Classic Poem

Men of the North! it is no time
To quit the battle-field;
When danger fronts your rear and van
It is no time to yield.

No time to bend the battle's crest
Before the wily foe,
And, ostrich-like, to hide your heads
From the impending blow.

The minions of a baffled wrong
Are marshalling their clan,
Rise up, rise up, enchanted North!
And strike for God and man.

This is no time for careless ease;
No time for idle sleep;
Go light the fires in every camp,
And solemn sentries keep.

The foe ye foiled upon the field
Has only changed his base;
New dangers crowd around you
And stare you in the face.

O Northern men! within your hands
Is held no common trust;
Secure the victories won by blood
When treason bit the dust.

'Tis yours to banish from the land
Oppression's iron rule;
And o'er the ruin'd auction-block
Erect the common school.

To wipe from labor's branded brow
The curse that shames the land;
And teach the freedman how to wield
The ballot in his hand.

This is the nation's golden hour,
Nerve every heart and hand,
To build on Justice, as a rock,
The future of the land.

True to your trust, oh, never yield
One citadel of right!
With Truth and Justice clasping hands
Ye yet shall win the fight!