FlRfi
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 A^- 
 
 T-y 

 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD. 
 
 CHICAGO : 
 
 JANSEN, McCLURG, & COMPANY. 
 1885.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 
 
 BY JANSEN, McCujRG. & Co., 
 A.D. 1885. 
 
 R. K. POSNBLLKY A SONS, TUB LAKESIDE PBKS
 
 PS 
 
 SSSIc, 
 
 IN THE SPIRIT OF 
 
 FRATERNITY, CHARITY, AND LOYALTY, 
 
 TO WHOSE MAJESTIC MEASURES THE 
 
 VETERANS OF THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC 
 
 HAVK TIMED THEIR STEPS, 
 1 BRING THESE SIMPLE RECITALS OF FEALTY AND VALOR 
 
 IN HONOR OF THE LIVING AND IN REVERENT MEMORY OF THE DEAD, 
 
 AND LAY THEM ON THB ALTAR OF 
 
 MY COUNTRY REUNITED, REGENERATED, 
 AND AT PEACE. 
 
 764007
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MEMORIES OF THE WAR, 9 
 
 THE OLD FLAG, - 14 
 ULRIC DAHLGREN, - ... 20 
 
 FOREVER AND FOREVER, - 23 
 
 MEMORIAL DAY AT ANDERSONVILLE, 1884, - - 30 
 
 THOMAS AT CHICKAMAUGA, 34 
 
 THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC, - 40 
 
 THE MCPHERSON STATUE, - 50 
 
 SIGHTLESS SCARS, - 56 
 
 FALL IN ! - 59 
 
 THE NATION'S MEMORIAL, - 63 
 
 SONS OF VETERANS, 72 
 
 DEAD ON THE BORDER, - - 74 
 
 HAIL TO THE FLAG, 77 
 
 FOR His DEAR SAKE, - - - - - 88 
 
 THE DRUMMER BOY OF MISSION RIDGE, 90 
 THE SOLDIER'S RING, - ... 99 
 
 AYE, BRING THE FADELESS EVERGREENS, - 108 
 
 THE BOYS OF MICHIGAN, - - - 112 
 
 THE BLACK REGIMENT AT PORT HUDSON, - 116 
 
 WELCOME HOME, - 124 
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE SOLDIERS' ORPHANS' HOME, 129 
 
 CHARGE OF THE MAINE REGIMENTS, - 136 
 
 THE BOY HERO'S MOTHER, ... 139 
 (s)
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 TOAST OF THE IRISH VOLUNTEER, - - 142 
 
 THE WELCOME GRAVE, - - 145 
 COMRADESHIP, -..-.. 150 
 
 TWENTY YEARS AGO, - - 152 
 
 PART II. 
 
 PRISCILLA, AQUILA, AND PAUL, - - - 161 
 
 THE COMING OF THE MAY, - - 169 
 
 SWEET CHARITY, - - 172 
 
 MARGUERITE, . -177 
 
 O, FRIEND OF MINE, - - 179 
 
 TURN O'ER A NEW LEAF, - - - - 180 
 
 WATCHING FOR ME AT THE WINDOW, - 181 
 A NEW YEAR'S WISH, .... 183 
 
 STARRY WITNESSES, - - 184 
 
 WOOD VIOLETS, - 186 
 
 THE OLD GNARLED APPLE-TREE, - - 188 
 
 A FRIEND'S SOUVENIR, - 192 
 
 WHAT DO THE ROSES SAY? - 194 
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT, - - 195 
 
 THE FIRST CROCUS, ... - 197 
 
 MARION, - - . 199 
 
 MY NAMESAKE, - 202 
 
 FRATERNITY, CHARITY, LOYALTY, - - 204 
 
 THE POET'S WORLD, - - 206 
 HE LEADETH ME, ----- 209 
 
 AUF WlEDERSEHEN, - - - - -212
 
 PART I. 
 
 CAMP-FIRE AND MEMORIAL -DAY 
 POEMS.
 
 MEMORIES OF THE WAR. 
 
 WHENEVER I hear the fife and the drum, 
 
 And the bugle wildly play, 
 My heart is stirred like a frightened bird, 
 
 And struggles to break away ; 
 For the tramp of the Volunteers I hear, 
 
 And the Captain's sharp command : 
 "Left/ Left! Left!" He is near 
 
 And drilling his eager band. 
 
 For the women and men were at one that day, 
 
 In a purpose grand and great ; 
 But the men are away in a stormy fray, 
 
 And the women must watch and wait. 
 
 And some were as brown as the tawny South, 
 And some like the dawn were fair ; 
 
 And here was the lad with his girlish mouth, 
 And there was the beard of care. 
 
 But whether from farm or from fold they drew, 
 From the shop or the school-boy's seat,
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Each shouldered his musket and donned the blue, 
 And the time with his brogans beat. 
 
 And the mother put motherly fears to flight, 
 
 And the wife hid her tears away ; 
 For men must fight when their cause is right, 
 
 While the women in patience pray. 
 
 And now 'tis the discipline hard and sore 
 
 Of the camp and the march and the chase, 
 And now 'tis the flash and the crash and the roar, 
 
 As the battle creeps on apace. 
 O God ! it is hard when a comrade falls, 
 
 With his head at your very feet, 
 While "Forward! " the voice of your Captain calls, 
 
 And the enemy beats retreat. 
 
 And O for the mother or wife who must see, 
 When the news of the battle is known : 
 
 "Killed, Private C. of Company G," 
 While she sits in her grief like stone. 
 
 Here, the pitiless siege and the hunger that mocks ; 
 There, the hell of Resaca waits ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 And the crash of the shell on the Georgia rocks, 
 
 As you beat on Atlanta's gates. 
 There are dreams of a peace that is slow to dawn, 
 
 Of the furloughs that never come ; 
 There are tidings of grief from a letter drawn, 
 
 And the silence of lips grown dumb. 
 
 The words of your messmate you write from the crag 
 
 Where he breathed his life away : 
 " O say to my darling I died for the flag 
 
 She blessed ivhen we marched that day" 
 
 There are chevroned sleeves for some who may go, 
 
 And a captain's straps for a few, 
 And the scars of the hero that some may show 
 
 When is sounded the last tattoo ; 
 But the upturned face on the enemy's side, 
 
 With its cold and ghastly stare, 
 Is all that is left of the pomp and the pride 
 
 Of some who the conflict share. 
 
 And lo, when the enemy lifts the dead 
 And rifles his breast, I ween
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 There's a woman's face and the dainty grace 
 Of the babe he never has seen. 
 
 And O for the famine, and O for the woe, 
 
 Of the comrades in prison pens ! 
 For the hunger and thirst, and the fever slow, 
 
 And the torturing homesick sense ! 
 And O for the phantoms that walk by night 
 
 And the phantoms that walk by day ! 
 And the whirl of the brain in the hopeless fight 
 
 With the demons that gloat and prey ! 
 
 And O for the scenes that they loved so well, 
 
 That haunted their dying day, 
 For a draught from the well that will never swell, 
 
 And a breath of the new-mown hay ! 
 
 Ah well, there are few who are left, we know, 
 
 Of the many who marched away ; 
 And the children who clung to our skirts, I trow, 
 
 Are as tall and strong as they. 
 There are unmarked graves in the lonely South, 
 
 There are spectres that walk at will, 
 But the flag that you saved at the cannon's mouth 
 
 Is the flag that is over you still.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 13 
 
 The flag thro' the shot and the shell that you bore, 
 
 And wrapped in your blouses blue, 
 The flag that your swore to defend evermore, 
 
 Is the flag of the Union too.
 
 14 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 THE OLD FLAG. 
 
 BRONZED and bearded the veterans stood ; their 
 
 ranks were sparse and slim ; 
 And the Colonel standing before them felt his eyes 
 
 grow strangely dim ; 
 He thought of the muster, he thought of the march, 
 
 he thought of a darker day, 
 And he thinks he hears through the hush of years 
 
 the sharp artillery play ; 
 And he sees the flashing of burnished steel, and the 
 
 hurrying cannoneer ; 
 And he hears, while his heart leaps up again, the 
 
 long-roll sounding clear, 
 And the rub, rub, rub-a-dub dub, falls sharp on his 
 
 listening ear. 
 
 The Colonel stood with head bowed down, and his 
 
 breast heaved hard and fast, 
 As he thought of the parting and thought of the 
 
 pain and thought of the dangers past,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. IS 
 
 Of Bob, and Willie, and John, and Jim, of the 
 
 brave lads sent to death 
 With the kisses pressed by a mother's lips kept warm 
 
 to their dying breath ; 
 He thought of the pride of his men so true, as they 
 
 swept on the enemy's lines, 
 He thought of their valor, as, crouched and cold, 
 
 they fought in the pitiless pines, 
 Mid the rub, rub, rub-a-dub dub, and the flashing of 
 
 hidden mines. 
 
 The Colonel's voice is so loud and strong he could 
 
 rally a whole brigade, 
 With his charge in the face of the enemy's guns, in 
 
 the din of the cannonade ; 
 But now, as he speaks, for the smothered tears you 
 
 can scarcely his story learn, 
 He speaks so slow and he speaks so low to the hearts 
 
 that within us burn, 
 He speaks so slow and he speaks so low, for he tells 
 
 of a sore defeat, 
 With the color-guard felled like a dog to the earth 
 
 and the colors beneath his feet, 
 While the rub-a-dub dub, dub, rub-a-dub dub, is beat- 
 ing a slow retreat.
 
 16 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 As brave as a lion our color-guard stood ; but they 
 
 charged us three to one, 
 And our lines fell back in ruin and wrack from the 
 
 havoc of grape and gun 
 Fell back with a comrade's cry in their ears and a 
 
 comrade's pain in their heart, 
 And the ghastly stare of the shattered slain forever 
 
 of life a part, 
 With the rifled dead, and the riddled blue, and the 
 
 flag of their dear desire, 
 To serve as the trophies of jeer and jest around an 
 
 enemy's fire, 
 And the rub-a-dub dub, dub, rub-a-dub dub, a dirge 
 
 for their funeral pyre. 
 
 The Colonel said : " It is sad, my men, that now 
 
 that the war is done, 
 And we come to talk of the troubles past, and the 
 
 dawn of a gladder sun, 
 That still in the van of our broken ranks the old 
 
 flag may not go, 
 It lies, with the pride of our regiment, at the feet 
 
 of a mocking foe ; 
 We may boast our triumphs, and count our scars, 
 
 and dream of a great reward,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 But the flag that has led us through thick and thin 
 
 is down with the color-guard, 
 Where no rub-a-dub dub, dub, rub-a-dub dub, may 
 
 sweep o'er the peaceful sward." 
 
 Then over the bronzed and bearded men a tremor 
 
 of gladness swept, 
 As one by one they drew from their breasts a 
 
 trophy that each had kept ; 
 And one, with a trembling in his voice, that was 
 
 more of joy than tears, 
 Stood up to speak for the battle-scarred ranks of 
 
 the veteran volunteers, 
 And they marked him well as a valiant man in the 
 
 march or the fiercest fight, 
 Who never had swerved when the call was close, to 
 
 the left, or yet to the right, 
 While the rub, rub, rub-a-dub dub, was calling for 
 
 men of might. 
 
