The South

The South. Yes, give me the land Where the ruins are spread, And the living tread light On the heart of the dead; Yes, give me the land That is blest by the dust, And bright with the deeds Of the down trodden just. Yes, give me the land Where the battle's red blast Has flashed on the future The form of the past; Yes, give me the land That has legends and lays That tell of the memories Of long-vanished days. Yes, give me the land That hath story and song To tell of the strife Of the right with the wrong; Yes, give me the land With a grave in each spot And the 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 Looms the sunrise of morn. And the graves of the dead, With the grass over grown, May yet form the footstool Of Liberty's throne; And each simple wreck, In the waypath of might, Shall yet be a rock In the temple of Right.