The March to the Sea

Not Kenesaw high-arching,Nor Allatoona's glen—Though there the graves lie parching—Stayed Sherman's miles of men;From charred Atlanta marchingThey launched the sword again.The columns streamed like riversWhich in their course agree,And they streamed until their flashingMet the flashing of the sea:It was glorious glad marching,That marching to the sea.The brushed the foe before them(Shall gnats impede the bull?);Their own good bridges bore themOver swamps or torrents full,And the grand pines waving o'er themBowed to axes keen and cool.The columns grooved their channels.Enforced their own decree,And their power met nothing largerUntil it met the sea:It was glorious glad marching,A marching glad and free.Kilpatrick's snare of ridersIn zigzags mazed the land,Perplexed the pale SouthsidersWith feints on every hand;Vague menace awed the hidersIn forts beyond command.To Sherman's shifting problemNo foeman knew the key;But onward went the marchingUnpausing to the sea:It was glorious glad marching,The swinging step was free.The flankers ranged like pigeonsIn clouds through field or wood;The flocks of all those regions,The herds and horses good,Poured in and swelled the legions,For they caught the marching mood.A volley ahead! They hear it;And they hear the repartee:Fighting was but frolicIn that marching to the sea:It was glorious glad marching,A marching bold and free.All nature felt their coming,The birds like couriers flew,And the banners brightly bloomingThe slaves by thousands drew,And they marched beside the drumming,And they joined the armies blue.The cocks crowed from the cannon(Pets named from Grant and Lee),Plumed fighters and campaignersIn the marching to the sea:It was glorious glad marching,For every man was free.The foragers through calm landsSwept in tempest gay,And they breathed the air of balm-landsWhere rolled savannas lay,And they helped themselves from farm-lands—As who should say them nay?The regiments uproariousLaughed in Plenty's glee;And they marched till their broad laughterMet the laughter of the sea:It was glorious glad marching,That marching to the sea.The grain of endless acresWas threshed (as in the East)By the trampling of the Takers,Strong march of man and beast;The flails of those earth-shakersLeft a famine where they ceased.The arsenals were yielded;The sword (that was to be),Arrested in the forging,Rued that marching to the sea:It was glorious glad marching,But ah, the stern decree!For behind they left a wailing,A terror and a ban,And blazing cinders sailing,And houseless households wan,Wide zones of counties paling,And towns where maniacs ran.Was it Treason's retribution—Necessity the plea?They will long remember ShermanAnd his streaming columns free—They will long remember ShermanMarching to the sea.