Higginson, T. W.: Cheerful Yesterday.. Lowell, J. R.: Wendell Phillips. Markham, E.: Lincoln, the Great Commoner. POETRY Albert Pike, Theodore O'Hara, Henry Timrod, Paul Hamilton Hayne, and Sidney Lanier are, with the exception of Poe, the best known of our Southern poets. I. Albert Pike (1809-1891), a soldier of the Confederate army, is chiefly remembered for his song Dixie and for his poem To the Mocking Bird. DIXIE Southrons, hear your country call you! Let all hearts be now united ! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Hurrah! hurrah! For Dixie's land we'll take our stand, To arms! to arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! To arms! to arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! Hear the Northern thunders mutter! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Fear no danger! shun no labor! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! How the South's great heart rejoices To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! For faith betrayed and pledges broken, Wrongs inflicted, insults spoken. To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. Strong as lions, swift as eagles, Back to their kennels hunt these beagles! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Swear upon your country's altar To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Till the spoilers are defeated, Till the Lord's work is completed. To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. Halt not till our federation Secures among earth's Powers its station! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie ! Then at peace, and crowned with glory, Hear your children tell the story! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. If the loved ones weep in sadness, Victory soon shall bring them gladness; 2. To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Theodore O'Hara (1820-1867) was a Southerner who made his reputation as a writer through his poem The Bivouac of the Dead, which commemorates the Kentuckians who fell at the battle of Buena Vista. THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD The muffled drum's sad roll has beat No more on life's parade shall meet And Glory guards, with solemn round, No rumor of the foe's advance No troubled thought at midnight haunts No vision of the morrow's strife The warrior's dream alarms; No braying horn nor screaming fife Their shivered swords are red with rust, And plenteous funeral tears have washed And the proud forms, by battle gashed, The neighing troop, the flashing blade, The charge, the dreadful cannonade, Like the fierce northern hurricane Long has the doubtful conflict raged Not long, our stout old chieftain knew, 'Twas in that hour his stern command His first-born laurels grew, And well he deemed the sons would pour Their lives for glory too. Full many a norther's breath has swept O'er Angostura's plain And long the pitying sky has wept Above its mouldering slain. The raven's scream, or eagle's flight, That frowned o'er that dread fray. Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground, Where stranger steps and tongues resound Your own proud land's heroic soil She claims from War his richest spoil- Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest, And kindred eyes and hearts watch by Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead, Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone When many a vanished age hath flown, The story how ye fell; Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight, Nor Time's remorseless doom, Shall dim one ray of glory's light That gilds your glorious tomb. |