O Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun,
There are battles with fate that can never be won!
The star-flowering banner must never be furled,
For its blossoms of light are the hope of the world!
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.
A.D., 1861.
By EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.
[Peculiar interest attaches to this piece as the first poem written after the actual outbreak of the Civil War and inspired by its events. The poem appeared in the evening edition of the New York World, on April 16, 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.