Maryland, My Maryland
by
James Ryder Randall (1839�1908) |
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The despot's heel is on thy shore,
Maryland, My
Maryland!
His torch is at thy temple door,
Maryland,
My Maryland!
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked
the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle queen of
yore,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Hark to an exiled
son's appeal,
Maryland, My Maryland!
My Mother State!
to thee I kneel,
Maryland, My Maryland!
For life and
death, for woe and weal,
Thy peerless chivalry reveal,
And gird they beauteous limbs with steel,
Maryland! My
Maryland!
Thou wilt not cower in the dust,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Thy beaming sword shall never
rust,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Remember Carroll's sacred
trust,
Remember Howard's warlike thrust,-
And all they
slumberers with the just,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Come! 'tis the red dawn of the day,
Maryland, My
Maryland!
Come with thy panoplied array,
Maryland, My
Maryland!
With Ringgold's spirit for the fray,
With
Watson's blood at Monterey,
With fearless Lowe and
dashing May,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Come! for thy
shield is bright and strong,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong,
Maryland, My
Maryland!
Come! to thine own heroic throng,
Stalking
with Liberty along,
And cgive a new Key to thy song,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Dear Mother! burst the
tyrant's chain,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Virginia should
not call in vain!
Maryland, My Maryland!
She meets her
sisters on the plain-
"Sic semper!" 'tis the proud
refrain
That baffles minions back amain,
Maryland! My
Maryland!
I see the blush upon thy cheek,
Maryland, My Maryland!
For thou wast ever bravely meek,
Maryland, My Maryland!
But lo! There surges forth a
shriek
From hill to hill, from creek to creek-
Potomac
calls to Chesapeake,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Thou
wilt not yield the vandal toll,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Thou wilt not crook to his control,
Maryland, My
Maryland!
Better the fire upon thee roll,
Better the
blade, the shot, the bowl,
Than crucifixion of the soul,
Maryland! My Maryland!
I hear the distant
thunder-hum,
Maryland, My Maryland!
The Old Line's
bugle, fife, and drum,
Maryland, My Maryland!
She is
not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb-
Huzza! she spurns the
Northern scum!
She breathes! she burns! she'll come!
she'll come!
Maryland! My Maryland! |
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By James Ryder Randall (1839�1908)
Listed September 4, 2013
This poem became a famous war song of the Confederacy
and later the state song of Maryland.
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