James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902.
December 23Savannah
By Alethea S. Burroughs
T
Thy woes a wondrous beauty shed!
Not like a lamb to slaughter led,
But with the lion’s monarch tread,
Thou comest to thy battle bed.
Savannah! O Savannah!
The blue veins swell beneath thy wrong;
To thee the triple cords belong
Of woe and death and shameless wrong,
And spirit vaunted long, too long!
Savannah! O Savannah!
Only the martyrs’ blood is there;
It gleams upon thy bosom bier
It moves thy deep, deep soul to prayer,
And tunes a dirge for thy sad ear,
Savannah! O Savannah!
For weal or woe, thou Freedom Bride;
The sword-sheath sparkles at thy side,
Thy plighted troth, whate’er betide,
Thou hast but Freedom for thy guide,
Savannah! O Savannah!
Still at thy feet the old oak towers;
Still fragrant are thy jessamine bowers,
And things of beauty, love, and flowers
Are smiling o’er this land of ours,
My sunny home, Savannah!
Thou seest woe and death and night,
And blood upon thy banner bright;
But in thy full wrath’s kindled might
What carest thou for woe or night?
My rebel home, Savannah!
Thy woes a wondrous beauty shed;
Not like a lamb to slaughter led,
But with the lion’s monarch tread,
Oh! come unto thy battle bed,
Savannah! O Savannah!