The war began, the war went on—this politicians’ conspiracy, this slaveholders’ rebellion, as it was variously called by those who sought its source, now in the disappointed ambition of the Southern leaders, now in the desperate determination of a slaveholding oligarchy to perpetuate their power, and to secure forever their proprietorship in their “human chattels.” On this theory the mass of the Southern people were but puppets in the hands of political wirepullers, or blind followers of hectoring “patricians.” To those who know the Southern people nothing can be more absurd; to those who know their personal independence, to those who know the deep interest which they have always taken in politics, the keen intelligence with which they have always followed the questions of the day.
Basil L. Gildersleeve
February Twenty-Ninth
THE LAND WHERE WE WERE DREAMING
Fair were our nation’s visions, and as grand
As ever floated out of fancy-land;
Children were we in simple faith,
But god-like children, whom nor death,
Nor threat of danger drove from honor’s path—
In the land where we were dreaming!
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A figure came among us as we slept—
At first he knelt, then slowly rose and wept;
Then gathering up a thousand spears,
He swept across the fields of Mars,
Then bowed farewell, and walked behind the stars,
From the land where we were dreaming!
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As wakes the soldier when the alarum calls—
As wakes the mother when her infant falls—
As starts the traveler when around
His sleepy couch the fire-bells sound—
So woke our nation with a single bound—
In the land where we were dreaming!
Daniel Bedinger Lucas