Our flags, almost the same, unfurl,
And nod across the border;
Ohio's waves between them curl--
Our stripe's a little broader;
May yours float out on every breeze,
And, in our wake, traverse all seas--
We greet you--over the river!
We part, as friends of years should part,
With pleasant words and wishes,
And no desire is in our heart
For Lincoln's loaves and fishes;
"Farewell," we wave you from afar,
We like you best--just where you are--
And greet you--over the river!
The Confederacy.
By Jane T. H. Cross.
Published in the Southern Christian Advocated.
Born in a day, full-grown, our Nation stood,
The pearly light of heaven was on her face;
Life's early joy was coursing in her blood;
A thing she was of beauty and of grace.
She stood, a stranger on the great broad earth,
No voice of sympathy was heard to greet
The glory-beaming morning of her birth,
Or hail the coming of the unsoiled feet.
She stood, derided by her passing foes;
Her heart beat calmly 'neath their look of scorn;
Their rage in blackening billows round her rose--
Her brow, meanwhile, as radiant as the morn.
Their poisonous coils about her limbs are cast,
She shakes them off in pure and holy ire,
As quietly as Paul, in ages past,
Shook off the serpent in the crackling fire.
She bends not to her foes, nor to the world,
She bears a heart for glory, or for gloom;
But with her starry cross, her flag unfurled,
She kneels amid the sweet magnolia bloom.