. American war ballads and lyrics: a collection of the songs and ballads of the colonial wars, the revolution, the war of 1812-15, the war with Mexico, and the civil war . e gorged with their spoil,—Till the harvest grows black as it rots in the soil,Till the wolves and the catamounts troop from their caves,And the shark tracks the pirate, the lord of the waves : In vain is the strife ! When its fury is past,Their fortunes must flow in one channel at last,As the torrents that rush from the mountains of snowRoll mingled in peace in the valleys below. Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky ; M
. American war ballads and lyrics: a collection of the songs and ballads of the colonial wars, the revolution, the war of 1812-15, the war with Mexico, and the civil war . e gorged with their spoil,—Till the harvest grows black as it rots in the soil,Till the wolves and the catamounts troop from their caves,And the shark tracks the pirate, the lord of the waves : In vain is the strife ! When its fury is past,Their fortunes must flow in one channel at last,As the torrents that rush from the mountains of snowRoll mingled in peace in the valleys below. Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky ; Man breaks not the medal when God cuts the die ! Though darkened with sulphur, though cloven with blue arch will brighten, the waters wall heal! O Caroline, Caroline, child of the are battles with fate that can never be won !The star-flowering banner must never be its blossoms of light are the hope of the world ! :fiSrotber 5onatban6 Xament i6g Go, then, our rash sister, afar and aloof,— Run wild in the sunshine away from our roof; But when your heart aches and your feet have grown sore,Remember the pathway that leads to our door !. THE TWELFTH OF APRIL. , EDMUND CI^ARENCE; ST^DMAN. [Peculiar interest attaches to this piece as the firstpoem written after the actual outbreak of the Civil Warand inspired by its events. The poem appeared in theevening edition of the New York World, on April i6,1861,—Editor.] CAME the morning of that day,When the God to whom we pray,Gave the soul of Henry Clay To the land ;How we loved him—living, dying!But his birthday banners flying,Saw us asking and replying,Hand to hand. For we knew that far away,Round the fort at Charleston bay,Hung the dark impending to fall;170 Zbc ^vvelftb of 2lpril 171 And that Sumters brave defenderHad the summons to surrender :Seventy loyal hearts and tender—That was all.
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