Summary

War Poetry of the South

We're the men, though we wear no lace--
We're the men, who the foe hath torn,
And scattered their ranks in dire disgrace;
We're the men who have triumphed before--
We're the men who will triumph again;
For the dust, and the smoke, and the cannon's roar,
And the clashing bayonets--'we're the men.'
"Ye who sneer at the battle-scars,
Of garments faded, and soiled and bare,
Yet who have for the 'stars and bars'
Praise, and homage, and dainty fare;
Mock the wearers and pass them on,
Refuse them kindly word--and then
Know, if your freedom is ever won
By human agents--these are the men!"
Source: Gutenberg

War Poetry of the South

But 'tis proud and faithful too:
Shall she be her land's defender?
Lover! Soldier! up and do!
Seize thy father's ancient falchion,
Which once flashed as freedom's star!
Till sweet peace--the bow and halcyon,
Stilled the stormy strife of war.
Listen! now thy country's calling
On her sons to meet her foe!
Sweet is love in moonlight bowers!
Sweet the altar and the flame!
Sweet the spring-time with her flowers!
Sweeter far the patriot's name!
Should the God who smiles above thee,
Doom thee to a soldier's grave,
Hearts will break, but fame will love thee,
Canonized among the brave!
Source: Gutenberg

War Poetry of the South

And then the Wrong went down, hurrah! and triumph crowned the Right!
The day has come again, when men who love the beauteous South,
To speak, if needs be, for the Right, though by the cannon's mouth;
For foes accursed of God and man, with lying speech and song,
Would bind, imprison, hang the Right, and deify the Wrong.
But canting knave of pen and sword, nor sanctimonious fool,
Shall never win this Southern land, to cripple, bind, and rule;
We'll muster on each bloody plain, thick as the stars of night,
And, through the help of God, the Wrong shall perish by the Right.
Source: Gutenberg

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