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Page 158
The battle-flag of Dixie
On crimson field shall flame,
With azure cross, and silver stars,
To light her sons to fame!
When peace with olive-branch returns,
That flag's white folds shall glow,
Still bright on every height,
Where the storm has ceased to blow,
Where battle-tempests rage no more,
Nor bloody torrents flow.
The battle-flag of Dixie
Shall long triumphant wave,
Where'er the storms of battle roar,
And victory crowns the brave!
The Cavaliers of Dixie!
In woman's songs shall glow
The fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow,
When the battle-tempests rage no more,
Nor the bloody torrents flow.
Song of Spring, (1864.)
By John A. Wagener, of South Carolina.
Spring has come! Spring has come!
The brightening earth, the sparkling dew,
The bursting buds, the sky of blue,
The mocker's carol, in tree and hedge,
Proclaim anew Jehovah's pledge--
"So long as man shall earth retain,
The seasons gone shall come again."
Spring has come! Springs has come!
We have her here, in the balmy air,
In the blossoms that bourgeon without a care;
The violet bounds from her lowly bed,
And the jasmin flaunts with a lofty head;
All nature, in her baptismal dress,
Is abroad--to win, to soothe, and bless.
Spring has come! Spring has come!
Yes, and eternal as the Lord,
Who spells her being at a word;
All blest but man, whose passions proud
Wrap Nature in her bloody shroud--
His heart is winter to the core,
His spring, alas! shall come no more!
"What the Village Bell Said."
By John C. M'Lemore, of South Carolina.[1]
Full many a year in the village church,
Above the world have I made my home;
And happier there, than if I had hung
High up in the air in a golden dome;
For I have tolled
When the slow hearse rolled
Its burden sad to my door;
And each echo that woke,
With the solemn stroke,
Was a sigh from the heart of the poor.
I know the great bell of the city spire
Is a far prouder one than such as I;
And its deafening stroke, compared with mine,
Is thunder compared with a sigh:
But the shattering note
Of his brazen throat,
As it swells on the Sabbath air,
Far oftener rings
For other things
Than a call to the house of prayer.
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