By Catherine M. Warfield. (3) |
Glorious Virginia! Freedom sprang Light to her feet at thy trumpet's clang: At the first sound of that clarion blast, Foes like the chaff from the whirlwind passed-- Passed to their doom: from that hour no more Triumphs their cause by sea or shore. Glorious Virginia! noble the blood That hath bathed thy fields in a crimson flood; On many a wide-spread and sunny plain, Like leaves of autumn thy dead have lain: The Southron heart is their funeral urn! The Southern slogan their requiem stern! Glorious Virginia! to thee, to thee We lean, as the shoots to the parent tree; Bending in awe at thy glance of might;-- First in the council, first in the fight! While our flag is fanned by the breath of fame, Glorious Virginia! we'll bless thy name. The War-Christian's Thanksgiving.
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