"The
South"
by Fr. Abram Joseph Ryan (1838 - 1886)
Yes, give
me the land
Where the ruins are spread,
And the living tread light
On the hearts of the dead;
Yes, give me a land
That is blest by the dust,
And bright with the deeds
Of the down-trodden just.
Yes, give
me the land
Where the battles' red blast
Has flashed on the future
The form of the past;
Yes, give me the land
That hath legends and lays,
That tell of the memories
Of long vanished days:
Yes, give
me the land
That has story and song!
Enshrine the strife
Of the right with the wrong!
Yes, give me the land
With a grave in each spot,
And names in the graves
That shall not be forgot:
Yes, give
me the land
Of the wreck and the tomb;
There's grandeur in graves --
There's glory in gloom;
For out of the gloom
Future brightness is born,
As, after the night
Comes the sunrise of morn;
And the
graves of the dead,
With the grass overgrown,
May yet form the footstool
Of liberty's throne,
And each single wreck
In the war-path of might,
Shall yet be a rock
In the temple of right.