The New Zealand Survey
A Parting for War.—A Song
A Parting for War.—A Song.
There’s music in the clash of arms
When Freedom calls to duty, love;
Though parting moves thee with alarms,
And dims the eye of beauty, love!
Yet Freedom’s call, like Heaven’s own voice,
Must still be heard in season, love;
And freeborn hearts will aye rejoice
To make that their chief reason, love!
War; Liberty; Love; OppressionThere’s glory ’mid the din of war,
Though nought ye see but danger, love;
Should Freedom’s sons e’er brook debar
From proving her avenger, love!
’Tis thine, indeed, to weep o’er ills
Which tyrant pride inflicteth, love;
But be it mine to thwart that will
Which Freedom’s joys restricteth, love!
There’s honor on the gory field,
That’s worth the pains of reaping, love;
When daring deeds must Freedom shield,
While held in holy keeping, love!
And Heav’n will surely bless the brave
With favors rich and ample, love;
Then who so mean as yield his slave
Who sacred rights would trample, love!