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Rh The foragers through calm lands

Swept in tempest gay,

And they breathed the air of balm-lands

Where rolled savannas lay,

And they helped themselves from farm-lands—

As who should say them nay?

The regiments uproarious

Laughed in Plenty's glee;

And they marched till their broad laughter

Met the laughter of the sea:

It was glorious glad marching,

That marching to the sea.

The grain of endless acres

Was threshed (as in the East)

By the trampling of the Takers,

Strong march of man and beast;

The flails of those earth-shakers

Left a famine where they ceased.

The arsenals were yielded;

The sword (that was to be),

Arrested in the forging,

Rued that marching to the sea:

It was glorious glad marching,

But ah, the stern decree!