Classic Poem

I SING the boys of Michigan, the hardy Wolverines,
The heroes of a hundred fights, a hundred war-like scenes!
Full-armed they sprang to battle in the shock of 'sixty-one,
And turned no more for friend or foe till victory was won.

To-day the forests echo as the ringing axes glide,
And the fisher shouts to fisher as they rock along the tide;
To-morrow, as the booms are swept adown the piney streams,
In the bivouac of battle they dream the soldier's dreams.

They rally to the East of us, they rally to the West,
With the ribbons and the roses knotted on each manly breast;
The ribbons and the roses that the hand of love has wrought,
In the splendor of the palace, in the humble forest cot.

From the mountains of Virginia comes the neighing of their steeds,
And the valor of the Union is emblazoned in their deeds;
They ford the blue Potomac, they are camping by the James,
In the blood that courses heroes' veins they've writ their honored names.

On the shining Shenandoah, by the rippling Rapidan,
In the reckless raid with Stoneman, in the shock with Sheridan;
Now at Fredericksburg with Burnside, now at Gettysburg with Meade,
Where the hills of Pennsylvania resound to valiant deed.

'Twas but yesterday with Baxter, volunteers from rear to van,
That across the Rappahannock went the Seventh Michigan;
On the swinging pontoon bridges, to the muzzles of the guns, —
Hurrah! they sup in Fredericksburg, though red the river runs.

Like a meteoric shower trailing through the lurid night,
Come the troopers under Custer, spurred and booted for the fight;
There is crashing of the cannon, and the angry muskets slay,
But the trooper's in the saddle and the torch is in his way.

In the West — God speed the battle! — the Boys of Michigan
They are leading on with Sherman and with Thomas in the van;
In the hells that hem Atlanta, in the marches to the sea,
They are shaking out the guidons that have made a Nation free!

Cheers for the Boys of Michigan! Their work was nobly done,
For Grant's at Appomattox and the Rebel Chief out-run!
On the heights of lofty Lookout 'tis their banner we descry
Where the tempest of the valley smote the tempest of the sky.

Tears for the boys of Michigan, where'er their graves may be,
In the vales of old Virginia, on the hills of Tennessee!
Where the path of War lies beaten 'neath the fury of his wrath,
Where the spectres of the Prison keep the Nation's aftermath!

Cheers, cheers again, old comrades, brave sons of Michigan!
God bless you for the deeds you've done, God keep you to a man!
And cheers, brave hearts of Michigan! Aye, three times three to-day.
For that old flag for which you fought — our Nation's flag for aye!