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The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of the continent to the other, from this time forward forevermore.

There were his young barbarians all at play There was their Dacian mother--he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday.

And that was the way The deuce was to pay As it always is, at the close of the day That gave us-- Hurray! Hurray! Hurray! That which, please God, we will keep for aye Our National Independence!

The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart, When the full river of feeling overflows;-- The happy days unclouded to their close; The sudden joys that our of darkness start As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!

Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in holiday humor and like enough to consent.

If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.

Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.

You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, Come hither from the furrow and be merry. Make holiday: your rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing.

Time for work,--yet take Much holiday for art's and friendship's sake.