 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
IX.
But suddenly over the hills there cameA cry that rent her with grief and shame—
A cry from the Nation in sore distress,
Stricken down in the pride of its mightiness!
With passionate ardor up she sprang,
And her voice like the peal of a trumpet rang—
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Strong with the strength of the mountain pine!
To the front of the battle, away! away!
The Nation is bleeding in deadly fray,
The Nation, it may be, is dying to-day!
On, then, to the rescue! away! away!”
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |