Round Freedom's lair, with weapons bare,
We greet the light divine
Of those who throned the goddess there,
And yet inspire the shrine!

Our loved ones' graves are at our feet,
Their homesteads at our back--
No belted Southron can retreat
With women on his track;
Peal, bannered host, the proud decree
Which from your fathers went,
"No earthly power can rule the free
But by their own consent!"




Wouldst Thou Have Me Love Thee.

By Alex B. Meek.



Wouldst thou have me love thee, dearest,
With a woman's proudest heart,
Which shall ever hold thee nearest,
Shrined in its inmost heart?
Listen, then! My country's calling
On her sons to meet the foe!
Leave these groves of rose and myrtle;