Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume VIII. National Spirit. 1904. | | | | III. War | | Three Hundred Thousand More | | Anonymous |
| | [September, 1861]
WE are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more! | |
| From Mississippi’s winding stream and from New England’s shore; | |
| We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear, | |
| With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear; | |
| We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before: | 5 |
| We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more! | |
| |
| If you look across the hill-tops that meet the northern sky, | |
| Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry; | |
| And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy veil aside, | |
| And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride, | 10 |
| And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour: | |
| We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more! | |
| |
| If you look all up our valleys where the growing harvests shine, | |
| You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast forming into line; | |
| And children from their mother’s knees are pulling at the weeds, | 15 |
| And learning how to reap and sow against their country’s needs; | |
| And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door: | |
| We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more! | |
| |
| You have called us, and we ’re coming, by Richmond’s bloody tide | |
| To lay us down, for Freedom’s sake, our brothers’ bones beside, | 20 |
| Or from foul treason’s savage grasp to wrench the murderous blade, | |
| And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade. | |
| Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before: | |
| We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more! | | | | |
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