 And he said, " My Colonel, 'twas I stood by when 
 our color-guard fell that day, 
 
 And under the stress of unequal strength our regi- 
 ment melted away,
 
 l8 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 And I tore, ere I went, the tattered rags that clung 
 
 to the staff of oak, 
 That has led us to victory time on time through 
 
 the cloud and the fire and the smoke, 
 And I folded them close to my heart, just here ; for 
 
 I could not then forget 
 If the boys could but look on their colors snatched 
 
 from the hell of that parapet, 
 That the rub-a-dub dub, dub, rub-a-dub dub, would 
 
 lead them to victory yet." 
 
 They gathered around their Colonel so dear ; and 
 
 each had a tattered shred 
 Of the flag that had cheered on the living, that had 
 
 rallied their comrades dead ; 
 And they stitched with the fragments of glory the 
 
 thoughts of a holier day 
 Of the gallant and true whose red rich blood still 
 
 mottled it where it lay ; 
 And up from a staff, new-carven, they raised the 
 
 sacred thing, 
 And wildly and yet more wildly the cheers of the 
 
 veterans ring, 
 While rub-a-dub dub, dub, rub-a-dub dub, exultant 
 
 the tidings wing.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 19 
 
 O flag of our fathers ! O flag of our sons ! O flag 
 of a world's desire ! 
 
 Through the night and the light, through the fright 
 and the fight, through the smoke and the cloud 
 and the fire, 
 
 There are arms to defend, there are hearts to be- 
 friend, there are souls to bear up from the pall, 
 
 While thy cluster of stars broodeth over the wars, 
 that justice and mercy befall ! 
 
 There are breasts that will clasp it when tattered 
 and torn, there are prayers to brood like a dove, 
 
 There are fingers to fashion it fold unto fold, and 
 hands that will wave it above, 
 
 While the mb-a-dub dub, dub, rub-a-dub dub, is beat- 
 ing the marches of Love !
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 ULRIC DAHLGREN. 
 
 A FLASH of light across the night, 
 
 An eager face, an eye afire ! 
 O lad so true, you may yet rue 
 
 The courage of your deep desire ! 
 
 "Nay, tempt me not; the way is plain 
 'Tis but the coward checks his rein ; 
 
 For there they lie 
 
 And there they cry 
 For whose dear sake 'twere joy to die ! " 
 
 He bends unto his saddle bow, 
 The steeds they follow two and two ; 
 
 Their flanks are wet with foam and sweat, 
 Their riders' locks are damp with dew. 
 
 " O comrades, haste ! the way is long, 
 The dirge it drowns the battle song ; 
 
 The hunger preys, 
 
 The famine slays, 
 An awful horror veils our ways ! "
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Beneath the pall of prison wall 
 The rush of hoofs they seem to hear ; 
 
 From loathsome guise they lift their eyes, 
 And beat their bars and bend their ear. 
 
 "Ah, God be thanked! our friends are nigh 
 He wills it not that thus we die ; 
 
 O fiends accurst 
 
 Of Want and Thirst, 
 Our comrades gather, do your worst ! " 
 
 A sharp affright runs through the night, 
 An ambush stirred, a column reined ; 
 
 The hurrying steed has checked his speed, 
 His smoking flanks are crimson stained. 
 
 O noble son of noble sire, 
 
 Thine ears are deaf to our desire ! 
 
 O knightly grace 
 
 Of valiant race, 
 Thy grave is honor's trysting-place ! 
 
 O life so pure ! O faith so sure ! 
 
 O heart so brave, and true, and strong ! 
 With tips of flame is writ your name, 
 
 In annaled deed and storied song !
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 It flares across the solemn night, 
 It glitters in the radiant light ; 
 
 A jewel set, 
 
 Unnumbered yet, 
 In our Republic's coronet !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 23 
 
 FOREVER AND FOREVER. 
 
 WHEN men forsook their shops and homes, and 
 
 stood with troubled faces 
 From morn till night, from night till morn, in dusty 
 
 market spaces ; 
 When women watched beside their babes in anguish 
 
 half resisted, 
 Until the husky message came : " God keep you, 
 
 I've enlisted ! " 
 When all day long the drums were rolled in hateful 
 
 exultation, 
 And fife and bugle stung with pain the pulses of the 
 
 Nation ; 
 When woman's hand formed every star that flashed 
 
 on field of glory, 
 And woman's tears were stitched along each stripe 
 
 in jeweled story, 
 
 What said we then ? " Go forth, brave hearts ! Go 
 
 where the bullets rattle ! 
 For us to plan, for us to pray, for you to toil and 
 
 battle !
 
 24 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY. 
 
 Ours to uphold, yours to defend, the compact none 
 
 can sever ; 
 And sacred be your name and fame, forever and 
 
 forever ! " 
 
 When charge and trench gave up their dead, and 
 
 loathsome Southern prison ; 
 When on the march the hidden shot took aim with 
 
 swift precision ; 
 When every whitewashed ward put out the light of 
 
 some lone dwelling, 
 And every lumbering ambulance some dying plaint 
 
 was telling ; 
 When fathers took their papers up with sense of 
 
 evil presage, 
 And mothers tore with stifling sobs the wrap of 
 
 some swift message ; 
 When prone the people lay before their God with 
 
 sins uncovered, 
 
 And with overshadowing awfulness the black- 
 winged angel hovered, 
 
 What said we then ? " Stand firm, brave hearts ! 
 stand where the bullets, crashing,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 25 
 
 Cut down your comrades as the sheaves go down before 
 the threshing ! 
 
 A Nation pleads with lifted hands, ' Give up the 
 Union, never ! ' 
 
 And yours the glory that abides, forever and for- 
 ever ! " 
 
 When bronzed and scarred and tattered sore, the 
 ranks of dusty blue 
 
 Came up from Appomattox with their banners rid- 
 dled through, 
 
 An hundred for a thousand, and by tens where 
 fifties went, 
 
 With their armless sleeves and crutches showing 
 where the balls were spent ; 
 
 When they stacked their trusty rifles and their knap- 
 sacks flung aside, 
 
 And made known their comrades' messages to loved 
 ones ere they died, 
 
 When the Nation breathed more freely than for ten 
 long years before, 
 
 Though crape hung, freshly knotted, upon many a 
 muffled door,
 
 26 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 What said we then ? " O tried and true who live to 
 
 rise and rally, 
 O tried and true who sleep so well by storied stream 
 
 and valley ! 
 We bind this debt upon our hearts, which time cannot 
 
 dissever, 
 To guard your name and shield your fame, forever 
 
 and forever ! " 
 
 When fort and rifle-pit are brought unto a common 
 
 level, 
 And where the soldier's blood ran red, the long 
 
 wild -grasses revel ; 
 When year by year the ranks go down that thrilled 
 
 to deeds of glory, 
 And year by year the ear grows cold to patriotic 
 
 story ; 
 When men forget, in stocks and trade and fevered 
 
 speculation, 
 That any smote and any saved the honor of the 
 
 Nation ; 
 When policy would blot the names of hero and of 
 
 battle, 
 And swear we never saw a foe or heard a musket 
 
 rattle,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 27 
 
 What say we now ? " O comrade hearts that still 
 are strongly bounding, 
 
 And comrade hearts that wake no more to catch the 
 bugle's sounding; 
 
 As when you fought, as when you fell, your mem- 
 ory gladdens ever; 
 
 Our faith is wedded to your fame, forever and for- 
 ever ! " 
 
 No more the cartridge answers in the rifle true and 
 
 trusty, 
 And the good sword lies neglected in its scabbard 
 
 dim and rusty ; 
 The blue and gray no longer are the colors of 
 
 division, 
 And " Yank " and " Reb " are heard no more the 
 
 nicknames of derision ; 
 The malice of the combat is, thank God, no longer 
 
 cherished, 
 The vengeance that relents not in the breasts of all 
 
 has perished, 
 And an infinite compassion in each loyal heart is 
 
 swelling 
 
 For the vanquished in the shadows of each deso- 
 lated dwelling,
 
 28 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 Yet say we now, as in the days of our humilia- 
 tion, 
 
 As in the days when triumph crowned the armies 
 of the Nation : 
 
 ''The men who fought, the men who fell, the old flag 
 none can sever, 
 
 Shall all be shrined in loyal hearts, forever and for- 
 ever ! " 
 
 O shadow-armies, bending where the roses shed 
 
 to-day 
 Their gentle fragrance typical of all our hearts 
 
 would say, 
 From the spires of the Atlantic to the Golden Gate 
 
 sublime 
 Where Thomas waits his old reserves who're serving 
 
 out their time ! 
 O shadow-armies, bending where the drooping lilies 
 
 weep, 
 With the watchers broken-hearted who slumber not 
 
 nor sleep ! 
 O shadow-armies, bending from the summits of the 
 
 stars, 
 Bearing up the flying pennons of the dear old 
 
 Stripes and Stars,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 29 
 
 Bear witness that we keep to-day the vows that we 
 
 have spoken, 
 In our iliads, in our anthems, in our prayers weak 
 
 and broken ; 
 
 In our statues proudly rising, in the statutes none 
 
 can sever, 
 From the records of a Union, sealed forever and 
 
 forever !
 
 30 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 MEMORIAL DAY AT ANDERSONVILLE, 
 1884. 
 
 O COMRADES, on each lonely grave we place one 
 
 flower to-day, 
 More sweet than any that shall bloom upon the 
 
 heart of May ; 
 More flush in blue and crimson, with starry splendor 
 
 crowned, 
 Because the thunders raged above, the darkness 
 
 hemmed around ; 
 The flower that our fathers saw, an hundred years 
 
 before, 
 
 A tiny tendril springing by the lonely cabin door ; 
 'Twas sown in fears, 'twas wet with tears, till, lo, it 
 
 burst in view, 
 The symbol of a Nation's hopes the Red, the 
 
 White, the Blue. 
 
 Ah, not in anger, not in strife, we come with laden 
 
 hands ; 
 The crimson retinues of War are off in other lands ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 31 
 
 We bring the blossoms we have nursed to shed 
 
 their honeyed breath 
 Where erst the reeling ranks of wrath unbarred the 
 
 gates of death ; 
 We lift the dear dead faces of our heroes to the 
 
 light, 
 We raise the pallid hands of theirs, we clasp and 
 
 hold them tight ; 
 We say : O brothers, rise and see the Peace you 
 
 helped to woo, 
 Whose snowy pinions hover o'er the Red, the 
 
 White, the Blue. 
 
 Not yours, O silent comrades, the ecstacy of strife, 
 The haughty exaltation that rounds the hero's life ; 
 Not yours the flash of sabers, the shouts of the 
 
 advance, 
 The gleam of thrusting bayonets that shiver as they 
 
 glance; 
 
 Not yours upon the parapet your banner to unfurl, 
 To die with victory on your lips, as back your feet 
 
 they hurl ; 
 The whisper of a kindling hope, while gaily over 
 
 you
 
 32 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 The silken folds are dancing out the Red, the 
 White, the Blue. 
 
 Nay, to your homesick vision the mask of Death 
 
 was up, 
 His icy breath was round you, his draught was in 
 
 the cup ; 
 A terror walks at noonday ; the dreams that throng 
 
 the night 
 But take the wings of morning and vanish ere the 
 
 light. 
 But oh, our fallen heroes, one gleam of heaven 
 
 shines 
 
 Upon the ghastly phalanxes, along the ragged lines, 
 And eyes grown dim with watching are lit with 
 
 courage new, 
 They've heard the tramp of comrades, with the 
 
 Red, the White, the Blue. 
 
