Classic Poem

I'd weave a wreath for those who fought
In blue upon the waves,
I drop a tear for all who sleep
Down in the coral caves,
And proudly do I touch my cap
Whene'er I meet to-day
A man who sail'd with Farragut
Thro' fire in Mobile Bay.

Oh, what a gallant sight it was
As toward the foe we bore!
Lashed to the mast, unflinching, stood
Our grand old Commodore.
I see him now above the deck,
Though time has cleared away
The battle smoke that densely hung
Above old Mobile Bay.

Torpedoes to the right and left,
Torpedoes straight ahead!
The stanch Tecumseh sinks from sight,
The waves receive her dead.
But on we press, thro' lead and iron,
On, on with pennons gay,
Whilst glory holds her wreath above
Immortal Mobile Bay.

The rebel forts belch fire and death,
But what care we for them?
Our onward course, with Farragut
To guide us, nought can stem.
The Hartford works her dreaded guns,
The Brooklyn pounds away,
And proudly flies the flag of stars
Aloft o'er Mobile Bay.

Behold you moving mass of iron
Beyond the Ossipee;
To fight the fleet with courage grim
Steams forth the Tennessee.
We hem her in with battle fire—
How furious grows the fray,
Until Surrender's flag she flies
Above red Mobile Bay.

We count our dead, we count our scars,
The proudest ever won;
We cheer the flag that gayly flies
Victorious in the sun.
No longer in the rigging stands
The hero of the day,
For he has linked his name fore'er
To deathless Mobile Bay.

Thus I would weave a wreath for all
Who fought with us that time,
And I'd embalm that glorious day
Forevermore in rhyme.
The stars above will rise and set,
The years will pass away.
But brighter all the time shall grow
The fame of Mobile Bay.

He sleeps, the bluff old Commodore
Who led with hearty will:
But ah! methinks I see him now.
Lashed to the rigging still.
I know that just beyond the tide,
In God's own glorious day.
He waits to greet the gallant tars
Who fought in Mobile Bay.