And when the soldiers in their marches,
Advanced on that September morn,
And pushed along through woodland arches,
Or passed the fields of yellow corn,
They caught a vision far away,
A dream of peaceóa happy day,
When they should drop their lurid torches,
And build along these lovely slopes,
And sit at home in their own porches,
Where died in smoke the red manís hopes.

They passed along the rocky ledges,
Above the gorges deep and wild,
And dreamed along the water edges,
With nook and glen and cove beguiled;
And thought of sloping farms that yet
Should wear the golden coronet;
Of coming far off glad Septembers,
When they should fear no foemanís scorn,
To leave the waste of dying embers,
Along their fields of ripening corn.

Rev. Dwight Williams
Lake Cayuga Region
Circa 1890

Posted by sullivan at April 14, 2006 08:42 AM
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