 O comrades of the prison, ye have not died in 
 
 vain, 
 For lo, the march of harvests where War has trod 
 
 the plain ! 
 And lo, the breath of lilies and of rose beyond 
 
 compare,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 33 
 
 And the sound of children chanting where the 
 
 cannon rent the air ! 
 We clasp our hands above you with tearful hearts 
 
 to-day, 
 Vour brothers who have worn the blue, your 
 
 brothers of the gray ; 
 
 Our hearts are one forever, whatever men may do, 
 And over all the glory of the Red, the White, the 
 
 Blue. 
 
 Ah, not in strife nor anger nor idle grief we come, 
 
 With thrill and throb of bugle, with clamor of the 
 drum ; 
 
 We've heard the wings of healing above the war's 
 surcease, 
 
 And lo, the Great Commander has set the watch- 
 word, " Peace ! " 
 
 Peace to the free-born millions who live to do and 
 dare, 
 
 Peace in each brave endeavor, in whatever lot they 
 share ! 
 
 Above, the triune colors, so dear to me and you, 
 
 The splendid flower that Freedom guards the 
 Red, the White, the Blue. 
 3
 
 34 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 THOMAS AT CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 IT was that fierce contested field when Chicka- 
 
 mauga lay 
 Beneath the wild tornado that swept her pride 
 
 away ; 
 Her dimpling dales and circling hills dyed crimson 
 
 with the flood 
 That had its sources in the springs that throb with 
 
 human blood. 
 
 " Go say to General Harker to reinforce his right ! " 
 Said Thomas to his aide-de-camp, when wildly went 
 
 the fight ; 
 In front the battle thundered, it roared both right 
 
 and left, 
 But like a rock " Pap " Thomas stood upon the 
 
 crested cleft. 
 
 " Where will I find you, General, when I return ? " 
 
 The aide 
 Leaned on his bridle-rein to wait the answer 
 
 Thomas made ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 35 
 
 The old chief like a lion turned, his pale lips set 
 
 and sere, 
 And shook his mane, and stamped his foot, and 
 
 fiercely answered, " Here ! " 
 
 The floodtide of fraternal strife rolled upward to his 
 
 feet, 
 And like the breakers on the shore the thunderous 
 
 clamors beat ; 
 The sad earth rocked and reeled with woe, the 
 
 woodland shrieked in pain, 
 And hill and vale were groaning with the burden of 
 
 the slain. 
 
 Who does not mind that sturdy form, that steady 
 
 heart and hand, 
 That calm repose and gallant mien, that courage 
 
 high and grand? 
 O God, who givest nations men to meet their lofty 
 
 needs, 
 Vouchsafe another Thomas when our country 
 
 prostrate bleeds ! 
 
 They fought with all the fortitude of earnest men 
 and true
 
 36 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 The men who wore the rebel gray, the men who 
 
 wore the blue ; 
 And those, they fought most valiantly for petty 
 
 state and clan, 
 And these, for truer Union and the brotherhood of 
 
 man. 
 
 They come, those hurling legions, with banners 
 
 crimson splashed, 
 Against our stubborn columns their rushing ranks 
 
 are dashed, 
 Till 'neath the blistering iron hail the shy and 
 
 frightened deer 
 Go scurrying from their forest haunts to plunge in 
 
 wilder fear. 
 
 Beyond, our lines are broken; and now in frenzied 
 
 rout 
 The flower of the Cumberland has swiftly faced 
 
 about ; 
 And horse and foot and color-guard are reeling 
 
 rear and van, 
 And in the awful panic man forgets that he is 
 
 man.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 37 
 
 Now Bragg, with pride exultant above our broken 
 wings, 
 
 The might of all his army against " Pap " Thomas 
 brings ; 
 
 They're massing to the right of him, they're mass- 
 ing to the left, 
 
 Ah, God be with our hero, who holds the crested 
 cleft ! 
 
 Blow, blow, ye echoing bugles ! give answer, 
 screaming shell ! 
 
 Go, belch your murderous fury, ye batteries of hell ! 
 
 Ring out, O impious musket ! spin on, O shat- 
 tering shot, 
 
 Our smoke encircled hero, he hears but heeds ye 
 not ! 
 
 Now steady, men ! now steady ! make one more 
 
 valiant stand, 
 For gallant Steedman's coming, his forces well in 
 
 hand ! 
 Close up your shattered columns, take steady aim 
 
 and true, 
 The chief who loves you as his life will live or die 
 
 with you !
 
 38 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 By solid columns, on they come ; by columns they 
 
 are hurled, 
 As down the eddying rapids the storm-swept booms 
 
 are whirled ; 
 And when the ammunition fails O moment drear 
 
 and dread 
 The heroes load their blackened guns from 
 
 rounds of soldiers dead. 
 
 God never set his signet on the hearts of braver 
 
 men, 
 Or fixed the goal of victory on higher heights than 
 
 then; 
 With bayonets and muskets clubbed, they close the 
 
 rush and roar ; 
 Their stepping-stones to glory are their comrades 
 
 gone before. 
 
 O vanished majesty of days not all forgotten yet, 
 We consecrate unto thy praise one hour of deep 
 
 regret ; 
 One hour to them whose days were years of glory 
 
 that shall flood 
 The Nation's sombre night of tears, of carnage,and 
 
 of blood ! 

 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 39 
 
 O vanished majesty of days, when men were 
 
 gauged by worth, 
 Set crowned and dowered in the way to judge the 
 
 sons of earth ; 
 When all the little great fell down before the great 
 
 unknown, 
 And priest put off the hampering gown and coward 
 
 donned his own ! 
 
 O vanished majesty of days that saw the sun 
 
 shine on 
 The deeds that wake sublimer praise than Ghent 
 
 or Marathon ; 
 When patriots in homespun rose where one was 
 
 called for, ten 
 And heroes sprang full-armored from the humblest 
 
 walks of men ! 
 
 O vanished majesty of days ! Rise, type and mould 
 
 to-day, 
 And teach our sons to follow on where duty leads 
 
 the way ; 
 That whatsoever trial comes, defying doubt and 
 
 fear, 
 They in the thickest fight shall stand and proudly 
 
 answer " Here ! "
 
 4 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL. DAY, 
 
 THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC. 
 
 MESEEMED a vision filled the night, of strong men 
 
 mustering, 
 And two by two in solemn pride they strode with 
 
 sturdy swing; 
 I stood upon the battlements and saw them man 
 
 the guns, 
 And fling the halyards to the breeze where mad 
 
 mid-ocean runs; 
 To right of me, to left of me, they rallied, man and 
 
 man, 
 Until, meseemed, the plains were groves, the groves 
 
 like rivers ran; 
 I heard the scream of bugles and the throbbing of 
 
 the drums, 
 As the murmur of the thunders that portend the 
 
 storm that comes. 
 
 My pulses stung and trembled, my blood was all afire, 
 To see the sons go stalking forth, to battle, with 
 
 their sire;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 41 
 
 " God keep my first-born darling" the mother knelt 
 
 to pray, 
 And so our great Grand Army was mustered in 
 
 that day. 
 
 Up springs the stalwart Lincoln God grant his 
 
 spirit 's near ! 
 And as he calls the roll of States, they rise and 
 
 answer: " Here ! " 
 
 Maine shouts to Minnesota, Vermont to Oregon: 
 " Who hails the sword of Bunker Hill, rise up and 
 
 put it on ! " 
 The flame has lit the forges, the engines pant and 
 
 fret, 
 
 And lo! upon the hilltops the signal fires are set: 
 The shade of Ethan Allen is up and marching now, 
 And Henry fires the forum, and Putnam leaves the 
 
 plow. 
 
 Who stems the tide of battle, he does it at his cost, 
 Who stays a hand where Freedom leads, he is 
 
 forever lost; 
 The list of heroes lengthens, a splendor gilds the 
 
 scroll, 
 And so our great Grand Army made up its battle 
 
 roll.
 
 42 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 Oh, there was brave maneuver in sight of foe and 
 
 friend, 
 And toss of plume and feather, and marching 
 
 without end; 
 And there were banners waving, and there were 
 
 songs and cheers, 
 And for the patriot praises, and for the coward 
 
 jeers; 
 And here the splendid Infantry accoutered bright 
 
 and blue, 
 And there the gleaming trappings of Cavalry in 
 
 view; 
 
 And flash of scarlet gunners and riders in the line, 
 With gorgeous spreading epaulettes and sashes red 
 
 as wine; 
 And lo, the long processions of maidens drawing 
 
 nigh, 
 
 With kisses and with flowers, to say a last good- 
 bye; 
 
 And lo, the wives a-lifting their babies to the sun, 
 And so our great Grand Army beheld its work 
 
 begun. 
 
 I turned me to the Southland, and War swept 
 into view,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 43 
 
 With Famine and with Fever a-riding one and two; 
 And there was clash and clamor and marshaling 
 
 for the fray, 
 And in the shock of battle, they met, the Blue and 
 
 Gray; 
 'Tis brother met with brother, 'tis match of man 
 
 and man, 
 The jousts of peers and princes upon a mightier 
 
 plan; 
 
 The red, red tide of battle is sweeping on its way, 
 With hope and heart and fortune, forever and a 
 
 day. 
 But not in knightly crusade or quest of Holy 
 
 Grail 
 
 Were purer hands uplifted, did holier vows pre- 
 vail ; 
 Nor e'en to good Sir Galahad were saintlier visions 
 
 sent, 
 Than in our great Grand Army to dying eyes were 
 
 lent. 
 
 Play up, O fife and bugle! play up, sonorous drum! 
 The legions of disunion, they tremble as ye come ! 
 Play up the blue Potomac .' play up along the 
 James !
 
 44 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Where patriot cheers are swelling, where rebel 
 
 laughter shames ! 
 Play up the slopes of Lookout! play up both loud 
 
 and fast, 
 For Farragut's at Mobile, and lashed unto the 
 
 mast ! 
 Play up for Appomattox, and let your tunes be 
 
 gay, 
 
 For underneath the apple-tree the Blue has met 
 
 the Gray ! 
 Play up the flag of Freedom ! play up the Stripes 
 
 and Stars ! 
 Play down the rag of Treason ! play down the Stars 
 
 and Bars ! 
 Play up the " March through Georgia," night can 
 
 not always last ! 
 Play up our great Grand Army ! God speed it, 
 
 first and last ! 
 
 With faded coat and feather, the thin battalions 
 
 come, 
 And here the drooping banner, and there the 
 
 muffled drum ; 
 The gleam of splendid trappings may nevermore 
 
 be told,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 45 
 
 The scarlet and the crimson, the glitter and the 
 
 gold. 
 Within the awful prisons the ragged ranks are 
 
 mute, 
 With never a dirge lamenting and never a last 
 
 salute ; 
 
 And many a brave battalion goes down forever- 
 more, 
 Since War has supped with Fever while Famine 
 
 kept the door. 
 
 And lo, beyond the prison, beyond the faded lines, 
 The sad and slow processions go sadly 'mong the 
 
 pines : 
 The maidens and the mothers a-searching for the 
 
 slain, 
 Who with our great Grand Army will never come 
 
 again. 
 
 Unite your ranks, O comrades ! consolidate bri- 
 gades ! 
 
 Call in vidette and picket ! suspend your dashing 
 raids ! 
 
