The noble son on sinewy feet advancing,
I saw, out of the land of prairies, land of Ohio’s waters and of Indiana,
To the rescue the stalwart giant hurry his plenteous offspring,
Drest in blue, bearing their trusty rifles on their shoulders.

Then the Mother of All with calm voice speaking,
As to you Rebellious, (I seemed to hear her say,) why strive against
    me, and why seek my life? 
When you yourself forever provide to defend me? 
For you provided me Washington—­and now these also.

} City of Ships

City of ships! 
(O the black ships!  O the fierce ships! 
O the beautiful sharp-bow’d steam-ships and sail-ships!)
City of the world! (for all races are here,
All the lands of the earth make contributions here;)
City of the sea! city of hurried and glittering tides! 
City whose gleeful tides continually rush or recede, whirling in and
    out with eddies and foam! 
City of wharves and stores—­city of tall facades of marble and iron! 
Proud and passionate city—­mettlesome, mad, extravagant city! 
Spring up O city—­not for peace alone, but be indeed yourself, warlike! 
Fear not—­submit to no models but your own O city! 
Behold me—­incarnate me as I have incarnated you! 
I have rejected nothing you offer’d me—­whom you adopted I have adopted,
Good or bad I never question you—­I love all—­I do not condemn any thing,
I chant and celebrate all that is yours—­yet peace no more,
In peace I chanted peace, but now the drum of war is mine,
War, red war is my song through your streets, O city!

} The Centenarian’s Story

     [Volunteer of 1861-2, at Washington Park, Brooklyn, assisting
     the Centenarian.]
Give me your hand old Revolutionary, The hill-top is nigh, but a few steps, (make room gentlemen,) Up the path you have follow’d me well, spite of your hundred and
    extra years,
You can walk old man, though your eyes are almost done,
Your faculties serve you, and presently I must have them serve me.

Rest, while I tell what the crowd around us means,
On the plain below recruits are drilling and exercising,
There is the camp, one regiment departs to-morrow,
Do you hear the officers giving their orders? 
Do you hear the clank of the muskets? 
Why what comes over you now old man? 
Why do you tremble and clutch my hand so convulsively? 
The troops are but drilling, they are yet surrounded with smiles,
Around them at hand the well-drest friends and the women,
While splendid and warm the afternoon sun shines down,
Green the midsummer verdure and fresh blows the dallying breeze,
O’er proud and peaceful cities and arm of the sea between.

But drill and parade are over, they march back to quarters,
Only hear that approval of hands! hear what a clapping!

As wending the crowds now part and disperse—­but we old man,
Not for nothing have I brought you hither—­we must remain,
You to speak in your turn, and I to listen and tell.