Читать книгу War Poetry of the South - Various - Страница 5
George H. Miles, of Baltimore.
ОглавлениеGod save the South!
God save the South!
Her altars and firesides--
God save the South!
Now that the war is nigh--
Now that we arm to die--
Chanting--our battle-cry,
Freedom or Death!
God be our shield!
At home or a-field,
Stretch Thine arm over us,
Strengthen and save!
What though they're five to one,
Forward each sire and son,
Strike till the war is done,
Strike to the grave.
God make the right
Stronger than might!
Millions would trample us
Down in their pride.
Lay, thou, their legions low;
Roll back the ruthless foe;
Let the proud spoiler know
God's on our side!
Hark! honor's call,
Summoning all--
Summoning all of us
Up to the strife.
Sons of the South, awake!
Strike till the brand shall break!
Strike for dear honor's sake,
Freedom and Life!
Rebels before
Were our fathers of yore;
Rebel, the glorious name
Washington bore,
Why, then, be ours the same
Title he snatched from shame;
Making it first in fame,
Odious no more.
War to the hilt!
Theirs be the guilt,
Who fetter the freeman
To ransom the slave.
Up, then, and undismayed,
Sheathe not the battle-blade?
Till the last foe is laid
Low in the grave.
God save the South!
God save the South!
Dry the dim eyes that now
Follow our path.
Still let the light feet rove
Safe through the orange grove;
Still keep the land we love
Safe from all wrath.
God save the South!
God save the South!
Her altars and firesides--
God save the South!
For the rude war is nigh,
And we must win or die;
Chanting our battle-cry
Freedom or Death!
