All nature felt their coming, The birds like couriers flew, And the banners brightly blooming The slaves by thousands drew, And they marched beside the drumming, And they joined the armies blue. The cocks crowed from the cannon (Pets named from Grant and Lee), Plumed fighters and campaigners In the marching to the sea: It was glorious glad marching, For every man was free. The foragers through calm lands Swept in tempest gay, And they breathed the air of balm-lands Where rolled savannas lay, And they helped themselves from farm-lands-- As who should say them nay? The regiments uproarious Laughed in Plenty’s glee; And they marched till their broad laughter Met the laughter of the sea: It was glorious glad marching, That marching to the sea. The grain of endless acres Was threshed (as in the East) By the trampling of the Takers, Strong march of man and beast; The flails of those earth-shakers Left a famine where they ceased. The arsenals were yielded; The sword (that was to be), Arrested in the forging, Rued that marching to the sea: It was glorious glad marching, But ah, the stern decree! For behind they left a wailing, A terror and a ban, And blazing cinders sailing, And houseless households wan, Wide zones of counties paling, And towns where maniacs ran. Was it Treason’s retribution-- Necessity the plea? They will long remember Sherman And his streaming columns free-- They will long remember Sherman Marching to the sea. The Frenzy in the Wake.[14] Sherman’s advance through the Carolinas. (February, 1865.) So strong to suffer, shall we be Weak to contend, and break The sinews of the Oppressor’s knee That grinds upon the neck? O, the garments rolled in blood Scorch in cities wrapped in flame, And the African--the imp! He gibbers, imputing shame. Shall Time, avenging every woe, To us that joy allot Which Israel thrilled when Sisera’s brow Showed gaunt and showed the clot? Curse on their foreheads, cheeks, and eyes-- The Northern faces--true To the flag we hate, the flag whose stars Like planets strike us through. From frozen Maine they come, Far Minnesota too; They come to a sun whose rays disown-- May it wither them as the dew! The ghosts of our slain appeal: “Vain shall our victories be” But back from its ebb the flood recoils-- Back in a whelming sea. With burning woods our skies are brass, The pillars of dust are seen; The live-long day their cavalry pass-- No crossing the road between. We were sore deceived--an awful host! They move like a roaring wind. Have we gamed and lost? but even despair Shall never our hate rescind.