man forlorn, as well may be
A prey to steel as malady:
Explore he must the mortal road,
The only diff'rence is the mode.

The men in black bring up the rear,
More warm to preach than folks to hear:
Each points to his own fav'rite road
As leading to the blest abode;
Proclaiming loud that all are wrong
Who don't around his banners throng,
Till, all confounded, FAITH retires
And frighten'd CHARITY expires.

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Other poems of HENRY LIVINGSTON

Apostrophe

Of RISPAH. (who had been the concubine of King SAUL) when DAVID hanged her children, because their father had done amiss.


From morn to eve from eve to rosy morn,

A Valentine

WELLCOME, wellcome, happy day,
Wherein love-sick maidens may
Unrestrained tell their swains
All their fondness, all their pains.

On My Sister Joanna's Entrance Into Her 33rd Year

On this thy natal day permit a friend -
A brother - with thy joys his own to blend:
In all gladness he would wish to share
As willing in thy griefs a part to bear.

Brother Beekman

Letter to my Brother Beekman, who then lived with Mr. Schenk
at New Lebanon - 1786

Catharine Livingston

Her little bark on Life's wide Ocean tossed,
In the unequal struggle soon was lost,
Severe its conflict! Much alas it bore,
Then sunk beneath the storm and rose no more.

The Crane & The Fox, A Fable

In long gone years a fox and crane
Were bound in friendship's golden chain;
Whene'er they met, the fox would bow
And madame Crane would curtsie low-