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When Marshall Raises His Baton

When Marshall raises his baton,
A night of pleasure, then is on;
The music flutters soft and low,
Like cadences from long ago,
And floats about until it seems
Like some weird rhythm of our dreams;
Then with a shriek it fills the park,
And bulges out into the dark.
The old war veteran – unafraid
Hears once again the cannonade,
The double quick, - and on and on
When Marshall raises his baton.

When Marshall raises his baton,
The worries of the day are gone;
The man who was a-feeling blue
Goes whistling up the avenue,
And she, who thought the day so long
Is crooning over some old song.
The man who thought that he was sick
Beats time with his old walking stick.
And some church people – good, discreet,
Have strange emotions in their feet,
An prance around upon the lawn
When Marshall raises his baton.

When Marshall raises his baton,
The tired folks forget to yawn.
The cares of day fall off and then,
They’re happy boys and girls again.
The man who came oppressed with cares
Has quite forgot next day’s affairs;
For music and the quiet skies
And stars and calm all harmonize,
To make these passive hours of life,
Our bulwarks in the morrow’s strife,
And lend us hope to meet the dawn
When Marshall raises his baton.

Topeka. G. H. H.

The above poem was published in an unidentified newspaper, dated September 18, 1907, found in a newspaper clippings book at the Kansas State Historical Society. The newspaper is not identified, and the author is only identified as G. H. H.

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