SOUND AT CORE.

THE wind is fierce and loud and high,

The angry tempest hurtles by;

With quivering keel and straining sail

The ship of State confronts the gale.

Rocks are ahead and peril near;

But still we face the storm, nor fear,

Saying this brave truth o’ er and o’ er:

“The nation’ s heart is sound at core.”

We knew it in those darker days

When all the kind, familiar ways

And all the tenderness of life

Seemed lost in bitterness and strife;

When, torn with shot and riddled through,

Lay in the dust our Red and Blue,

Dropped by the gallant hands that bore,

“The nation’ s heart is sound at core.”

We said it when the war-cloud rent,

And out of field and out of tent

The bronzèd soldiers, Blue and Gray,

Took each the peaceful homeward way;

When the foiled traitors sought to attain

By fraud what force had failed to gain,—

Heart-sick, we said the words once more:

“The nation’ s heart is sound at core.”

And always, as the worst seemed near,

And stout hearts failed for very fear,

Came a great throb the country through,—

The nation’ s heart still beating true!

Ah, mother-land and mother-breast,

We still will trust you and will rest;

Although waves howl and tempests lower,

Your heart, our heart, is sound at core.