 Take home your captured cannon and mould them 
 into stars,
 
 46 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 To deck the breasts of veterans returning from the 
 
 wars ! 
 Swing out the tattered banners, though riddled 
 
 through and through ; 
 With elbow touching elbow begin your Grand 
 
 Review ; 
 Was ever seen such marching, say, comrades, 
 
 'neath the sun, 
 
 As army meeting army you made at Washington ? 
 The hilltops are exultant ! the streets with joy are 
 
 wild, 
 And the veteran's heart is thrilled with thoughts of 
 
 home and wife and child ; 
 Cheers meeting cheers resounding make up a sea 
 
 of sound, 
 That lauds our great Grand Army wherever fame 
 
 is found ! 
 
 Play up ! play up, ye bugles ! play up, both fife 
 
 and drum ! 
 But not from wars returning to-day our comrades 
 
 come ! 
 
 Maine calls to Minnesota, Vermont to Oregon : 
 " Who hails the sword of Bunker Hill, rise up and 
 
 journey on!"
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 47 
 
 The picket-guards of Freedom are on the outward 
 
 line, 
 And on the heights of victory their banners we 
 
 define ; 
 They wage a grander warfare than any has been 
 
 told, 
 And prairie yields her treasure and mountain gives 
 
 her gold. 
 Play up, play up the music to which our comrades 
 
 fell, 
 The tunes that in a hundred fights they loved both 
 
 long and well ! 
 Play up, where freemen gather ! wherever man 
 
 meets man, 
 'Tis there our great Grand Army is ever in the 
 
 van ! 
 
 Play up, O fife and bugle ! play up, sonorous 
 drum ! 
 
 Play up the hosts of Freedom rejoicing as they 
 come ! 
 
 Play up the war-worn soldiers, wherever they may 
 stand ! 
 
 Play up the old Potomac; play up the Cumber- 
 land !
 
 48 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 The veterans are coming, be still my heart and 
 
 hear, 
 
 It is the glad hosanna, it is the Union cheer ! 
 Heaven speed the fight they're making ! Heaven 
 
 give to each his due, 
 Who bore the brunt of battle to keep the Union 
 
 true ! 
 Play up, while lo, before them we lay our brightest 
 
 flowers, 
 While mirth and song and laughter beguile the 
 
 golden hours ! 
 From Maine to Minnesota, play up our comrades 
 
 true, 
 Who in our great Grand Army have worn the 
 
 Union blue. 
 
 Play up the march of Empire ! play up the march 
 
 of Love ! 
 The mighty West before us ! the Stars and Stripes 
 
 above ! 
 
 Play up the South returning ! play up the reveille ; 
 Play up for truer Union ! play up for States to be ! 
 Play up the struggling nations whose eyes have 
 
 hailed the morn
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 49 
 
 That glows above the cradle where Liberty was 
 
 born ! 
 Play up the toiling millions, whose race is but 
 
 begun ; 
 
 Play up, play up for Lincoln ! Play up for Washing- 
 ton ! 
 Play up the Union rally ! play up both loud and 
 
 shrill : 
 One heart, one hope, one faith, one flag, shall be our 
 
 slogan still ! 
 Play up the " March through Georgia," your 
 
 merriest music play ! 
 Play up our great Grand Army forever and for 
 
 aye!
 
 50 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 THE McPHERSON STATUE. 
 [Unveiled at Clyde, O., July 22, /</.] 
 
 O FRIENDS, why gather you here to-day in the flush 
 
 of the golden weather, 
 With your arms reversed and your colors furled, and 
 
 your heads bowed low together ? 
 There are cheers for the victor, and flowers for the 
 
 bride, and songs for the happy- hearted, 
 And a prayer for the soul that is groping alone in 
 
 the shadows that time has started ; 
 There's a kiss for the child, and a ring for the bride, 
 
 and a rose for the happy lover, 
 There are smiles for the guest, and a rosy nest that 
 
 the last-born babe may cover ; 
 There's a laugh for the feast, and a gift for the 
 
 priest ; there are vows for the holy altar ; 
 But what has the valley of death for him in whose 
 
 praises our voices falter ? 
 
 "O Jamie McPherson, Jamie McPherson ! " The 
 cry is the cry of a mother ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 5 1 
 
 But the little lad goes, and the little lad comes no 
 
 more beside sister or brother ; 
 The little lad goes, and the cherished chief comes 
 
 a prince in his pride and his valor ; 
 And the hero-heart thrills as it fills with his fame, 
 
 and the craven is ashen with pallor. 
 ' ' O Jamie Me P her son, Jamie Me P her son /" The 
 
 cry is the cry of a Nation, 
 For the prince in his pride lieth low in the trail and 
 
 the trampling of sore tribulation. 
 The brave heart is dust and the bright sword is rust, 
 
 and under the sod he is lying, 
 Whose heart was a babe's in the lovelight of peace, 
 
 and a lion's when bullets were flying. 
 
 As over the grave of her first-born son the mother 
 
 in infinite yearning 
 Remembers each kiss and each touch of the hand 
 
 from the gloom of the shadows returning, 
 Recalls all the grace of the best-beloved face as she 
 
 scatters the lilies and roses, 
 While a tear on each stem like a diadem the wealth 
 
 of devotion discloses, 
 So over the grave of her hero to-day the Nation in 
 
 sorrow is bending,
 
 52 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 The rose of regret and the roses of love with the 
 
 lilies of memory blending ; 
 The grace of the lily, the pride of the rose, that 
 
 sweet in the heart are a-blowing, 
 Where the soil is a prayer, and the dew is a tear, and 
 
 a-sorrow the hand that is sowing. 
 
 Before this mute image of soldierly pride, ye com- 
 rades who loved him, uncover ! 
 No lordlier man than it symbols e'er rode with the 
 
 ranks of the knight or the lover ; 
 No statelier form wore the blue and the gold, and 
 
 the shimmer of stars on hie shoulder, 
 With a steadier mien and a steadier heart and a step 
 
 that was truer and bolder. 
 No voice with a call that was clearer rang out where 
 
 the columns were forming, 
 No chief with an eye that was keener swept on 
 
 where the battle was storming 
 Sped the charge of the lines, scaled the crest of the 
 
 pines, bore down to the carnage the faster, 
 Lay calmly to rest with face to the foe in the gloom 
 
 of a direr disaster.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 53 
 
 Before this mute image of greatness, dear sons of 
 
 the commonwealth, tarry ! 
 For here were the virtues that nations extol, the 
 
 graces that princes should carry ; 
 The courage to toil, and the life without soil, the 
 
 filial faith, and the largess 
 Of spirit that follows where Fealty leads the fire of 
 
 her furious charges ; 
 The hero to place and the hero to plan in the whirl 
 
 of the maddening clamor, 
 Where the bravest turn pale and the boldest are 
 
 dumb and the lips of the eloquent stammer. 
 Aye, tarry and study ! the models are few, and the 
 
 men of his mould are fast falling ; 
 Bow down in the dust when ye list to their names, 
 
 their mighty achievements recalling. 
 
 Dear land of our love, dear land of our hopes ! till 
 
 the pride of the patriot perish, 
 The deeds they have wrought, and the fame they 
 
 have won, in the heart of our hearts we will 
 
 cherish. 
 The valleys we till and the mountains we scale that 
 
 girdle the zone of the Nation
 
 54 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 Are greater and grander because they ran red with 
 
 the wine of their soul's consecration ; 
 And the hopes of the brave, and the loves of the 
 
 true, and the aim of each earnest endeavor, 
 In the sun of their greatness shall ripen and yield in 
 
 the cycles of memory ever : 
 In the purpose to dare and the courage to bear, in 
 
 the glory of high aspiration, 
 In the clasp of a hand and the flight of a prayer, in 
 
 the beauty of pure adoration. 
 
 O Jamie McPherson ! Jamie McPherson ! when men 
 
 of thy model He giveth, 
 Eye looks unto eye, and heart calls unto heart, 
 
 " Though darkness be over, God liveth" 
 So the weak are made bold and the strong are held 
 
 true, and a Voice stays the storm's awful 
 
 power, 
 And the smiles of a Love that embraces the world 
 
 fall down in a scintillant shower. 
 O Jamie McPherson ! Jamie McPherson ! As they 
 
 mingle their praises who love thee, 
 Ohio, thy fond mother, blesses to-day the honors 
 
 she gathers above thee :
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 55 
 
 Thou, flower and fruit of her motherhood's dream, 
 brave son of her prophesied glory, 
 
 Immortal in name and undying in fame, and match- 
 less in epic and story ! 
 
 Let the marble and bronze tell the deeds of thy fame, 
 
 and the lily and rose how we love thee, 
 While the grasses grow greener that over thee wave, 
 
 and the breezes blow blither above thee ; 
 For the seasons may come, and the seasons may go, 
 
 and the lilies and roses may cover, 
 But no statelier chief or no faithfuler friend shall 
 
 ride down with the knight and the lover ! 
 In the sleet and the snow, in the sun and the shine 
 
 in the days of a far generation, 
 Brave soldier ! keep guard, for thy type it is true, 
 
 and thy shrine shareth love's adoration ! 
 Keep watch and keep ward, while our sons shall 
 
 keep guard o'er the banner that shadowed thee 
 
 dying ! 
 Keep watch and keep ward, while the Stripes and 
 
 the Stars in the vanguard of nations is flying !
 
 56 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 SIGHTLESS SCARS. 
 
 HE bears no wounds on each shapely limb, 
 
 No scar on his sun- browned cheek, 
 The crash of the bullets have left to him 
 
 No tremor of nerves grown weak ; 
 And yet he has lost, O God, how much, 
 
 Of all that is dear to a man ! 
 The strength to say " No " to the tempter's touch, 
 
 And the will to arise from his ban. 
 
 " He fought for the flag ? " Aye, fought with his 
 might, 
 
 Though a boy with a beardless face, 
 And his breath was aflame as he sprang to the fight, 
 
 Though his lips wore a nameless grace. 
 Who saw him are sure he would freely have given 
 
 His life for his country's weal ; 
 He sprang to the breach when the line was riven, 
 
 As if with his body to heal.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 57 
 
 None ever beheld his back to the foe, 
 
 None heard a complaint or a sigh ; 
 He was glad he could march with the serried row, 
 
 He was glad he could dare to die ; 
 But the heat and the cold, and the hunger and 
 
 thirst, 
 
 They warred with the shot and shell, 
 And the lad found a balm in the cup accursed 
 For the woes of a wilder hell. 
 
 Friend, give him a hand ; he has given for you 
 
 The whole that a man can give 
 Who yet must toil and yet must do 
 
 What little he may to live ; 
 He laid his hopes of a lifetime down 
 
 When he donned the sword that day, 
 And put off the student's cap and gown 
 
 To follow the troops away. 
 
 You stood heaping gold in the market-place ; 
 
 He scaled to the peaks of war ; 
 Now pause as you look in his war-worn face, 
 
 And say whose the honors are !
 
 58 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 And give him a hand as he gropes alone 
 A hand that is warm and true 
 
 As God who sits on His judgment throne 
 Shall judge betwixt him and you.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 59 
 
 FALL IN. 
 
 FALL in, fall in, old soldiers ! 
 
