The Message of Victory


Chas. Magnus, 12 Frankfort, St., N. Y.

The Message Of Victory.

All was so gloomy, dead and drear,
Ill bodings rang in every ear;
And harsh on every ear they broke
Like twilight bird’s ill-omen’d croak.

The ill news speeds the country through,
And darkling pictures follow too,
Of luckless discord, treacherous deed,
And trampling down of noble seed.

The friends of evil deal elate
The spiteful laugh, the gibe of hate;
In earnest guise the good attend,
And wait and wonder where ’twill end.

Then, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, a murmur loud
Comes bursting through the thunder cloud;
Is’t eagle proud on sunward fling,
Or swans more tuneful on the wing?

From golden light the song breaks out,—
“The Lord leaves not His own in doubt,
Nor aught so sacred doth deride”:
Victoria! God is on our side!

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