I love you as I love my life, You are my only son; Your country calls, go forth and fight Till Freedom's cause is won. It may be that you fall in death, Contending for your home, Yet your aged mother will not be Forsaken though alone. A thousand generous hearts there are Throughout this sunny land, Whose ample fortunes will be spent With an unsparing hand. Now go, my son, a mother's prayers Will ever follow thee; And in the thickest of the fight Strike home for liberty! On every hill, in every glen, We'll fight till we are free; We'll fight till every limpid brook Runs crimson to the sea. No truce we know, till every foe Shall leave our hallowed sod, And we regain that heaven-born boon, "Freedom to worship God." NEW ORLEANS, LA. OUR BOYS ARE GONE. BY COL. HAMILTON WASHINGTON. Our boys are gone 'till the war is o'er, In the ranks of death you'll find them; With duty's path of blood before, And with all they love behind them: They bear our hearts to the tented field-- Each danger makes them dearer-- Their faithful hearts our only shield From the foe still drawing nearer. With pride we hear of the perils braved And the wreaths they win of glory; With joy we hear of lov'd ones saved From each field of battle gory; And joy is mix'd with fleeting pain As we look to Heaven o'er us, And think that there we'll meet again, With the brave who've gone before us. THE SOUTHERN PLEIADES. BY LAURA LORRIMER. When first our Southern flag arose, Beside the heaving sea, It bore upon its silken folds A green Palmetto tree. All honor to that banner brave, It roused the blood of yore, And nerved the arm of Southern men For valiant deeds once more. When storm clouds darkened o'er our sky, That star, the first of seven, Shone out amid the mist and gloom, To light our country's heaven. The glorious seven! long may their flag Wave proudly on the breeze; Long may they burn on fame's broad sky-- The Southern Pleiades! _Nashville Patriot._ THE STARS AND BARS. BY A. J. REQUIER. Fling wide the dauntless banner To every Southern breeze, Baptized in flame, with Sumter's name-- A patriot and a hero's fame-- From Moultrie to the seas! That it may cleave the morning sun And, streaming, sweep the night, The emblem of a battle won With Yankee ships in sight. Come, hucksters, from your markets, Come, bigots, from your caves, Come, venal spies, with brazen lies Bewildering your deluded eyes, That we may dig your graves; Come, creatures of a sordid clown And driveling traitor's breath, A single blast shall blow you down Upon the fields of Death.