 The reveille is heard, 
 And bivouac and picket 
 
 Are at the summons stirred ; 
 Fall in, that you may answer 
 
 The roll-call sounding clear, 
 And when the Sergeant calls your name 
 
 Prepare to answer " Here ! " 
 
 Fall in, fall in, old soldiers, 
 
 And rub your sleepy eyes ; 
 The mists of time are heavy 
 
 Around you. as you rise ; 
 The friendships on the musket sworn 
 
 Grow rusty as its lock ; 
 Fall in once more, touch elbows, 
 
 As in the battle's shock. 
 
 Fall in, fall in, old soldiers, 
 By whatever name you bear,
 
 60 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 If you've made the march through Georgia, 
 If at Richmond you were there ; 
 
 If on Lookout's lofty tablets 
 
 You've writ your names in blood, 
 
 If you've stemmed the hosts at Franklin, 
 Pouring onward like a flood. 
 
 Fall in, fall in, old soldiers, 
 
 You who recall the day 
 At Corinth on the battlefield 
 
 The dead around you lay, 
 When Rosecrans rode down the lines 
 
 To Fuller's old brigade : 
 " / take my hat off in the face 
 
 Of men like these" he said. 
 
 Fall in, fall in, old soldiers, 
 
 You who from Red House Bridge 
 Moved on to Chickamauga 
 
 When Thomas held the ridge ; 
 Moved on with gallant Steedman 
 
 That day he broke away 
 Like a lion from his covert 
 
 When he heard the battle bray.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 61 
 
 Fall in, fall in, old soldiers ; 
 
 Perchance you followed well 
 At Kenesaw with Harker 
 
 And caught him when he fell ; 
 Perchance you joined the wild mad cry 
 
 That through the army ran : 
 Me P her son and revenge ! " then smote 
 
 The foemen rear and van. 
 
 Fall in, fall in, old soldiers ; 
 
 A glory crowns you still, 
 For marches under Sherman, 
 
 For raids with " Little Phil." 
 Though you swore by Grant or Thomas, 
 
 Or by Custer early dead, 
 There are roses for each bosom, 
 
 There are laurels for each head. 
 
 Fall in, fall in, old soldiers ; 
 
 Each day the ranks grow small, 
 Each day a voice grows silent 
 
 Heard at the last roll-call ; 
 A comrade's voice makes answer 
 
 Where was heard a manly shout :
 
 62 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL. DAY, 
 
 " Disabled in the service, 
 
 And awaits his muster-out!" 
 
 Fall in, fall in, old soldiers ; 
 
 A few more flying years, 
 And roses will be blooming 
 
 Above your lowly biers ; 
 The roses and the ivy 
 
 And the lonely myrtle climb 
 Above the sleeping millions 
 
 Plumed and knighted in their time. 
 
 Fall in, fall in, old soldiers, 
 
 And fight your battles o'er, 
 Until above the last low bier 
 
 The wings of Freedom soar , 
 Stand hand to hand and heart to heart, 
 
 In Fame's eternal care, 
 Until the great Reunion 
 
 Unites you over there.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 63 
 
 THE NATION'S MEMORIAL. 
 
 THE lowing cattle leave their stalls, the lambs bleat 
 
 in the wold ; 
 The poplars don their tasseled caps with tips of 
 
 burnished gold ; 
 The children in the streets are glad, and speed the 
 
 hoop and ball, 
 Ne'er dreaming that a fear or foe could ever on 
 
 them fall. 
 
 The hum of busy wheels is heard, the click of loom 
 and press ; 
 
 The clearing axe resounds along the opening wil- 
 derness ; 
 
 The air is filled with screaming birds that go from 
 gulf to lake ; 
 
 And Spring in all the Northern vales is calling : 
 " Rise ! Awake ! " 
 
 The mother sits beside her son and marks his eager 
 joy
 
 64 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 In reading how from Ghent to Aix rode the brave 
 Flemish boy ; 
 
 How one by one the Old Guard fell, pierced through 
 at Waterloo, 
 
 With England's flaunting flag of truce full flutter- 
 ing to their view. 
 
 She sees him take his father's sword he wore at 
 
 Monterey, 
 When wounded in his good right arm, among the 
 
 dead he lay ; 
 She notes the hot blood flush his cheek, the glitter 
 
 in his eye, 
 And says, " Thank God, no duty calls my boy to 
 
 bleed or die ! " 
 
 But hark ! from out the South there come such 
 strange and sudden cries 
 
 That every lad flings down his bat and stands with 
 frightened eyes ; 
 
 The mills are hushed ; the presses groan ; the ham- 
 mers silent fall ; 
 
 And fear on all the anxious streets has settled like 
 a pall.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 65 
 
 To arms ! to arms ! to arms ! it comes, as when 
 some muttering storm 
 
 Along the threatened vales sends first its sullen 
 slow alarm ; 
 
 To arms ! to arms ! to arms ! it swells, as when the 
 thunders crash 
 
 Among the swaying tree-tops where the lurid light- 
 nings flash. 
 
 " God keep my boy ! " the mother says, and straps 
 
 his knapsack down, 
 And sets the drooping cap of blue upon his golden 
 
 crown ; 
 "God keep my boy ! " and by his side she proudly 
 
 follows on, 
 Nor fails nor faints, till out of sight the volunteers 
 
 have gone. 
 
 Behold a mighty angel, sifting, sifting as he flies ! 
 The Nation 'tis he sifteth ! and behold before him 
 
 rise 
 
 Heroic men and women, whose consecrated prayers 
 Bring down the heights of victory like links of 
 
 golden stairs. 
 5
 
 66 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 March on ! march on ! the blazing towns are telling 
 where they halt ! 
 
 March on! march on! the heath their bed, their 
 shelter heaven's vault ! 
 
 March on ! while yet one foe remains to lift an impi- 
 ous hand 
 
 And tear the flag of Freedom from one cabin in the 
 land ! 
 
 Now with the corps of pioneers, the troops a road 
 
 to hew, 
 Now leading on the skirmish line, the enemy in 
 
 view; 
 Now scaling up the mountain's peak the foot of 
 
 man ne'er trod, 
 The soldiers of the Union wage the battles blest 
 
 of God. 
 
 Whiz, whiz, the flying minie-balls like leaden rain 
 
 sweep on ; 
 Crash, crash, the rattling musketry, and rank by 
 
 rank is gone ; 
 Roar, roar, the cannon thunders, and the air is black 
 
 as night ; 
 And upward with the billows float our heroes souls 
 
 from sight.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 67 
 
 " Come hither now, my Captain, and tell, and tell 
 
 me true, 
 Where is my boy, my brave, good boy, who marched 
 
 away with you ? 
 O speak, that I may find him, that upon his mother's 
 
 breast 
 He may in all his agony one little moment rest. 
 
 " I've brought him, see, some simple things he 
 
 always liked at home, 
 Some grapes from our own garden he will smile 
 
 to see me come ! 
 Lead on the moments hasten, and I must be with 
 
 my boy ! 
 Dead, dead, your face makes answer ! Christ be 
 
 pitiful !".... Deploy 
 
 Ye soldiers, for the battle ! Marshal, march in all 
 
 your pride, 
 But, behold, a spirit walketh close by every soldier's 
 
 side ; 
 And above the paeans rising float the murmurs of 
 
 the dirge, 
 As the moaning of the ocean drowns the clamor of 
 
 the surge.
 
 68 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Oh, ye cannot by your marching give the mother 
 
 back her son, 
 Give the maiden back her lover, give the wife her 
 
 dearest one ; 
 Give the little children calling, when the evening 
 
 draws apace, 
 " Papa, papa ! Come home, papa ! " one more 
 
 glimpse of his dead face. 
 
 But ye may rebuild the altars the despoiler has 
 
 defiled, 
 And ye may restrain the sacrifice to idol fierce and 
 
 wild ; 
 And, as from Sinai's holy height, announce the new 
 
 command : 
 " Victoria, Victoria ! Freedom shall rule the land ! " 
 
 Now banners wave, and bugles blow, and woods 
 
 with song be glad ! 
 The house-tops throng with people, and the streets 
 
 with joy run mad ! 
 The cheers of Boston proudly up to Bunker Hill 
 
 arise, 
 And westward roll and mingle as the Golden Gate 
 
 replies !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 69 
 
 Bring out the gray-haired veterans of Harrison and 
 
 Clay, 
 And let them swing their hats once more on this 
 
 eventful day ! 
 Bring out the Buena Vista guards who stood by 
 
 Taylor well, 
 And let them with their gallant cheers the shouts of 
 
 triumph swell ! 
 
 Bring out the little children, clad in fleecy robes of 
 
 white, 
 To shout, with all their happy souls, their wild and 
 
 glad delight ! 
 And don't forget a place for those whose mute lips 
 
 make no sign, 
 Joy's sable guests of sorrow, moving slowly into 
 
 line ! 
 
 Time may fill all the furrows the cannon-balls have 
 plowed ; 
 
 May set the robins singing where the bullets whistled 
 loud ; 
 
 Time may the passion-flower twine o'er rude and 
 ragged grave, 
 
 The poppy's flaunting pennons from the prison bur- 
 rows wave ;
 
 70 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Time may set sirens singing where the good old ship 
 
 sails true, 
 But their voices wake no echo in the bosoms of the 
 
 crew ; 
 Our hearts but beat the truer for the terrors we 
 
 have past, 
 And the prophecies of ages live a verity at last. 
 
 Bend soft, O skies, above the graves our fallen 
 heroes fill, 
 
 In far Potomac marshes, on the heights of Georgia 
 hill, 
 
 Where the blue Virginia mountains in their lonely 
 grandeur frown, 
 
 Where the tide of Chickamauga flows by fort- 
 invested town ! 
 
 Blow soft, O winds, around them with your freighted 
 
 sweets and balm, 
 And the rhythm of your numbers flowing into song 
 
 and psalm ! 
 Say the Nation's heart is keeping, in its silent deeps 
 
 aglow, 
 All the sacred recollections treasured in the long 
 
 ago !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 7 1 
 
 Smile soft, O flowers, bending low, like friends with 
 saddened eyes, 
 
 Moist with the dear remembrances of saintly sac- 
 rifice ! 
 
 Rise, gracious lily ! Multiply, O rose, in regal 
 pride ! 
 
 Fit emblems of the loyal ones who lived, and loved, 
 and died ! 
 
 And thou, O flag of Freedom, fan their slumbers 
 
 where they lie ! 
 At morning toss and flutter, and at midnight float 
 
 and fly ! 
 Keep guard o'er all thy children as upon the walls 
 
 they stood, 
 Baptising for futurity thy folds in crimson blood ! 
 
 Float on above the living ; float on above the dead ! 
 While a hope awaits fruition, while a prayer remains 
 
 unsaid ! 
 This motto on thy bosom bear to earth's remotest 
 
 parts : 
 God keep the Union ! Give to all our people loyal 
 
 hearts !
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 SONS OF VETERANS. 
 
 MUSTER the brave boys in ! 
 Not for the clash of arms, 
 Not for the fierce alarms, 
 Not for the sword and the flame ! 
 In the might of a Nation's name, 
 Muster them in ! 
 
 Muster the brave boys in ! 
 Not for the reddening strife, 
 Not for " a life for a life," 
 For the flight of- furious steeds ! 
 In the calm of a Nation's needs, 
 Muster them in ! 
 
