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WAR POEM.

War Poem.

TRIKE for the Anglo-Saxon !

STRIK

Strike for the Newer Day!

Oh, strike for Heart, and strike for

Brain,

And sweep the Beast away.

Not only for our sailors,

The heroes of the Maine,

But strike for all the victims
Of Moloch-minded Spain.

Not only for the Present,

But all the Bloody Past,
Oh, strike for all the martyrs
That have their hour at last.

Old stronghold of the Darkness,
Come, ruin it with light!
It is no fight of small revenge,
'Tis an immortal fight.

Spain is an ancient dragon,

That all too long hath curled Its coils of blood and darkness

About the new-born world.

Think of the Inquisition !

Think of the Netherlands !
Yea, think of all Spain's bloody deeds
In many times and lands.

And let no feeble pity

Your sacred arms restrain. This is God's mighty moment To make an end of Spain.

- Richard La Gallienne.

THE VOLUNTEER

The Volunteer.

THE 'HE band was playing "Dixie " when he marched, marched away;

An' never any likelier lad stept time to it that day; "The finest fellow of 'em all!" I heard the town

folk say.

The band was playin' "Dixie" as he marched, marched away.

How fast my wild arms held him,

[blocks in formation]

my boy, who

The likeliest lad that answered to the captain's call

that day!

"The finest fellow of 'em all!" An' in the red array Of flags that rippled over them they marched my

lad away!

But a mother's fears and prayers and tears were nothing. War must slay,

And the draped, deep drums were muffled as they brought him home that day!

"The finest fellow of 'em all!" I heard the town

folk say,

And his mother bendin' over him,-dead at her feet

that day!

- Frank L. Stanton.

Regiment Song.

HE old flag is a-doin' of her very level best, —

THE

She's a rainbow roun' the country from the rosy east to west;

An' the eagle's in the elements with sunshine on his breast,

An' we're marchin' with the country in the

mornin'!

We're marchin' to the music that is ringin' fur an

nigh;

You kin hear the hallelujahs as the regiments go by; We'll live for this old country, or in Freedom's cause we'll die,

We're marchin' with the country in the mornin'!

- Frank L. Stanton.

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