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SHINE, SUN OF THE SUMMER.JUNE, 1864.
HINE, sun of the summer; bloom, roses of June!Bring joy to the senses and health to the brain:
Our ears ache with cries from each Southern lagoon,
Our hearts ache with news from the fields of the slain—
Bring us balm for the pain.
Shine, sun of the summer; blow, wind of the west,
And hurl these black battle-clouds back to the wave,
Where, with seals of destruction on forehead and breast,
(The scourge of our nation, the shame of the brave,)
Charleston cowers by her grave.
And hurl these black battle-clouds back to the wave,
Where, with seals of destruction on forehead and breast,
(The scourge of our nation, the shame of the brave,)
Charleston cowers by her grave.