 Muster the brave boys in ! 
 Not for the gay parade, 
 Not for the reckless raid, 
 For the battles that rend the land ! 
 In the love of a Nation's hand, 
 Muster them in!
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 73 
 
 Muster the brave boys in ! 
 Not for the smiting scourge, 
 Not for the awful dirge, 
 For the graces that peace shall shed 
 Over a Nation's head, 
 Muster them in ! 
 
 Muster the brave boys in . 
 To stay the steps that are slow, 
 To lift the hearts that are low, 
 To stand as a guard of might 
 In the Nation's light, or night, 
 Muster them in ! 
 
 Muster the brave boys in ! 
 That the vows may be passed along 
 That their fathers have kept and are strong, 
 In the hope of a happier day 
 In the Nation's heart for aye, 
 Muster them in !
 
 74 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 DEAD ON THE BORDER. 
 
 YOUR soldier boy is gone ? 
 How fell he, comrade ? In the van 
 Where Death struck swift from man to man? 
 Oh, aye, I know he fell 
 Where the red raiders yell ; 
 
 Our soldier boy is gone ! 
 
 Your soldier boy is gone ! 
 It was but yesterday he went 
 A lad with your old regiment, 
 Over the West Virginia hills, 
 Stout-hearted to the bugle trills ! 
 
 Our brave old boy is gone ! 
 
 Your soldier boy has gone ! 
 But yesterday, I said, and yet 
 A dozen harvest moons have set 
 Since on his shoulders shone the bars ! 
 A valiant soul in valiant wars, 
 
 Our brave good boy has gone.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Your soldier boy is gone ! 
 O pallid face ! O cold, still heart ! 
 O sweet veiled eyes whence no smiles start ! 
 O stricken sword-arm ! Hear our prayer, 
 And answer if ye loved him, where 
 
 Our soldier boy is gone ? 
 
 Your soldier boy is gone ! 
 And what is left but sobs and tears, 
 But aching hearts and broken years ? 
 Ah, God, have pity ! in thine eye 
 We are but babes that moan and cry ! 
 
 Our soldier boy is gone ! 
 
 Your soldier boy is gone ! 
 And nothing left but sobs and tears ? 
 Aye, memories of golden years, 
 Fame, honor, manhood's royal meed 
 Of generous aim and glorious deed ! 
 
 Our soldier is not gone ! 
 
 Your soldier boy is gone ! 
 Aye, risen to heights sublimer far
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Than any known to mortal are ! 
 For, lo ! that life is deemed most blest 
 That serves its God and country best ! 
 Our soldier is not gone !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 77 
 
 HAIL TO THE FLAG. 
 
 RUMBLING, and rolling-, and rocking, the battle swept 
 
 up from the valley, 
 Laid its red hand on the harvest, its torch at the 
 
 heart of the hearthstone ; 
 Laid its hot breath on the village, that shivered and 
 
 shrank at its coming ; 
 Snapped like a forest of firs beneath the sharp 
 
 strokes of the tempest. 
 
 Up from the hush of the hamlet came the low cries 
 
 of the women, 
 Down from the whirl of the city, the wail of the 
 
 fatherless children, 
 Mingling and making their moan in the lap of a 
 
 desolate sorrow, 
 The dirge and the funeral moan of a widowed and 
 
 comfortless sorrow. 
 
 Day is as night, and the night is a sweeping and 
 swift desolation,
 
 78 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 The hurricane chained to its breast, and the curse 
 
 of the scourge in its footsteps ; 
 Heaping its dead in the trenches, with glitter of 
 
 steel, and the bayonet 
 Red like the Golgotha spear dipped in the blood of 
 
 the innocent. 
 
 Ever the long-roll is heard, the marching of men to 
 
 the slaughter, 
 The scream of the bugles like eagles that flap their 
 
 broad wings to the thunder ; 
 Mingling their din with the shriek of the shell and 
 
 the crash of the cannon, 
 And the shock of the lines as they kneel in solid 
 
 platoons to the volley. 
 
 " Stand to your guns ! " And there came the rush 
 
 and the crush of the whirlwind ; 
 Headless and trunkless they fell, the royal old oaks 
 
 of the forest, 
 The men with the sinews of strength and the pride 
 
 of the oak-knotted forest, 
 Lay with their lips to the dust, and as dust the rent 
 
 reins of their valor.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 79 
 
 Lay with their lips to the sod and their hearts to the 
 ribbed rocks as pulseless, 
 
 And the sobs of the ridges gave back the cries of 
 their soul in the conflict ; 
 
 The cry of the mighty struck dumb with their eyes 
 on the goal of the victor, 
 
 The waving of palms and the plumes, and the wel- 
 come acclaim to the victor. 
 
 Brothers they knelt in the ranks, with faces hard- 
 set for the battle, 
 
 And eyes that were eyes that beheld the march of 
 the gods in the war-dust, 
 
 The shimmer of shields and the plumes and the 
 stride of the gods in the war-dust ; 
 
 And the yawning wide earth at their feet with the 
 rumble of hell in its bosom. 
 
 Shoulder to shoulder they knelt in the glow and the 
 
 glare of the carnage, 
 The red reeling whirl and the dance of the harpies 
 
 that gloat on the carnage ; 
 Stifled their souls in the heat and the thick blinding 
 
 smoke of the carnage, 
 The black-draught absinthe of hate drunk deep in 
 
 the wrath of the carnage.
 
 8o CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 Sighted their guns in the flash of the bursting of 
 shell and the glamour 
 
 Of mad conflagration pent up in the mountain- 
 locked depths of the forest ; 
 
 Sighted their guns as they lay with their hearts to 
 the hearts of their comrades, 
 
 The long abatis of the dead thrown up at the feet 
 of the living. 
 
 God ! how that terrible struggle is branded and 
 
 burnt in my being, 
 Seared to my soul in the furnace of fiery and fierce 
 
 tribulation ! 
 Waking or sleeping, they rise and look in my eyes 
 
 and confront me, 
 Look in my eyes with the eyes of the slain in the 
 
 smoke of the battle. 
 
 Twain in the ranks they were mine, my foster sons 
 
 born for the battle, 
 Stalwart of limb and of courage drawn from a long 
 
 generation ; 
 A royal long lineage of men that fought on the 
 
 moor and the mountain, 
 And planted the ensigns of Freedom high on the 
 
 bulwarks of nations.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 8l 
 
 " Captain," he said, as he came, with one on each 
 
 arm to the muster, 
 " Captain, we've talked it all over I, and the boys, 
 
 and their mother ; 
 And little we deem it of worth that we shrink when 
 
 the need is supremest ; 
 Take them, and God help you, Captain, to make 
 
 them half worthy their country." 
 
 Side by side in the ranks, in the camp, in the march, 
 
 in the battle, 
 Side by side, my brave boys, never a sigh nor a 
 
 murmur ; 
 Deeming it honor to share the siege and the thirst 
 
 and the hunger, 
 Deeming it honor, while forward beckoned the flag 
 
 of the Union. 
 
 Death to the right and the left, ghostly and ghastly 
 and gory, 
 
 Death in the sod at their feet, making its bitter com- 
 plaining, 
 
 Death in the voice of the tempest, death in the gasp 
 of a prayer, 
 6
 
 82 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL DAY, 
 
 Death it is death but to speak, in the flight of a 
 thought it is hidden. 
 
 Keen as the lightning's breath the bullet has sped 
 
 on its mission ; 
 Forward the ranks are swept down, forward they 
 
 spring to the breaches ; 
 And ever the crash and the crush of the tempest of 
 
 fire, and the horror, 
 And ever the stretcher gives back the dust to the 
 
 earth that has given. 
 
 Side by side, my brave boys, my foster sons bred 
 
 for the battle, 
 Side by side in the smoke and the fire and the fierce 
 
 tribulation ; 
 Side by side with the seal of the angel of peace on 
 
 their bosom, 
 Under the rudely-turned sod waiting the dawn of 
 
 fruition. 
 
 Waiting the dawn of a day sweet as the birth of a 
 
 summer, 
 When like a bow in the clouds Union should span 
 
 the Republic ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 83 
 
 Flinging its halo of suns over the frosts of the 
 
 Northland, 
 Flinging its halo of stars over the dews of the 
 
 Southland. 
 
 Show me the men in the ranks, I will show you the 
 might of the Nation ! 
 
 Crown them with laurels and love the battle-scarred 
 sons of our peril ! 
 
 Sacred the hills where they lie, the plains that 
 received their baptismal, 
 
 Bright as the pathway of souls threading the arch- 
 way of heaven. 
 
 Would they might rise from the ranks, cordon the 
 hills, and confront us, 
 
 Lay their dead hands in our hands, awed in the 
 silver-tongued silence, 
 
 Under the pinions of peace, under the whispers of 
 promise, 
 
 Calmly with eye unto eye sharing the sweet bene- 
 diction. 
 
 What would they say, could they rise, look in our 
 eyes and salute us ?
 
 84 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 "Men of the North and the South, nurtured in Lib- 
 erty's cradle, 
 
 Call it not vain that we fell bearing the ensigns of 
 Union 
 
 High on the summits of fame, far on the outposts of 
 Freedom. 
 
 "Men of the North and the South, mighty in pride and 
 
 in valor, 
 Fair are the banners of Peace, brave is the service she 
 
 offers ; 
 Broad are her fleets, and her sails lead to wide havens 
 
 of conquest. 
 Proud are the forts that she storms, guarding the mints 
 
 of the mountains. 
 
 "Men of the North and the South, bitter the fountains 
 
 of faction, 
 Eschol has grapes that are sweet, valleys of milk and 
 
 of honey; 
 Turn from your idols, and forth, mount to the hills 
 
 and possess them, 
 Fashion your temples of Peace, tribe unto tribe adding 
 
 tribute
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 85 
 
 "Liberty calls from her heights : 'Give me brave men 
 for my service, 
 
 Men who can wrestle with wrong, armed with the 
 armor of honor; 
 
 Men who can stand with bared brows under the splen- 
 dors of heaven, 
 
 When the swift lightnings of wrath flash where the 
 storm-cloud is riven.' " 
 
 Lead us, O Liberty, lead, under the zenith of Hope, 
 Under the banners of Peace, tossing their fluttering 
 folds ; 
 
 Under the shade and the sun, 
 Blending their colors in one ; 
 Red, White, and Blue, 
 Blue, White, and Red, 
 
 Under the banners that float over our garlanded 
 dead. 
 
 Lead us, O Liberty, lead, forth to a holier day, 
 Glad with the cymbals of joy, great with the glory 
 to be ; 
 
 Forth in the pride of our might, 
 Forth in the might of the right ;
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Red, White, and Blue, 
 Blue, White, and Red, 
 
 Under whose folds we have fought, under whose 
 stars we have bled. 
 
 Lead us, O Liberty, lead ! Happy who follow 
 
 anear, 
 
 Not as the conscripted go, not as the slave to his 
 chain, 
 
 Strong in the sonship of love, 
 Strong in the grace from above ; 
 Red, White, and Blue, 
 Blue, White, and Red, 
 
 Emblem of happier hope, brothers to brotherhood 
 wed. 
 
