By Mrs. L. E. Caplen, Galveston.

Air—“The Harp that once thro’ Tara’s Halls.”

’Twas on that dark and fearful morn,
That anxious hearts beat high!
And many from their friends were torn
Beneath the wintry sky.

But hark! what cannon roar is that?
Terrific—but sublime—
Wafting some mortals to their graves,
Far from their Northern clime.

As the battle rag’d, voices high
Echoed along the shore,
For death or victory was nigh
Amid the battle’s roar.

The Yanks appeared to gain the ground,
Their hopes were sure and high,
Our little boats then hove in sight,
Which caused their men to cry.

Magruder, for example sake,
The cannon first did fire,
When soon their boats were made to quake—
When one embrac’d his sire.

But death hath taken for his own
Their Captain, Lee, Monroe—
And many more they lost that day,
Whose death they’ll long deplore.

But were we favored? Sure we were,
For victory was ours!
But death had stolen our gallant Wier;
Our tears did fall in showers.

Another one, deserving most,
The brave and noble son!
Sherman! thy country’s pride! is lost—
A death most nobly won.

Come, all ye people, far and near,
Example you must take,
For Texas men and women are
Heroes for country’s sake!