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Alas! one day the mule was missed, ah! who could tell his
fate? The farmer, like a man bereft, searched early and searched
late; And as he passed from camp to camp, with stricken face, the
Cried out to ev'ryone he met, " Oh, Mister, where 's my
Dedicated to the Davis Guardsó(The Living and the Dead). By Mrs. M. J. Young.
Sabine Pass! in letters of gold, Seem written upon the sky to-day,
Sabine Pass ! with rhythmic feet, Comes passionately stepping- down my lay.
Sabine Pass ! and the white sail ships, With their cruel cannons' grinning- teeth,
Tearing in shreds the sullen smoke,
That seem'd weaving for us a winding sheet.
Sabine Pass! with its Irish hearts,
As true as the blessings the Shamrock brings, Hearts as full of royal blood
As that which nerves the arms of kings.