 Lead us, O Liberty, lead, ready and steady we 
 
 come, 
 
 Elbow to elbow we march, timing our steps to the 
 call; 
 
 Up from the ban and the blight, 
 Up to the summits of light; 
 Red, White, and Blue, 
 Blue, White, and Red, 
 
 Conflict and carnage behind, glory and grandeur 
 ahead.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 87 
 
 Lead us, O Liberty, lead, every star in its place, 
 Every fold of the dear old flag burning and bla- 
 zoned with love ; 
 
 Below is the chastening rod, 
 Above is the glory of God ; 
 Blue, White, and Red, 
 Red, White, and Blue, 
 
 Flag of our fathers, thrice hail ! Hail to the Red, 
 White, and Blue !
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 FOR HIS DEAR SAKE. 
 
 I HAVE gathered the dewy roses, 
 
 The lily and columbine, 
 The ivy, and iris, and myrtle, 
 
 And pale sweet jessamine ; 
 And out where some brave heart is lying 
 
 In an unmarked lonely place, 
 For his dear, dear sake, I will strew them, 
 
 Who slumbers at Rocky Face. 
 
 I woke when the odorous morning 
 
 Came royally from the gloom, 
 And I wept as my gay companions 
 
 Went culling from bloom to bloom ; 
 Ah, little they know of the sighing, 
 
 And little of all the tears 
 That stifle the heart that is asking 
 
 The loves of its happy years ! 
 
 And I thought of the last fond message 
 He sent in his hopeful way :
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 ' But one little week, and I'm coming, 
 
 My Queen of the joyous May." 
 Now out in the wilds he is sleeping, 
 The where I may never see. 
 
 May of the Mays ! the gladdest 
 And saddest of all to me ! 
 
 1 know not where they have laid him, 
 My gallant, my brave, my own, 
 
 Out, out where the wild fern is growing, 
 And the pines through the long years moan ; 
 
 And erst when the dead they have honored 
 With flowers and praiseful song, 
 
 I have lain in my darkened chamber 
 And murmured the whole day long. 
 
 But now I have gathered the flowers ; 
 
 And out where the lonely dove 
 Is making lament I will strew them 
 
 O'er some other woman's love ; 
 And may be in days that are coming, 
 
 With sorrow her sweet eyes dim, 
 Some other sad one will be strewing 
 
 May's beauteous blossoms o'er him.
 
 9 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 THE DRUMMER BOY OF MISSION 
 RIDGE. 
 
 {Incident inthe life of JOHN S.KOUNTZ, Commander-in-Chief, G.A.K.] 
 
 DID ever you hear of the Drummer Boy of Mission 
 
 Ridge, who lay 
 With his face to the foe, 'neath the enemy's guns, in 
 
 the charge of that terrible, day ? 
 They were firing above him and firing below, and 
 
 the tempest of shot and shell 
 Was raging like death as he moaned in his pain, by 
 
 the breastworks where he fell. 
 
 We had burnished our muskets and filled our can- 
 teens, as we waited for orders that morn, 
 
 Who knows when the soldier is dying of thirst where 
 the wounded are wailing forlorn ? 
 
 When forth from the squad that was ordered back 
 from the flash of that furious fire 
 
 Our Drummer Boy came, and his face was aflame 
 with the light of a noble desire.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 91 
 
 " Go back with your corps !" our Colonel had said, 
 
 but he waited the moment when 
 He might follow the ranks and shoulder a gun with 
 
 the best of us bearded men ; 
 And so when the signals from old Fort Wood set an 
 
 army of veterans wild, 
 He flung down his drum which spun down the hill 
 
 like the ball of a wayward child. 
 
 And so he fell in with the foremost ranks of brave 
 
 old Company G, 
 As we charged by the flank, with our colors ahead, 
 
 and our columns closed up like a V, 
 In the long swinging lines of that splendid advance, 
 
 when the flags of our corps floated out 
 Like the ribbons that dance in the jubilant lines of 
 
 the march of a gala day rout. 
 
 He charged with the ranks, though he carried no 
 
 gun, for the Colonel had said him nay, 
 And he breasted the blast of the bristling guns and 
 
 the shock of the sickening fray ; 
 And when by his side they were falling like hail, he 
 
 sprang to a comrade slain, 
 And shouldered his musket and bore it as true as 
 
 the hand that was dead to pain.
 
 92 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 "Twas dearly we loved him, our Drummer Boy, with 
 
 a fire in his bright black eye, 
 That flashed forth a spirit too great for his form, 
 
 he only was just so high, 
 As tall perhaps as your little lad who scarcely 
 
 reaches your shoulder, 
 Though his heart was the heart of a veteran then, a 
 
 trifle, it may be, the bolder. 
 
 He pressed to the front, our lad so leal, and the 
 
 works were almost won ; 
 A moment more, and our flags had swung o'er the 
 
 muzzle of murderous gun ; 
 But a raking fire swept the van, and he fell 'mid the 
 
 wounded and the slain, 
 With his wee wan face turned up to Him who feeleth 
 
 His children's pain. 
 
 Again and again our lines fell back, and again with 
 
 shivering shocks 
 They flung themselves on the Rebel works as the 
 
 fleets on the jagged rocks ; 
 To be crushed and broken and scattered amain, as 
 
 the wrecks of the surging storm, 
 Where none may rue and none may reck of aught 
 
 that has human form.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 93 
 
 So under the Ridge we were flying for the order to 
 
 charge again, 
 And we counted our comrades missing and we 
 
 counted our comrades slain ; 
 And one said, " Johnnie, our Drummer Boy, is 
 
 grievously shot, and lies ' 
 Just under the enemy's breastworks ; if left on the 
 
 field he dies." 
 
 Then all the blood that was in me surged up to my 
 
 aching brow, 
 And my heart leaped up like a ball in my throat, I 
 
 can feel it even now, 
 And I swore I would bring that boy from the field 
 
 if God would spare my breath, 
 If all the guns on Mission Ridge should thunder the 
 
 threat of death. 
 
 I crept and crept up the ghastly Ridge, by the 
 
 wounded and the dead, 
 With the moans of my comrades right and left, 
 
 behind me and yet ahead, 
 Till I came to the form of our Drummer Boy, in 
 
 his blouse of dusty blue, 
 With his face to the foe, 'neath the enemy's guns, 
 
 where the blast of the battle blew,
 
 94 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 And his gaze as he met my own, God wot, would 
 
 have melted a heart of stone, 
 As he tried like a wounded bird to rise, and placed 
 
 his hand in my own ; 
 So wan and faint, with his ruby red blood drank 
 
 deep by the pitiless sward, 
 While his breast with its fleeting, fluttering breath 
 
 throbbed painfully slow and hard. 
 
 And he said in a voice half smothered, though its 
 
 whispering thrills me yet, 
 " I think in a moment more that I would have stood 
 
 on that parapet, 
 For my feet have trodden life's rugged ways, and I 
 
 have been used to climb 
 Where some of the boys have slipped I know, but I 
 
 never missed a time. 
 
 "But now I nevermore will climb; and, comrade, 
 
 when you see 
 The men go up those breastworks there, just stoop 
 
 and waken me ; 
 For though I cannot make the charge and join the 
 
 cheers that rise, 
 I may forget my pain to see the old flag kiss the 
 
 skies."
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 95 
 
 Well, it was hard to treat him so, his poor limb 
 
 shattered sore, 
 But I raised him to my shoulder and to the Surgeon 
 
 bore, 
 And the boys who saw us coming each gave a shout 
 
 of joy, 
 Though some in curses clothed their prayers, for 
 
 him, our Drummer Boy. 
 
 When sped the news that " Fighting Joe " had saved 
 
 the Union right 
 With his legions fresh from Lookout, and that 
 
 Thomas massed his might 
 And forced the Rebel center, and our cheering ran 
 
 like wild, 
 And Sherman's heart was happy as the heart of a 
 
 little child, 
 
 When Grant from his lofty outlook saw our flags by 
 
 the hundred fly 
 Along the slopes of Mission Ridge, where'er he cast 
 
 his eye, 
 And our Drummer Boy heard the news and knew 
 
 the mighty battle done, 
 The valiant contest ended, and the glorious victory 
 
 won.
 
 96 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY. 
 
 Then he smiled in all his agony beneath the Sur- 
 geon's steel, 
 
 And joyed that his the blood to flow his country's 
 woes to heal ; 
 
 And his bright, black eyes so yearning, grew 
 strangely glad and wide ; 
 
 I think that in that hour of joy he gladly would 
 have died. 
 
 Ah, ne'er again our ranks were cheered by our little 
 
 Drummer's drum, 
 When rub, rub, rub-a-dub dub, we knew that our 
 
 hour had come ; 
 Beat brisk at morn, beat sharp at eve, rolled long 
 
 when it called to arms, 
 With rub, rub, rub-a-dub dub, 'mid the clamor of 
 
 rude alarms ! 
 
 Ah, ne'er again our black-eyed boy looked up in the 
 
 veteran's face, 
 To waken thoughts of his children safe in mother 
 
 love's embrace ! 
 O ne'er again with tripping feet he ran with the 
 
 other boys, 
 His budding hopes were cast away as they were idle 
 
 toys.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 97 
 
 But ever in our hearts he dwells, with a grace that 
 
 never is old, 
 For him the heart to duty wed can nevermore grow 
 
 cold ! 
 His heart the hero's heart we name, the loyal, true, 
 
 and brave, 
 The heart of the soldier hoar and gray, of the lad 
 
 in his Southern grave ! 
 
 And when they tell of their heroes, and the laurels 
 
 they have won, 
 Of the scars they are doomed to carry, of the deeds 
 
 that they have done, 
 Of the horror to be biding among the ghastly 
 
 dead, 
 The gory sod beneath them, the bursting shell o'er- 
 
 head, 
 
 My heart goes back to Mission Ridge and the 
 
 Drummer boy who lay 
 With his face to the foe 'neath the enemy's guns in 
 
 the charge of that terrible day ; 
 And I say that the land that bears such sons is 
 
 crowned and dowered with all
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 The dear God giveth nations to stay them lest they 
 fall 
 
 O glory of Mission Ridge ! stream on, like the 
 
 roseate light of morn, 
 On the sons that now are living, on the sons that 
 
 are yet unborn ! 
 And cheers for our comrades living, and tears as 
 
 they pass away, 
 And three times three for the Drummer Boy who 
 
 fought at the front that day !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 99 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S RING. 
 
 " O SIR, the ring, the ring ! 
 The ring I gave you on that field of death ! 
 1 lay half gasping for the sluggish breath 
 That came and went and stayed so long that I 
 Thought I should die ! 
 
 O sir, the ring, the ring ! " 
 
 The woman fronts me now, 
 Standing before me with her great grave eyes 
 Wherein some burnt-out sorrow smouldering lies ; 
 Her lips close pressed to force the thrusting pain 
 To rest again ; 
 
 Athwart her lifted brow 
 
 The print of scoffings borne, 
 
 With thorn-crown forcing deadly drops ; her cheek 
 A storied page whereon the letters speak 
 Of tears that burn, and lips that yearn, and life 
 Seared in the strife 
 
 Where love, alas, lies lorn.
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 " O sir, the ring, the ring ! " 
 Her trembling touch I feel, and lift my hand, 
 And take therefrom the gleaming beaten band, 
 And read thereon the letters, " C. E. D." 
 And seemeth me 
 
 The brooding years out-wing 
 
 Unto Antietam's field ; 
 I tread among the dead ; I hear the groans 
 Of wounded men ; I hear the sighs and moans 
 Of homesick hearts ; the plea of famished lips 
 E'en for a drop that drips 
 
 From founts unsealed ; 
 
 And as we grope our way 
 With succor for sore hearts, we come to where 
 Among our fallen comrades, two are there 
 With heart so close to heart we marvel much 
 If one fell touch 
 
 Of sorrow did not slay ; 
 
 Full-bearded, one, and brown, 
 With stalwart limbs and chest upheaved and strong, 
 We stoop to wake him. Ah, his sleep is long,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 That long, long sleep that knows 
 
 Nor friends nor foes : 
 We put his number down. 
 
