Year: 1864

This stirring poem was written by the lament.
ed Edward Pollock, In 1858 How applicable are
these lines at the present time j
There's a sound on the wind, there's shril chill


ing cry


Going past on the blast, through the comfortless


sky.


In the night is a waing. that keenly hath Glove
Thro' my heart, like the pain of an unhappy love-
And the Nation, in slumbers she will not resign,
IL veSed and disturbed By n sound and O sign;
And sobs In her sleep, az the warnings go past,
There Is danger and discord- and death on the


blast"


And whence comes the wind and what causes the


painf
And why, in the fulness and depth Of her rest,
should The heart of our Mother in dreams be dis.


trest7


Potomac's blue waters are clear as the skies,
And the chiefs that sit by them are valiant and


wise;


But low, Laughing aend to their counsels has


stole,
And darkens with tempest the calm of each soul
A poison unwonted corrodes In their veins,
Wild frenzy Is racking their hearts and their
brains,
And the demon still Kisses In whispers of fcar.
"DIsUSIoSI DIsUSIoN !" in each madden'd ear:
And this is the reason that pain and dismay
Glide like ghosts thro' the night, and make pallid


the day;


And from thence are the signs and the sounds that


have made
For her children, the heart of Our Mother afraid
Il it SO can II be? are the prophets who say
That night shall return on the dawn Of our dayl
shall the despots whose hootngs ring sharp in our


ears,


Exult in our rdownflll-rejoice in our tears
Was it all but dream, the bright vision that
To the camps of our fathers, through battle and
hamef


Did she whisper in vain, in each year as she


pass'd,


There's temple found here for Jehovah at lastI
On this fresh land of God ye shall worship and


dwell,


And the sound Of your joy shall be tyranny's
knell
Pass on through the fire-by your trials made
strong


Leave not on your borders one footprint Of
wrong
Be es one and cling close, like the drops in the
Strike firm, and fear not-a free home or the


gravel"
O. woe to the land where these words are forgot!
Alas for the nation where union is not
Mourn mourn and lament for the ill.flted shore
The dust of whose martyrs is holy no more!
Ye millions who toll in the South or the North
Ye with arms strong Us iron, aud hearts OF true
worth,


Wipe the sweat from your brows, look aloft and
behold,


On the sweeping west wind there's banner un.
rolled, .. ..
Not IN inch of that flag but was purchased by
strife,
Not a thread in its woof but was won by life:
'Tis your hope-your last hope! while it floats


there shall he
A land undivided, n race that is free
VIII you-larc you stand idle while madmen draw
near
And rcnd the bright banner that cost you so dear
Speak aloud-they shall listen-tor, oh, they know
well


Their life is your favor, your anger their kncll.
One shout for the Union one cheer for the band
Who rcur'd the star'd flag in the night Of our
land


And we'll see who shall whisper "diSuuion" or
strife "


When the deart of the nation rekindles with life
Gold shield thee, Green Erin! for manhood no
more
Has homestead, or harvest, or hope OH thy shore
And France. like Titan, awaken'd by pain
| Struck only one blow and now slumbers again.
Italia lies bleeding aud Kossuth has fed
While the band that hung round him are cxied or


dead


Here lonely we only the flag have unfurld.
| In whose shadow may rest the oppressed OF the
world;
| And woe to the foe, who by dlscord or war,
Would qucnck in our standard the beams of a
| star!


Though his heart be of iron, his hand made so
bold
As to break the strong hand that was woven Of
old


Let him heed well the sequel; our banner of blue
Has stripes for the foeman, stars for the true
And the sun shall not shine on the men that shall
see


Dismember'd or conquer'd the Flag of the Free.