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By spicy groves, where beauty roves, and where the Yankees swarm,
With vandal feet, in hireling droves, she swears her vengeance warm.
Arkansas strikes Missouri's hand—they cross the bayonet, Each thinking of a glorious band with blood of kindred
met; They bless the Post, whose little host fought all but treason
well; And Elkhorn's grief and Springfield's boast their patriot
From where the cypress droppeth down tear-dews on Jackson's tomb ;
From where the darkest mountains frown, and brightest valleys bloom,
All broad of breast, with lance in rest, and in their swift-streams free,
Pour down the bravest and the best of sinewy Tennessee.
With Vicksburg boiling in their veins, the Mississippians
cheer, With wildest joy, the trumpet-strains that speak the battle
near; O hear! O hark! the name of Stark is passed along the
line— A thousand eyes more keenly mark where gathering foes
From Chickamauga to the flames that o'er Savannah glare, Inspired by Bee and Barton's names the Georgians, too are there;