For behind they left a wailing,
  A terror and a ban,
And blazing cinders sailing,
  And houseless households wan,
Wide zones of counties paling,
  And towns where maniacs ran. 
        Was it Treason’s retribution—­
          Necessity the plea? 
        They will long remember Sherman
          And his streaming columns free—­
            They will long remember Sherman
            Marching to the sea.

The Frenzy in the Wake.[14]
Sherman’s advance through the Carolinas. 
(February, 1865.)

So strong to suffer, shall we be
  Weak to contend, and break
The sinews of the Oppressor’s knee
  That grinds upon the neck? 
    O, the garments rolled in blood
      Scorch in cities wrapped in flame,
    And the African—­the imp! 
      He gibbers, imputing shame.

Shall Time, avenging every woe,
  To us that joy allot
Which Israel thrilled when Sisera’s brow
  Showed gaunt and showed the clot? 
    Curse on their foreheads, cheeks, and eyes—­
      The Northern faces—­true
    To the flag we hate, the flag whose stars
      Like planets strike us through.

From frozen Maine they come,
  Far Minnesota too;
They come to a sun whose rays disown—­
  May it wither them as the dew! 
    The ghosts of our slain appeal: 
      “Vain shall our victories be”
    But back from its ebb the flood recoils—­
      Back in a whelming sea.

With burning woods our skies are brass,
  The pillars of dust are seen;
The live-long day their cavalry pass—­
  No crossing the road between. 
    We were sore deceived—­an awful host! 
      They move like a roaring wind. 
    Have we gamed and lost? but even despair
      Shall never our hate rescind.

The Fall of Richmond. 
The tidings received in the Northern Metropolis. 
(April, 1865.)

What mean these peals from every tower,
  And crowds like seas that sway? 
The cannon reply; they speak the heart
  Of the People impassioned, and say—­
A city in flags for a city in flames,
  Richmond goes Babylon’s way—­
        Sing and pray.

O weary years and woeful wars,
  And armies in the grave;
But hearts unquelled at last deter
The helmed dilated Lucifer—­
  Honor to Grant the brave,
Whose three stars now like Orion’s rise
  When wreck is on the wave—­
        Bless his glaive.

Well that the faith we firmly kept,
  And never our aim forswore
For the Terrors that trooped from each recess
When fainting we fought in the Wilderness,
  And Hell made loud hurrah;
But God is in Heaven, and Grant in the Town,
  And Right through might is Law—­
        God’s way adore.

The Surrender at Appomattox.  (April, 1865.)