53. songs of the rebels.
The war storm.
Often by a treacherous seasideI have heard the ocean's roar,
Often, at its ebb or flood tide,
Listened to its mystic lore.
Sometimes it would whisper to me
Words of smooth and liquid tone,
And its pictures, memory drew me,
Sweet as breath from tropic zone;
Ever to me sang its story,
Ever to me talked the sea;
Evening sun would paint its glory,
Bringing sober thoughts to me.
I would think how like the passions
Is the smooth or stormy sea;
Breath of heat or cold may fashion
Rage, or hope, or gloom, or glee.
I, to-day, have seen the flood tide
Of our country's strength and.youth,
Plain as waves upon the seaside,
And as mighty as is truth.
[36] No faint breath has caused this motion,
No faint ripple raised this storm;
But like tempest o'er the ocean--
In the summer, calm and warm--
We have listened to the muttering
Of the thunder in the sky,
Till at length its mighty uttering
Is the battle's wildest cry.
Stormy clouds, of blackest error,
Drove along this battle-car,
Freighted it with bloody terror,
And plunged us in this fearful war.
Rain of lead we know will rattle,
Steel will flash, and blood will flow,
Cannon thunder through the battle,
And its ending none can know.
Yes! there is a glorious lightness
In the soldier's scarlet shroud;
History touches it with brightness;
Fame will sound his requiem loud,
Lasting as the long forever,
Reaching ages as they come,
Telling round the fireside, ever,
How he died defending home.
--N. O. Picayune.
