'Tis midnight in the Southern sky--
See the starry cross decline!
The watching flowers, all bath'd in tears,
Creep o'er the mournful sign!
But that decline but serves to mark
A bright and glorious hour,
Whose gleaming splendors shall then crown
With stars the simplest flower!
A day that in its turn shall tell
Of the starry cross uprighted!
Then weep not--ev'ry change is well--
All wrongs shall be requited!
"STACK ARMS."