But the East and the West bore our standards,
And Sherman marched on to the sea.
IV.
Still onward we pressed, till our banner
Swept out from Atlanta’s grim walls,
And the blood of the patriot dampened
The soil where the traitor flag falls:
But we paused not to weep for the fallen,
Who slept by each river and tree,
Yet we twined them a wreath of the laurel