by Edward S. Ellis.From New-England's granite mountains,
From the North's resounding woods,
From the far West's flashing fountains,
Pour the living human floods.
Onward sweeps the aroused nation,
From the lakes and streams and sea;
Onward for their home's salvation,
And the fight for liberty.
Deeds, not words, make men immortal
In this grand, heroic age;
He who wills can ope the portal
To a name on history's page.
Know ye not that revolutions
Are the throes of struggling Right?
In these national ablutions
It must triumph over Might.
What tough but a child in learning,
When the war-note onward rolls,
While our country's fate is turning,
'Tis not heads we need — but souls.
Some must make their names historic,
Who, the future soon will tell;
Some must perform deeds heroic
And the roll of glory swell.
Strike then for the truth eternal;
Strike then, for the cause is just;
Strike then at the wrong infernal,
Till it bites again the dust.