Poem of the Day.


verse/vol10war:
Awake--Arise!

By G. W. Archer, M. D.



Sons of the South--awake--arise!
  A million foes sweep down amain,
Fierce hatred gleaming in their eyes,
  And fire and rapine in their train,
  Like savage Hun and merciless Dane!
 "We come as brothers!" Trust them not!
  By all that's dear in heaven and earth,
  By every tie that hath its birth
  Within your homes--around your hearth;
Believe me, 'tis a tyrant's plot,
  Worse for the fair and sleek disguise--
A traitor in a patriot's cloak!
   "Your country's good
    Demands your blood!"
Was it a fiend from hell that spoke?

They point us to the Stripes and Stars;
  (Our banner erst--the despot's now!)
But let not thoughts of by-gone wars,
  When beat we back the common foe,
  And felled them fast and shamed them so,
Divide us at this fearful hour;
  But think of dungeons and of chains--
  Think of your violated fanes--
  Of your loved homestead's gory stains--
Eternal thraldom for your dower!
No love of country fires their breasts--
The fell fanatics fain would free
  A grovelling race,
  And in their place
Would fetter us with fiendish glee!

Sons of the South--awake--awake!
  And strike for rights full dear as those
  For which our struggling sires did shake
  Earth's proudest throne--while freedom rose,
  Baptized in blood of braggart foes.
Awake--that hour hath come again!
  Strike! as ye look to Heaven's high throne--
  Strike! for the Christian patriot's crown--
  Strike! in the name of Washington,
Who taught you once to rend the chain,
  Smiles now from heaven upon our cause,
So like his own. His spirit moves
    Through every fight,
    And lends its might
To every heart that freedom loves.

Ye beauteous of the sunny land!
  Unmatched your charms in all the earth,
'Neath freedom's banner take your stand;
  And, though ye strike not, prove your worth,
  As wont in days of joy and mirth:
Lavish your praises on the brave--
  Pray when the battle fiercely lowers--
  Smile when the victory is ours--
  Frown on the wretch who basely cowers--
Mourn o'er each fallen hero's grave!
  Lend thus your favors whilst we smite!
Full soon we'll crush this vandal host!--
    With woman's charms
    To nerve their arms,
Oh! when have men their freedom lost!





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Mystery destination!


(Sunday, 05 July, 2020.)