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THE LOSS OF THE 8ULTANA.A War Ballad.Will Cablktom, Author.I.Down at Vicksburg, grim and smoking, on a cloudy April day.Her gaudy colors flying fast—the old Sultana lay,Waiting for the welcome signal that should order her away.On her decks, all bright and smiling, stood a band or haggard men,Who had smarted, prayed, and fasted in gaunt hunger’s dreariest den;Who had tasted War’s hard fortunes, in a hostile prison pen.Pale and wasted were their features, pinched with want and prison fare;Trampled by the hoofs of hatred—wrinkled by the hand of care.Seamed and marred with ruthlessclawlngB from the hand of Despair.But when last the Mississippi drank the echoes of their cry,From the West, a roll of thunder seut an ominous reply;And the wind swept down the river with a sad, forboding sigh.But they heeded not the omen; and the merry laugh went round;In the brightness of the future, all the fearful past was drowned;And among the nineteen hundred, ran the glad cry “Homeward bound!
Newspaper Details
New Albany Public Press
New Albany, Indiana, US
Wed, Sep 30, 1885
Page 4
Full Page
Clipped by
Gene S.
USA 28 Dec 2016
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