Cut down trees in the forest,
And build me a wooden house.

Call the people together,
The young men and the sires,
The digger in the harvest field,
Hireling and him that hires;

And here in a pine state-house
They shall choose men to rule
In every needful faculty,
In church and state and school.

Lo, now! if these poor men
Can govern the land and sea,

And make just laws below the sun,

As planets faithful be.

And ye shall succor men;

'Tis nobleness to serve;

Help them who cannot help again:
Beware from right to swerve.

I break your bonds and masterships, And I unchain the slave:

Free be his heart and hand henceforth

As wind and wandering wave.

I cause from every creature
His proper good to flow:

As much as he is and doeth,
So much he shall bestow.

But, laying hands on another
To coin his labor and sweat,
He goes in pawn to his victim
For eternal years in debt.

Today unbind the captive,
So only are ye unbound;
Lift up a people from the dust,
Trump of their rescue, sound!

Pay ransom to the owner,

And fill the bag to the brim.
Who is the owner? The slave is owner,
And ever was. Pay him.

O North! give him beauty for rags,

And honor, O South! for his shame;
Nevada! coin thy golden crags
With Freedom's image and name.

Up! and the dusky race
That sat in darkness long-

Be swift their feet as antelopes,

And as behemoth strong.

Come, East and West and North,
By races, as snow-flakes,

And carry my purpose forth,
Which neither halts nor shakes.

My will fulfilled shall be,
For, in daylight or in dark,
My thunderbolt has eyes to see
His way home to the mark.

SHERMAN1

RICHARD WATSON GILDER

Richard Watson Gilder (1844-1909) was among the finest literary workmen of the past generation. His unusual lyrical power and an excellent choice of dignified poetic themes made possible a finely wrought body of verse, much of it highly patriotic in spirit. For twenty-eight years he served as editor of the Century Magazine.

GLORY and honor and fame and everlasting laudation For our captains who loved not war, but fought for the life of the nation;

Who knew that, in all the land, one slave meant strife, not peace;

Who fought for freedom, not glory; made war, that war might cease.

1 From The Complete Poetical Works of Richard Watson Gilder. Used by permission of Rodman Gilder and by special arrangement with Houghton Mifflin Company.

Glory and honor and fame; the beating of muffled drums;

The wailing funeral dirge, as the flag-wrapt coffin

comes;

Fame and honor and glory, and joy for a noble soul; For a full and splendid life, and laureled rest at the goal.

Glory and honor and fame; the pomp that a soldier

prizes;

The league-long waving line as the marching falls and rises;

Rumbling of caissons and guns; the clatter of horses' feet,

'And a million awe-struck faces far down the waiting street.

But better than martial woe, and the pageant of civic

sorrow;

Better than praise of today, or the statue we build

tomorrow;

Better than honor or glory, and History's iron pen, Was the thought of duty done and the love of his

fellow-men.

THE SWORD OF ROBERT LEE1

ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN

Abram Joseph Ryan (1839-1886), or Father Ryan, as he is now generally termed, was a Virginian. He served as a chaplain in the Confederate Army and in his writings presents the side of the South. In this poem he does honor to the man who stands first among Southerners brought into prominence by the Civil War.

FORTH from its scabbard, pure and bright,
Flashed the sword of Lee!

Far in front of the deadly fight,

High o'er the brave in the cause of Right,
Its stainless sheen, like a beacon light,
Led us to Victory!

Out of its scabbard, where, full long,
It slumbered peacefully,

Roused from its rest by the battle's song,
Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong,
Guarding the right, avenging the wrong,
Gleamed the sword of Lee.

Forth from its scabbard, high in air,
Beneath Virginia's sky;

And they who saw it gleaming there,
And knew who bore it, knelt to swear

That where the sword led they would dare
To follow and to die.

1 From Father Ryan's Poems. P. J. Kenedy & Sons. Used by permission.