There’s life, though it throbbeth in silent veins,--
Hymns
’T is vocal without noise;
It gushed o’er Manassas’ solemn plains,
From the blood of the MARYLAND BOYS!
That blood shall cry aloud, and rise
With an everlasting threat;
By the death of the brave, by the GOD in the skies,
_There’s life in the old land yet_!