Our Orders
by Julia Ward Howe (1819-1910) |
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WEAVE no more silks, ye Lyons looms,
To deck our
girls for gay delights!
The crimson flower of battle
blooms,
And solemn marches fill the night.
Weave
but the flag whose bars to-day
Drooped heavy o'er our
early dead,
And homely garments, coarse and gray,
For
orphans that must earn their bread!
Keep back your
tunes, ye viols sweet,
That poured delight from other
lands!
Rouse there the dancer's restless feet:
The
trumpet leads our warrior bands.
And ye that wage the
war of words
With mystic fame and subtle power,
Go,
chatter to the idle birds,
Or teach the lesson of the
hour!
Ye Sibyl Arts, in one stern knot
Be all your
offices combined!
Stand close, while Courage draws the
lot,
The destiny of human kind.
And if that
destiny could fail,
The sun should darken in the sky,
The eternal bloom of Nature pale,
And God, and Truth, and
Freedom die! |
By Julia Ward Howe (1819-1910)
Listed July 2, 2013 |
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