Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CALL TO FREEMAN, by MOSES OWEN


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE CALL TO FREEMAN, by                    
First Line: But for three hundred thousand of freeman true and brave
Last Line: That freedom's fires shall brighter glow -- that men can yet be free.
Subject(s): American Civil War; Emancipation Movement & Proclamation; Freedom; Slavery; U.s. - History; Antislavery Movement - United States; Liberty; Serfs


But for three hundred thousand of freemen true and brave,
To crush the serpent Treason -- a bleeding land to save?
To raise the starry banner o'er Freedom's sacred soil,
To keep intact our father's gift gained with such ceaseless toil?
We know our brothers, marshalled, are panting for the fray,
Not great in force but great in heart they wait the coming day;
The foe, exultant, presses and boasts that right is low
Up every Freeman of the North, and show them 'tis not so!

Young man, arise! each southern breeze is fraught with dire alarm,
Your country calls! -- you can but hear! -- she needs your stalwart arm;
Your brothers call! -- full well they've borne the burden of the day,
Gird on your armor -- meet them South, and rout the foe away.
Obey the call and hurry on -- three hundred thousand strong,
And when you're gone -- we'll follow on -- we hope it won't be long;
Come from the workshop and the bench, send up the deaf'ning cry,
"For Freedom, happy, we will live, or happier still will die."

Three hundred thousand, well we know, with those before us gone,
Must make it lighten all around and show the coming morn;
But for the mid-day panting, our souls await your call,
But give it "Father Abram" we'll "push them to the wall!"
This is no baby's pastime, no sight nor grand review,
A bleeding country, groaning, calls; we all have work to do;
Why stop at home deriding the Southron's skill and power,
And boasting of the conq'ring North, when dark the tempests lower?
For Right must have her champions -- and strength decides the fray,
Trust in your powder -- in your men, and God will give the day.

List to that wail on Southern breeze! your brother's tones are there!
They speak and urge you now to come on every breath of air;
And can ye now forsake them -- the fearless and the brave?
No! Freemen, No! -- they've gone before -- if needs we'll share their grave!
Go ask that Spartan mother, though all her sons have gone,
If she'd one more -- for Freedom's cause she would not urge him on?
I see her dark eye kindle -- I hear her stern reply,
"Go forth my boy, I give you up, there is a God on high!
"And living, is but dying, if with a coward's fear,
"You dare not face your country's foe, howe'er he may appear.
"Your father, boy, was eager to smite the Briton's pride;
"You are his son -- I know you'll stand firm by your brother's side;
"He gave his life for Freedom and, 'mid the cannon's roar
"He only mourned he could not live to give it o'er and o'er!
"His spirit now is present -- his voice is breathing low,
"Go forth my boy, your father bids, your father bids you go!"

Then give the call! -- the Eastern States will hurl their legions on,
The noble West bear on the cry, -- Maine join with Oregon;
Atlantic to Pacific speak, and scorning Nations see
That Freedom's fires shall brighter glow -- that men can yet be free.





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