I see the marshaling of
the hosts for "glorious war." I see the fine banners waving and hear
the cry everywhere, "_To arms! to arms!_" And I also see our country at
peace and prosperous, our fine cities look grand and gay, our fields rich
in abundant harvests, our people happy and contented. All these pass
in imagination before me. Then I look and see glorious war in all its
splendor. I hear the shout and charge, the boom of artillery and the
rattle of small arms. I see gaily-dressed officers charging backwards
and forwards upon their mettled war horses, clothed in the panoply of
war. I see victory and conquest upon flying banners. I see our arms
triumph in every battle. And, O, my friends, I see another scene.
I see broken homes and broken hearts. I see war in all of its
desolation. I see a country ruined and impoverished. I see a nation
disfranchised and maltreated. I see a commonwealth forced to pay
dishonest and fraudulent bonds that were issued to crush that people.
I see sycophants licking the boots of the country's oppressor. I see
other and many wrongs perpetrated upon a conquered people. But maybe
it is but the ghosts and phantoms of a dreamy mind, or the wind as it
whistles around our lonely cabin-home.
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