AT THE CANNON'S MOUTH.
Death and doom, and blood and battle;—carnival of fiends infernal;—
Corpses, mothers, thick as autumn leaves dropt by the blustering South.
Price, we madmen pay for being jealous; sooth we soon will learn well
Of a deeper, sadder wisdom gathered at the cannon's mouth
Corpses, mothers, thick as autumn leaves dropt by the blustering South.
Price, we madmen pay for being jealous; sooth we soon will learn well
Of a deeper, sadder wisdom gathered at the cannon's mouth
Weep, ye mothers! weep but blame not. 'Tis the blasting curse of ages
Bursting like a breaker to be silent evermore and cease.
Shout, ye mothers! shout, but praise not; doom of war hath woeful wages;
But the thunder-peal of cannon is the harbinger of peace.
Bursting like a breaker to be silent evermore and cease.
Shout, ye mothers! shout, but praise not; doom of war hath woeful wages;
But the thunder-peal of cannon is the harbinger of peace.
Roar, ye mighty kings of battle! roar unto the winds of heaven;
Whirl your war cries outward through the daylight and the gloom;
Whirl your war cries outward through the daylight and the gloom;
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