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TRUE TO THE GRAY.
By Pearl Rivers.
I cannot listen to your words, the land is long and wide ; Go seek some happy Northern girl to be your loving bride; My brothers they were soldiers—the youngest of the three Was slain while fighting by the side of gallant Fitzhugh Lee !
They left his body on the field (your side the day had won), A soldier spurned him with his foot—you might have been
the one ; My lover was a soldier—he belonged to Gordon's band; A sabre pierced his gallant heart—your's might have been
He reel'd and fell, but was not dead, a horseman spurr'd
his steed And trampled on the dying brain—you may have done the
deed ; I hold no hatred in my heart, no cold, unrighteous pride, For many a gallant soldier fought upon the other side.
But still I cannot kiss the hand that smote my country sore, Nor love the foes that trampled down the colors that she
bore; Between my heart and yours there rolls a deep and crimson
tide— My brother's and my lover's blood forbid me be your bride.