Then Nature must teach us the strength of the chain They may fight till the buzzards are gorged with their Till the harvest grows black as it rots in the soil, caves, And the shark tracks the pirate, the lord of the waves: In vain is the strife! When its fury is past, Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky; Man breaks not the medal when God cuts the die! steel, The blue arch will brighten, the waters will heal! O Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun, Go, then, our rash sister, afar and aloof,- But when your heart aches, and your feet have grown sore, Remember the pathway that leads to our door! DIXIE BY ALBERT PIKE Southrons, hear your country call you! To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie! For Dixie's land we take our stand, To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! To arms! To arms! Fear no danger! Shun no labor! How the South's great heart rejoices Strong as lions, swift as eagles, Let them hence each other plunder! Swear upon your country's altar Till the spoilers are defeated, Till the Lord's work is completed. Halt not till our Federation Secures among earth's powers its station! If the loved ones weep in sadness, Exultant pride soon banish sorrow, Smiles chase tears away to-morrow. To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie! For Dixie's land we take our stand, (Southern.) And live or die for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! FIRST O SONGS FOR A PRELUDE1 BY WALT WHITMAN First O songs for a prelude, Lightly strike on the stretch'd tympanum pride and joy in my city, How she led the rest to arms, how she gave the cue, How at once with lithe limbs unwaiting a moment she sprang, (O superb! O Manhattan, my own, my peerless! O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis! O truer than steel!) How you sprang-how you threw off the costumes of peace with indifferent hand, How your soft opera-music changed, and the drum and fife were heard in their stead, How you led to the war (that shall serve for our prelude, songs of soldiers), How Manhattan drum-taps led. Forty years had I in my city seen soldiers parading, Forty years as a pageant, till unawares the lady of this teeming and turbulent city, Sleepless amid her ships, her houses, her incalculable wealth, With her million children around her, suddenly, At dead of night, at news from the south, Incens'd struck with clinch'd hand the pavement. 'From "Selected Poems." Published by David McKay, Philadelphia. A shock electric, the night sustain'd it, Till with ominous hum our hive at daybreak pour'd out its myriads. From the houses then and the workshops, and through all the doorways, Leapt they tumultuous, and lo! Manhattan arming. To the drum-taps prompt, The young men falling in and arming, The mechanics arming (the trowel, the jack-plane, the blacksmith's hammer, tost aside with precipita tion), The lawyer leaving his office and arming, the judge leaving the court, The driver deserting his wagon in the street, jumping down, throwing the reins abruptly down on the horses' backs, The salesman leaving the store, the boss, book-keeper, porter, all leaving; Squads gather everywhere by common consent and arm, The new recruits, even boys, the old men show them how to wear their accounterments, they buckle the straps carefully, Outdoors arming, indoors arming, the flash of the musket-barrels, The white tents cluster in camps, and arm'd sentries around, the sunrise cannon and again at sunset, Arm'd regiments arrive every day, pass through the city, and embark from the wharves, (How good they look as they tramp down to the river, sweaty, with their guns on their shoulders! |
