WOULD’ST THOU HAVE ME LOVE THEE?

By Alex. B. Meek, Mobile, Ala.

Would’st thou have me love thee, dearest,
With a woman’s proudest heart,
Which shall ever hold thee nearest
Shrined in its inmost heart?
Listen, then! My country’s calling
On her sons to meet the foe!
Leave these groves of rose and myrtle;
Drop thy dreamy harp of love!
Like young Korner—scorn the turtle,
When the eagle screams above!

Dost thou pause? Let dastards dally,
Do thou for thy country fight!
’Neath her noble emblem rally—
“God, our country, and our right!”
Listen! now her trumpets calling
On her sons to meet the foe!
Woman’s heart is soft and tender,
But ’tis proud and faithful too:
Shall she be her land’s defender?
Lover! Soldier! up and do!

Seize thy father’s ancient falchion,
Which once flashed as freedom’s star!
’Til sweet peace—the bow and halcyon—
Stilled the stormy strife of war.
Listen! now thy country’s calling
On her sons to meet the foe!
Sweet is love in moonlight bowers!
Sweet the altar and the flame!
Sweet the Spring-time with her flowers!
Sweeter far the patriot’s name!

Should the God who smiles above thee,
Doom thee to a soldier’s grave,
Hearts will break, but fame will love thee,
Canonized among the brave!
Listen, then! thy country’s calling
On her sons to meet the foe!
Rather would I view thee lying
On the last red field of strife,
’Mid thy country’s heroes dying,
Than become a dastard’s wife!