War Song.
By Alexander B. Meek.
Would' at them have my love thee dearestWith a woman's proud at heart,
Which shall ever hold thee nearest
Shrined in its in most heart?
Listen, then! my country's calling
On her sons to meet the feet
Leave these grover of ross and myrtie;
Drop the dre my harpe love;
Live young Korser, scorn the forde,
When the eagle screams above.
Dost thou pause? Let Lolard daily--
Do thou for thy country fight!
Neath her noble emblem rally--
‘"God our country, and her right!"’
Listen I now her trumpet's calling
On her sentiment to her foe!
Woman a heart, soft and tender,
But proud and faithful, too,
Shall she be her land's defender?
Lover! soldier! up and do?
Setze thy father's ancient falchion,
Which once finished any cedom's star!
Till sweet place — the bow and
started the stormy strife of war!
Listen ! now thy country's calling
On her sour to meet her foe!
Sweet is love in moonlight bower!
sweet is the altar and the flame!
Sweet is springtime with her flowers!
Sweet star for the patriot's name!
Should the God who rules above thee
Doom thee to a soldier's grave.
Hearts will break but flame will love thee,
Canon, tied the among the brave
Listen, then thy country's calling
On her sons to meet her foe!
Rather would I view thee lying
On the last red field of life.
Mid thy country's heroes dying
Than to be a dastard's wife!
