By PEARL RIVERS. I cannot listen to your words, the land is long and wide; Go seek some happy Northern girl to be your loving bride; My brothers they were soldiers--the youngest of the three Was slain while fighting by the side of gallant Fitzhugh Lee! They left his body on the field (your side the day had won), A soldier spurned him with his foot--you might have been the one; My lover was a soldier--he belonged to Gordon's band; A sabre pierced his gallant heart--your's might have been the hand. He reel'd and fell, but was not dead, a horseman spurr'd his steed And trampled on the dying brain--you may have done the deed; I hold no hatred in my heart, no cold, unrighteous pride, For many a gallant soldier fought upon the other side. But still I cannot kiss the hand that smote my country sore, Nor love the foes that trampled down the colors that she bore; Between my heart and yours there rolls a deep and crimson tide-- My brother's and my lover's blood forbid me be your bride. The girls who lov'd the boys in gray--the girls to country true, May ne'er in wedlock give their hands to those who wore the blue. WE KNOW THAT WE WERE REBELS; OR, WHY CAN WE NOT BE BROTHERS? By CLARENCE PRENTICE. Why can we not be brothers? the battle now is o'er; We've laid our bruised arms on the field to take them up no more; We who have fought you hard and long, now overpower'd, stand As poor, defenseless prisoners in our own native land. CHORUS.--We know that we were rebels, And we don't deny the name, We speak of that which we have done With grief, but not with shame! But we have rights most sacred, by solemn compact bound, Seal'd by the blood that freely gush'd from many a ghastly wound; When Lee gave up his trusty sword, and his men laid down their arms, It was that they should live at home, secure from war's dire harms. CHORUS. And surely, since we're now disarm'd, we are not to be dreaded; Our old chiefs, who on many fields our trusty columns headed, Are fast within an iron grasp, and manacled with chains, Perchance, 'twixt dreary walls to stay as long as life remains! CHORUS. O shame upon the coward band who, in the conflict dire, Went not to battle for their cause, 'mid the ranks of steel and fire, Yet now, since all the fighting's done, are hourly heard to cry: "Down with the traitors! hang them all! each rebel dog shall die!" CHORUS. We know that we were rebels, we don't deny the name, We speak of that which we have done with grief, but not with shame! And we never will acknowledge that the blood the South has spilt, Was shed defending what we deemed a cause of wrong and guilt. CHORUS. WEARING OF THE GRAY.