"TALK of pluck!" pursued the Sailor, Set at euchre on his elbow, "I was on the wharf at Charleston, Just ashore from off the runner. "It was gray and dirty weather, And I heard a drum go rolling, Rub-a-dubbing in the distance, Awful dour-like and defiant. "In and out among the cotton, Mud, and chains, and stores, and anchors, Tramped a squad of battered scarecrows -- Poor old Dixie's bottom dollar! "Some had shoes, but all had rifles, Them that was n't bald was beardless, And the drum was rolling 'Dixie,' And they stepped to it like men, sir! "Rags and tatters, belts and bayonets, On they swung, the drum a-rolling, Mum and sour. It looked like fighting, And they meant it too, by thunder!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A FAT LADY SEEN FROM THE TRAIN by FRANCES CROFTS DARWIN CORNFORD THE ROARING FROST by ALICE MEYNELL THE NEW YEAR by ALFRED TENNYSON YOUTH AND CALM by MATTHEW ARNOLD I WOULD NOT LIFT THY VEIL by A. LOUISE ASHWORTH BENNINGTON by WILLIAM HENRY BABCOCK THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 1 by WILLIAM BASSE |