The despot’s heel is on thy shore,
Maryland!
His torch is at thy temple door,
Maryland!
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle-queen of yore,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Hark to an exiled son’s appeal,
Maryland!
My Mother State, to thee I...
Just as the spring came laughing through the strife,
With all its gorgeous cheer,
In the bright April of historic life
Fell the great cannoneer.
The wondrous lulling of a hero’s breath
His bleeding country weeps;
Hushed, in the alabaster arms of Death,
Our young Marcellus sleeps.
Nobler and grander than the...
The saviour, bowed beneath his cross, climbed up the dreary hill,
And from the agonizing wreath ran many a crimson rill;
The cruel Roman thrust him on with un-relenting hand,
Till, staggering slowly mid the crowd, He fell upon the sand.
A little bird that warbled near, that memorable day,
Flitted around and strove to wrench one single thorn away;...
[1861]
the Despot’s heel is on thy shore,
Maryland!
His torch is at thy temple door,
Maryland!
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle queen of yore,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Hark to thy wandering son’s appeal,
Maryland!...
