My heart in its sadness turns fondly to thee,
Gallant South! When the noble, the gifted, the brave,
Bright South! Tho' the winter is closing around,
Dear South! Tho' thy beautiful forests and hills,
Sweet South! Lovely land of beautiful flowers,
Darling South! When I think every forest and grove,
Dear land where our lov'd ones fought hard to be free.
I loved thee when struggling and bleeding and sore,
But now thou art conquered, I love thee the more,
But now thou art conquered, I love thee the more.
Dash'd onward to battle like wave after wave,
Determin'd to die for the land they adore,
Tho' vain were their efforts, I love thee the more,
Tho' vain were their efforts, I love thee the more.
And dead leaves of Autumn now carpet the ground,
Thy beauties of woodland, or river and shore,
Still charm the beholder, I love thee the more,
Still charm the beholder, I love thee the more.
Thy emerald valleys and silvery rills,
Are subject to strangers, not free as of yore,
Thus changed and in sorrow, I love thee the more,
Thus changed and in sorrow, I love thee the more.
Tho' cool now the zephyrs and faded thy bowers,
O soon shall the springtime thy beauties restore,
And bloom o'er our lost ones, I love thee the more,
And bloom o'er our lost ones, I love thee the more.
And valley have pillowed the heads that we loved,
Have echoed their warery, and drank of their gore,
I feel thou art sacred and love thee the more,
I feel thou art sacred and love thee the more.
