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THE ince the fisher

went away


"HE wife in the cot is lonely
Since the fisher went

And the sun-burnt child it hath not smil'd

This many and many a day.
And the schools of mack’rel come unscared

To the shoals of the inner bay.

For the fisherman said one spring-time :

“Dear wife, I have set my sail
These twenty years to the northern meres,

The icebergs, the mist and gale,
And my country hath paid the shot, good wife,

However I chanced to fail.

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'Yes, paid for my sailor's knowledge,

And the skill of my ready hand ;
And the blue on my arm, as a sacred charm,

Is the flag that guards the land.
The time has come to pay that debt,
Tho' my life it should demand.

So bravely the loyal fisher

Sailed for the southern sea, Never a hook nor a bait he took

For the deadly fishery ; But the staunchest man at the straining rope

In the northerner was he.

On the bloody deck of the Hartford

At last the fisher lay,
The azure charm pricked on his arm

Was striped with red that day ;
And his debt of twenty years was paid

With a life in Mobile Bay.



(General Sherman, in a recent conversation with the editor of this collection, declared that it was this poem with its phrase, “march to the sea,” that threw a glamour of romance over the campaign which it celebrates. Said General Sherman : "The thing was nothing more or less than a change of base, an operation perfectly familiar to every military man, but a poet got hold of it, gave it the captivating label, “The March to the Sea, and the unmilitary public made a romance out of it.” It may be remarked that the General's modesty overlooks the important fact that the romance lay really in his own deed of derring-do; the poet merely recorded it, or at most interpreted it to the popular intelligence. The glory of the great campaign was Sherman's and his army's; the joy of celebrating it was the poet's; the admiring memory of it is the people's.-EDITOR.]


UR camp-fires sbone bright on the mountain


As we stood by our guns in the morning,

And eagerly watched for the foe; When a rider came out of the darkness

That hung over mountain and tree, And shouted : “Boys, up and be ready!

For Sherman will march to the sea.”

Then cheer upon cheer for bold Sherman

Went up from each valley and glen, And the bugles re-echoed the music

That came from the lips of the men ; For we knew that the stars in our banner

More bright in their splendor would be, And that blessings from Northland would greet us

When Sherman marched down to the sea.

Then forward, boys ! forward to battle !

We marched on our wearisome way, We stormed the wild hills of Resaca, God bless those who fell on that day !

Sberman's Marcb to tbe Sea


Then Kenesaw, dark in its glory,

Frowned down on the flag of the free,
But the East and the West bore our standard

And Sherman marched on to the sea.

Still onward we pressed till our banners

Swept out from Atlanta's grim walls, And the blood of the patriot dampened

The soil where the traitor flag falls.
We paused not to weep for the fallen,

Who slept by each river and tree.
Yet we twined them a wreath of the laurel

As Sherman marched down to the sea.

Oh, proud was our army that morning,

That stood where the pine darkly towers, When Sherman said : “ Boys, you are weary,

But to-day fair Savannah is ours !”
Then sang we the song of our chieftain,

That echoeá o'er river and lea,
And the stars in our banner shone brighter

When Sherman marched down to the sea.

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