Lines in Pleasant Places Rhythmics of many moods and quantities. Wise and otherwise |
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THE SIXTH AT BALTIMORE. |
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 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
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THE SIXTH AT BALTIMORE.
Our country called on her sons for aid,
And we shouldered the gun and drew the blade,
Leaving the anvil, the plough, and saw,
To fight for the Union and for law,
—To fight for the flag our fathers bore—
And our pathway led through Baltimore.
And we shouldered the gun and drew the blade,
Leaving the anvil, the plough, and saw,
To fight for the Union and for law,
—To fight for the flag our fathers bore—
And our pathway led through Baltimore.
There was no moment for doubts or fears,
There was no time for sighs nor tears;
We said “good by,” with hurried breath,
Then marched to the field of life or death,
And fealty to our land we swore
Ere we marched to its aid through Baltimore.
There was no time for sighs nor tears;
We said “good by,” with hurried breath,
Then marched to the field of life or death,
And fealty to our land we swore
Ere we marched to its aid through Baltimore.
And godly hands in blessing were spread,
And smiles from Beauty were on us shed,
And the starry flag, that we bore in pride,
Was cheered and lauded on every side,
With devotion never known before,
As we took up our march for Baltimore.
And smiles from Beauty were on us shed,
And the starry flag, that we bore in pride,
Was cheered and lauded on every side,
With devotion never known before,
As we took up our march for Baltimore.
'Twas April nineteenth day, and the sun
That had seen the carnage at Lexington,
Shone on us as we took our way
Through lanes of foeman in hate's array,
And a scowling look each stern face wore
That we saw as we marched through Baltimore.
That had seen the carnage at Lexington,
Shone on us as we took our way
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And a scowling look each stern face wore
That we saw as we marched through Baltimore.
Then hateful glances took sterner form,
And rained upon us a fearful storm;
Fierce, terrible missiles around us fell,
'Mid oaths that might shame the sons of hell;
But we quailed not 'mid the angry roar
That swept through the streets of Baltimore.
And rained upon us a fearful storm;
Fierce, terrible missiles around us fell,
'Mid oaths that might shame the sons of hell;
But we quailed not 'mid the angry roar
That swept through the streets of Baltimore.
Not a shout or cry in our ranks was heard,
But our rifles spoke the voiceless word,
And our leaden sentences went deep
To put seditious hearts to sleep;
Yet sadly, though sternly, we deplore
Our own brave, fallen at Baltimore.
But our rifles spoke the voiceless word,
And our leaden sentences went deep
To put seditious hearts to sleep;
Yet sadly, though sternly, we deplore
Our own brave, fallen at Baltimore.
But the guerdon of glory's for those who fall;
For the nation's flag is their funeral pall,
And the nation's tears the turf bedew
That covers their hearts so bold and true;
Deathless are they who life gave o'er
On the bloody pavements of Baltimore.
For the nation's flag is their funeral pall,
And the nation's tears the turf bedew
That covers their hearts so bold and true;
Deathless are they who life gave o'er
On the bloody pavements of Baltimore.
The dead return, the arms to nerve
And strengthen hearts that else might swerve;
They speak again, from the silent sod,
In a voice that stirs like the voice of God,
And heroes vow, from their hearts' deep core,
To follow the Sixth through Baltimore.
And strengthen hearts that else might swerve;
They speak again, from the silent sod,
In a voice that stirs like the voice of God,
And heroes vow, from their hearts' deep core,
To follow the Sixth through Baltimore.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |