by: James Russell Lowell
- Z fer war, I call it murder,--
- There you hev it plain an' flat;
- I don't want to go no furder
- Than my Testyment fer that....
- They may talk o' Freedom's airy
- Tell they'er pupple in the face,--
- It's a grand gret cemetary
- Fer the barthrights of our race;
- They jest want this Californy
- So's to lug new slave-states in
- To abuse ye, an' scorn ye,
- An' to plunder ye like sin.
MORE POEMS BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL
|"War" is reprinted from The Early Poems Including the Biglow Papers. James Russell Lowell. New York: A.L. Burt, 1900.