Perish party—perish clan,
Strike together while you can,
Like the strong arm of one man.
Like the angel’s voice sublime,
Heard above a world of crime,
Crying for the end of Time.
With one heart and with one mouth
Let the North speak to the South;
Speak the word befitting both.
In contrast with this, I will cite a poem, which might be called, not inappropriately,
THE VOICE OF THE SOUTH.
Rebels! ’tis a holy name!
The name our fathers bore,
When battling in the cause of Right
Against the tyrant in his might,
In the dark days of yore.
Rebels! ’tis our family name!
Our father, Washington,
Was the arch rebel in the fight,
And gave the name to us—aright
Of father unto son.
Rebels! ’tis our given name!
Our mother Liberty
Received the title with her fame,
In days of grief, of fear and shame,
When at her breast were we.
Rebels! ’tis our sealed name!
A baptism of blood!
The war—ay, and the din of strife—
The fearful contest, life for life—
The mingled crimson flood!
Rebels! ’tis a patriot’s name!
In struggles it was given;
We bore it then when tyrants raved,
And through their curses ’twas engraved
On the doomsday book of heaven.