Sister, hark! the very air heavy on my heart doth bear--
All is gone!--
E'en the birds that chirped erewhile for the frowning sun to smile,
Hush at that drum near the stile.
Sister, pray!--it is the foe! On thy knees--aye, very low--
All is gone,
And the proud South on her knees to a mongrel race like these--
But the dead sleep 'neath the trees.
See--they come--their banners flare gayly in our gloomy air--
All is gone--
Flashed our Southern Cross all night--naught but a meteoric light
In a moment lost to sight?
Aye, so gay--the brave array--marching from no battle fray--
All is gone,--
Yet who vaunteth, of your host, maketh he but little boast
If he think on battles most.
On they wind, behind the wood. Dost remember once we stood--
All is gone--
All but memory, of those days--but we've stood here while the haze
Of the battle met the blaze.
Of the sun adown yon hill. Charge on charge--I hear them still.--
All is gone!--
Yet I hear the echoing crash--see the sabres gleam and flash--
See one gallant headlong dash.
One, amid the battle-wreck, restive plunged his charger black--
All is gone--
Whirrs the partridge there--didst see where he rode so
recklessly?
Once he turned and waved to me.
"Ah," thou saidst, "the smoke is dark, scarce can I our banner mark"--
All is gone--
All but memory; yet I see, darksome howsoever it be,
How to death--to death--rode he.
Not a star he proudly bore, but a sword all dripping gore--
All is gone--
Dashes on our little band like yon billow on the strand--
Like yon strand unmoved they stand.
For their serried ranks are strong: thousands upon thousands throng--
All is gone,
And the handful, true and brave, spent, like yonder dying wave,
Fall back slowly from that grave.