[from the Selma (Ala) Reporter.]
Alabama to Virginia.
By J Parker.
‘ Virginia, true glory is thine!And worthy "old mother," art thou,
Of the rarest leaves we can twine
In a wreath for thy radiant brow.
Thy bosom is bleeding and torn,
Thine eye is beclouded with tears;
Oh, heavy the woe thou hast worn,
But never a burden of fears!
Amid thy graves thou bast stood--
The graves of thy brightest and best;
Complaints have not flowed with thy blood
Nor regrets with sighs from thy breast.
Thy daughters have wandered afar,
And wept for the wounds thou hast felt;
Thy name has ascended in prayer,
Wherever the praying have knelt.
If God in his anger should pour
The war flood all over our land,
We'll rush like a wave to thy shore;
A devoted — unbroken band.
Where thy hills their cloud-banners wave,
We'll see the dark deluge arise,
And give each proud form to the grave,
And each soldier's soul to the skies
But brighter thy future shall be,
Thou "mother of States" and of men;
Thy brave sons shall always be free,
Thy daughters soon blooming again.
The billows that roll to the base
Of thy mountains, blood dyed and red,
Shall recede and leave in their place,
Thy foemen all flying or dead.
Virginia, be patient a while,
Just as then hast hitherto been;
An Eden again shall thou smile
And no serpent slime its way in.
’
