86. song of the Southern women.Oh, Abraham Lincoln, we call thee to hark
To the song we are singing, we Joans of Arc;
While our brothers are bleeding, we fear not to bleed;
We'll face the Red Horror, should there be need.
By our brothers we'll stand on the terrible field;
By our brothers we'll stand, and we'll ask for no shield,
By our brothers we'll stand as a torch in the dark,
To shine on thy treachery,--we Joans of Arc.
Behold our free plumes of the wild eagle dark;
Behold them, and take our white brows for thy mark;
We fear not thy cannon, we heed not thy drum;
The deeper thy thunder, the stronger we come.
Is woman a coward? No, no, she is brave!
Oh, nothing but Love ever made her a slave;
In home's happy circle she's poetry's lark,
But threaten that home, and she's Joan of Arc.
Oh, Abraham Lincoln, we call thee to hark!
Thou Comet of Satan I thou Boast of the Dark!
Take off thy red shadow from Washington's land--
Back! back! for thy footstep is slavery's brand.
Future-eyed Prophecy cries to thee, DowN!
For she sees on thy forehead the hope of a crown;
The fire that sleeps in our Southern eyes dark,
Would lighten in battle — we're Joans of Arc.