Sister, hark! Atween the trees cometh naught but summer breeze?
All is gone--
Summer breezes come and go. Hope doth never wander so--
No, nor evermore doth Woe.

Sister, look! Adown the lane treadeth only April rain?
All is gone--
Through the tangled hedge-rows green glimmer thus the sunbeam's sheen,
Dropping from cloud-rifts between?

Sister, hark! the very air heavy on my heart doth bear--
All is gone!--
E'en the birds that chirped erewhile for the frowning sun to smile,
Hush at that drum near the stile.

Sister, pray!--it is the foe! On thy knees--aye, very low--
All is gone,
And the proud South on her knees to a mongrel race like these--
But the dead sleep 'neath the trees.

See--they come--their banners flare gayly in our gloomy air--
All is gone--
Flashed our Southern Cross all night--naught but a meteoric light
In a moment lost to sight?

Aye, so gay--the brave array--marching from no battle fray--
All is gone,--
Yet who vaunteth, of your host, maketh he but little boast
If he think on battles most.

On they wind, behind the wood. Dost remember once we stood--
All is gone--
All but memory, of those days--but we've stood here while the haze
Of the battle met the blaze.

Of the sun adown yon hill. Charge on charge--I hear them still.--
All is gone!--
Yet I hear the echoing crash--see the sabres gleam and flash--
See one gallant headlong dash.

One, amid the battle-wreck, restive plunged his charger black--
All is gone--
Whirrs the partridge there--didst see where he rode so
recklessly?
Once he turned and waved to me.

"Ah," thou saidst, "the smoke is dark, scarce can I our banner mark"--
All is gone--
All but memory; yet I see, darksome howsoever it be,
How to death--to death--rode he.

Not a star he proudly bore, but a sword all dripping gore--
All is gone--
Dashes on our little band like yon billow on the strand--
Like yon strand unmoved they stand.

For their serried ranks are strong: thousands upon thousands throng--
All is gone,
And the handful, true and brave, spent, like yonder dying wave,
Fall back slowly from that grave.

Low our banner drooped--and fell. Back he spurs, mid shot and shell--
All was gone,
But he waves it high--and then, on--we sweep them from the glen--
But he ne'er rode back again.

Ah, I smiled to see him go. How my cheek with pride did glow!
All is gone--
All, of pride or hope, for me--but that evening, hopefully
Stood I at the gate with thee,

Sister, when at twilight gray marched our soldiers back this way--
All is gone--
In the woods rang many a cheer--how we smiled! I did not fear
Till--at last was borne a bier.

Sweetest sister, dost thou weep? Hush! he only fell asleep--
All is gone--
And'twere better he had died--free, whatever us betide--
Our galling chains untried.

We were leaning on the gate. Dost remember, it grew late--
All is gone--
Yet I see the stars so pale--see the shadows down the vale--
Hear the whip-poor-will's far wail,

As if all were in a dream. Through yon pines the moon did gleam--
All is gone--
On that banner-pall of death--on that red sword without sheath--
And--I knew who lay beneath.
Did I speak? I thought I said, let me look upon your dead--
All is gone---
Was I cold? I did not weep. Tears are spray from founts not deep--
My heart lies in frozen sleep.

Sister, pray for me. Thine eyes gleam like God's own midnight skies--
All is gone--
Tuneless are my spirit's chords. I but look up, like the birds,
And trust Christ to say the words.

Bowing Her Head.

Her head is bowed downwards; so pensive her air,
As she looks on the ground with her pale, solemn face,
It were hard to decide whether faith or despair,
Whether anguish or trust, in her heart holds a place.

Her hair was all gold in the sun's joyous light,
Her brow was as smooth as the soft, placid sea:
But the furrows of care came with shadows of night,
And the gold silvered pale when the light left the lea.

Her lips slightly parted, deep thought in her eye,
While sorrow cuts seams in her forehead so fair;
Her bosom heaves gently, she stifles a sigh,
And just moistens her lid with the dews of a tear.

Why droops she thus earthward--why bends she? Oh, see!
There are gyves on her limbs! see her manacled hand!
She is loaded with chains; but her spirit is free--
Free to love and to mourn for her desolate land.

Her jailer, though cunning, lacks wit to devise
How to fetter her thoughts, as her limbs he has done;
The eagle that's snatched from his flight to the skies,
From the bars of his cage may still gaze at the sun.

No sound does she utter; all voiceless her pains;
The wounds of her spirit with pride she conceals;
She is dumb to her shearers; the clank of her chains
And the throbs of her heart only tell what she feels.

She looks sadly around her; now sombre the scene!
How thick the deep shadows that darken her view!
The black embers of homes where the earth was so green,
And the smokes of her wreck where the heavens shone blue.

Her daughters bereaved of all succor but God,
Her bravest sons perished--the light of her eyes;
But oppression's sharp heel does not cut 'neath the sod,
And she knows that the chains cannot bind in the skies.

She thinks of the vessel she aided to build,
Of all argosies richest that floated the seas;
Compacted so strong, framed by architects skilled,
Or to dare the wild storm, or to sail to the breeze.

The balmiest winds blowing soft where she steers,
The favor of heaven illuming her path--
She might sail as she pleased to the mild summer airs,
And avoid the dread regions of tempest and wrath.

But the crew quarrelled soon o'er the cargo she bore;
'Twas adjusted unfairly, the cavillers said;
And the anger of men marred the peace that of yore
Spread a broad path of glory and sunshine ahead.

There were seams in her planks--there were spots on her flag--
So the fanatics said, as they seized on her helm;
And from soft summer seas, turned her prow where the crag
And the wild breakers rose the good ship to overwhelm.

Then the South, though true love to the vessel she bore,
Since she first laid its keel in the days that were gone--
Saw it plunge madly on to the wild billows' roar,
And rush to destruction and ruin forlorn.

So she passed from the decks, in the faith of her heart
That justice and God her protectors would be;
Not dashed like a frail, fragile spar, without chart,
In the fury and foam of the wild raging sea.

The life-boat that hung by the stout vessel's side
She seized, and embarked on the wide, trackless main,
In the faith that she'd reach, making virtue her guide,
The haven the mother-ship failed to attain

But the crew rose in wrath, and they swore by their might
They would sink the brave boat that did buffet the sea,
For daring to seek, by her honor and right,
A new port from the storms, a new home for the free.

So they crushed the brave boat; all forbearance they lost;
They littered with ruins the ocean so wild--
Till the hulk of the parent ship, beaten and tossed,
Drifted prone on the flood by the wreck of the child.

And the bold rower, loaded with fetters and chains,
In the gloom of her heart sings the proud vessel's dirge;
Half forgets, in its wreck, all the pangs of her pains,
As she sees its stout parts floating loose in the surge.

Savannah Broadside.

The Confederate Flag