Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/50



The sad priest-singer, in his dread despair, When our war-trumpets ceased their charging blare, Wailed, in melodious numbers, o’er the South, Her righteous Cause crushed at the cannon-mouth. He bade us fold our banner and for aye, Because its night had come and not one ray Of hope remained to gild its glorious head, And that it typified the hopeless dead.