[A tribute to Ex-Governor Fairchild.]
God bless the hero of my song!
Six years the chieftain of our State!
We've held him, in our hearts, so long,
And proved him good, and true, and great.
That now, we could not let him go,
Even if he would have it so.
I hear the praises of his name
From east and west, and north and south,
His foes are silenced from sheer shame:
His deeds have silenced Slander's mouth,
And all the little imps of spite
He's crushed beneath the heel of Right.
He dropped an arm one bloody day,
In beating down the walls of wrong,
But no strength went with it away;
His other grew full thrice as strong.
Few men, with their two hands, have done
As noble deeds as he with one.
His soul speaks through his eye of blue,
And all men know him one to trust,
Because his heart is kind and true,
And all his actions prove him just.
I speak for thousands when I cry,
"The people's favorite for aye!"
May God be with him all his days--
With him and all he holds most dear;
And if my little song of praise
Should chance to fall upon his ear,
May he accept the offering,
And know that from my heart I sing.
Shells by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Milwaukee: Hauser & Storey, 1873.
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