Samuel H. M. Byers.
Through the heart of Georgia the army moved, leaving behind a path of ruin forty miles in width. Some of this destruction was no doubt necessary, but much of it seems to have been wanton and without reason.
THE SONG OF SHERMAN'S ARMY
A pillar of fire by night,
A pillar of smoke by day,
Some hours of march—then a halt to fight,
And so we hold our way;
Some hours of march—then a halt to fight,
As on we hold our way.
Over mountain and plain and stream,
To some bright Atlantic bay,
With our arms aflash in the morning beam,
We hold our festal way;
With our arms aflash in the morning beam,
We hold our checkless way!
There is terror wherever we come,
There is terror and wild dismay
When they see the Old Flag and hear the drum
Announce us on our way;
When they see the Old Flag and hear the drum
Beating time to our onward way.
Never unlimber a gun
For those villainous lines in gray;
Draw sabres! and at 'em upon the run!
'Tis thus we clear our way;
Draw sabres, and soon you will see them run,
As we hold our conquering way.
The loyal, who long have been dumb,
Are loud in their cheers to-day;
And the old men out on their crutches come,
To see us hold our way;
And the old men out on their crutches come,
To bless us on our way.
Around us in rear and flanks,
Their futile squadrons play,
With a sixty-mile front of steady ranks,
We hold our checkless way;
With a sixty-mile front of serried ranks,
Our banner clears the way.