Two hundred years the fort has stood 

Gathered the moss on stone and wood 

Its vigils kept from sun to sun, 

At even fired the signal gun.

Two hundred years! And yet the same 

Of which we read in storied fame; 

Proudly it stands, as if of yore 

It felt the weight of years no more.

Two hundred years! And overhead 

The same broad roof of blue is spread; 

But mortal man has run his race, 

And others rise and fill his place.

Two hundred years! Still drifting on 

'Neath winter's wind and summer's sun; 

The years they come and go away, 

Silently bringing eternity's day.