 | [Poems by Fields in] The North Star |  |
Haste! matron, maid, and son,—
Cry to each slumbering one,
“Behold the slain.”
Pass on through every street,
Bid every voice ye meet
Take up the strain!
Cry to each slumbering one,
“Behold the slain.”
Pass on through every street,
Bid every voice ye meet
Take up the strain!
| [Poems by Fields in] The North Star | |