 But this pale lad who turns 
 A pleading face to meet the pitying eye, 
 Ah, little lad, he surely shall not die ! 
 Oh, cheer thee now, thou yet shall see the skies 
 Where love-light lies, 
 
 The hearth where home-light burns ! 
 
 I kneel and lift his hand 
 
 Poor hand that gives no warm response to mine, 
 Poor shattered hand so maiden-fair and fine ! 
 And then the fainting plea : " Please take the ring, 
 And wear it till I bring 
 
 Words you may understand ! " 
 
 So with the vision gone, 
 And then, " O woman, what was he to thee ? 
 A brother may be, or a lover ? See, 
 The ring I've worn these years, and in his name 
 Whose heart aflame 
 
 For country led him on ! "
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL. DAY, 
 
 " Nay, brother he was not, 
 Nor lover, to whose thirsting lips you gave 
 From that canteen you brought to soothe and save! 
 'Twas I, a woman, whom you blessed that day ! 
 'Twas my love lay 
 
 Close by as one forgot. 
 
 " Our wedding-day was set, 
 And happy plans were laid for happy days, 
 And love went merry in a hundred ways ; 
 When, one strange morning, I can never tell 
 How it befell, 
 
 Grief stuns me even yet, 
 
 " He came with hurrying pace, 
 And flushing cheek, and eye a-gleam with pride, 
 And said, ' My darling, my long-promised bride, 
 Our country now has need of me, I know, 
 And so I go!' 
 
 We stood there face to face, 
 
 " And yet I did not speak, 
 Nor utter a complaint, nor breathe a sigh. 
 Then came the words, ' God bless you, and ' Good- 
 bye'!
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 103 
 
 He who was father, mother, friend in one, 
 Was gone, and there was none 
 Alas for lives so bleak 
 
 " To comfort or to keep. 
 As one both blind and dumb, I stood apace ; 
 Meseemed that some vast hand had struck my face, 
 And seized me swiftly in its cruel grasp ; 
 And from its clasp 
 
 A thousand fears did leap 
 
 " And rend me with fierce jaws ; 
 And then the sullen stupor come to lay 
 Its deathly clutch upon me day by day ; 
 And after that, O joy ! the dawn of hope 
 My swooning sense to ope 
 
 To Love's most blessed laws. 
 
 " To cut my long brown hair, 
 And idly lounge where idle men were met 
 To prate of battles won and lost ; to let 
 The mustering sergeant take my age and name 
 And whence I came ; 
 
 To lift my hand and swear ;
 
 104 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 " To doff my borrowed guise, 
 And don the envied suit of loyal blue ; 
 The while they said : ' Poor boy ! if he but knew 
 What woes there wait for those who go to war, 
 Then were he far 
 
 To venture in such wise, 1 
 
 " Thus sped the spell ; 
 And hope and I are once more face to face, 
 Though death and danger follow on apace ! 
 The drums play up, the banners dance ahead ; 
 Farewell to dread ; 
 
 Or life, or death, 'tis well ! 
 
 " Aye, and I held my own, 
 And kept my pace beside the best of them, 
 And bore fatigues as did the rest of them ; 
 Nor shrank when ' Forward ' was the call to go 
 Face to face with the foe 
 
 Where the long lines were thrown. 
 
 " When we led the advance 
 At Antietam there, with the old Ninth Corps, 
 I marched by his side well up to the fore ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Over the ford at the old stone bridge there, 
 
 Up to the ridge there : 
 And, it falling by chance, 
 
 " The Twenty-eighth led the van, 
 And skirmished all night as we lay there, 
 As a tiger had fought for his prey there ; 
 And so when the battle was ended 
 In victory splendid, 
 
 And man called unto man, 
 
 " The voice of him, my own, 
 Made no response unto my bitter cry. 
 ' O love,' I said, ' thou shalt not surely die ! ' 
 But love was fled and troth was dead and he 
 Came not to me ! 
 
 Yet love went not alone, 
 
 " The hand that bore the ring, 
 Symbol of plighted faith and deathless vow, 
 Lay ruddy with the seal of valor now, 
 And so it was I said, ' I pray thee take, 
 E'en for Love's sake, 
 
 This pledge whence visions spring
 
 Io6 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 " ' Of souls dissevered wide, 
 Save for the fond allegiance that they owe 
 To home and country, for whose sake they know 
 Wounds, prisons, perils upon land and sea ; 
 The grinning mockery 
 
 Of smitten hope and pride. 
 
 " ' The exile from the face 
 Of wife, home, mother, aye, of all 
 The holy, happy names that we do call 
 The things which tell of heavy hearts grown light, 
 And days made bright 
 
 With Love's transforming grace.' " 
 
 So I gave back the ring ; 
 And saw her sadly, slowly turn away 
 Into wide streets where deepening shadows lay, 
 Loveless and lorn to pass wide open hall 
 Where children call 
 
 Who know no sorrowing ; 
 
 To see the eager twain, 
 Arm locked in arm, contented go 
 Into the light and life and warmth and glow ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 107 
 
 To hear the voice of laughter, and the sound 
 
 Of mirth around ; 
 And yet above her slain 
 
 To hush the love-lorn cry, 
 And glory in the valor that did go 
 Up to the cannon's mouth, up to the foe, 
 And would not for its own a portion take 
 E'en for Love's sake, 
 
 When men were called to die. 
 
 So Glory claims her own, 
 Or be it on the rueful field of war, 
 Or by mute hearths where sorrow's ashes are ; 
 Where hearts are light and hearts are leal, 
 Amid the clash of steel, 
 
 Where black-robed women moan ! 
 
 These the Immortals love ! 
 Theirs is the faith and fortitude that lead 
 To glorious sacrifice and valiant deed ; 
 Up to the shining citadel of Fame 
 Where each heroic name 
 
 Is writ in blood above !
 
 lo8 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 AYE, BRING THE FADELESS EVER- 
 GREENS. 
 
 AYE, bring the fadeless evergreens, the laurel and 
 
 the bay, 
 
 A grateful land remembers all her promises to-day ; 
 And hearts that gave their treasures up when man- 
 hood was the price 
 Now bring their sweetest offerings and bless the 
 
 sacrifice. 
 It is no soulless pageantry o'er half forgotten 
 
 deeds 
 That draws from painted history the spirit of its 
 
 meeds ! 
 In the pale and anxious faces that gather in the 
 
 crowd 
 Is found the brave sad story of the conquest and 
 
 the shroud. 
 
 Aye, bring the fadeless evergreens, the laurel and 
 the bay ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 109 
 
 They serve a nobler purpose now than under Ro- 
 man sway ; 
 
 We'll twine them for our heroes with the cypress 
 and the yew, 
 
 And weave them into garlands with the rosemary 
 and rue. 
 
 The emblems of the conqueror, the emblems of the 
 dead, 
 
 Shall rest, a silent homily, above each sleeping 
 head; 
 
 While victory is whispering of battles nobly won, 
 
 And peace runs after sorrow with her touching, 
 tender tone. 
 
 Aye, bring the queen of flowers the roses red and 
 white 
 
 Though we name no haughty Lancaster or York 
 devoted knight, 
 
 We sing of grander deeds to-day, of greater battles 
 won, 
 
 Of freemen wrapped in Freedom's flag when Free- 
 dom's work was done. 
 
 Aye, strew the dew- wet roses each liquid drop 
 a tear
 
 no CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 From eyes grown dim with weeping above the sol- 
 dier's bier, 
 
 For as their dying fragrance fills all the summer 
 morn, 
 
 So from the tomb of patriots is heroism born. 
 
 Aye, bring the pale white flowers, fresh and sweet 
 
 to look upon 
 There are no purer symbols of the noble spirits 
 
 gone 
 The fragrance floating from them comes to gladden 
 
 us to-day, 
 Like memories of cherished friends forever passed 
 
 away. 
 Aye, bring the stately flowers the haughty fleur 
 
 de Us, 
 
 For never was it emblem of a truer royalty ; 
 To-day its crested head above a private's grave 
 
 may toss, 
 And yet no braver he who wore the helmet and the 
 
 cross. 
 
 Aye, come with flying banners and with stately mar- 
 tial tread !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 With muffled drums and music gather 'round the 
 honored dead ! 
 
 And thus, with bowed heads standing, while we 
 watch the maidens come 
 
 To strew our humble offerings on every sacred 
 tomb 
 
 And while the fires of sorrow burn in many a tear- 
 less eye, 
 
 And hearts less used to grief bow down in speech- 
 less agony ; 
 
 Oh, will not then this earnest prayer arise to every 
 tongue, 
 
 " God give to us such men as these, whatever trials 
 come ! "
 
 CAMP-FIRE. MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 THE BOYS OF MICHIGAN. 
 
 I SING the boys of Michigan, the hardy Wolverines, 
 The heroes of a hundred fights, a hundred war-like 
 
 scenes ! 
 Full-armed they sprang to battle in the shock of 
 
 'sixty-one, 
 And turned no more for friend or foe till victory 
 
 was won. 
 
 To-day the forests echo as the ringing axes glide, 
 And the fisher shouts to fisher as they rock along 
 
 the tide ; 
 To-morrow, as the booms are swept adown the piney 
 
 streams, 
 In the bivouac of battle they dream the soldier's 
 
 dreams. 
 
 They rally to the East of us, they rally to the West, 
 With the ribbons and the roses knotted on each 
 manly breast ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 113 
 
 The ribbons and the roses that the hand of love has 
 
 wrought, 
 In the splendor of the palace, in the humble forest 
 
 cot. 
 
 From the mountains of Virginia comes the neighing 
 
 of their steeds, 
 And the valor of the Union is emblazoned in their 
 
 deeds ; 
 They ford the blue Potomac, they are camping by 
 
 the James, 
 In the blood that courses heroes' veins they've writ 
 
 their honored names. 
 
 On the shining Shenandoah, by the rippling Rapi- 
 dan, 
 
 In the reckless raid with Stoneman, in the shock 
 with Sheridan ; 
 
 Now at Fredericksburg with Burnside, now at Get- 
 tysburg with Meade, 
 
 Where the hills of Pennsylvania resound to valiant 
 deed. 
 
 'Twas but yesterday with Baxter, volunteers from 
 rear to van, 
 8
 
 H4 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 That across the Rappahannock went the Seventh 
 
 Michigan ; 
 On the swinging pontoon bridges, to the muzzles of 
 
 the guns, 
 Hurrah ! they sup in Fredericksburg, though red 
 
 the river runs. 
 
 Like a meteoric shower trailing through the lurid 
 night, 
 
 Come the troopers under Custer, spurred and booted 
 for the fight ; 
 
 There is crashing of the cannon, and the angry mus- 
 kets slay, 
 
 But the trooper's in the saddle and the torch is in 
 his way. 
 
 In the West God speed the battle ! the Boys of 
 
 Michigan 
 They are leading on with Sherman and with Thomas 
 
 in the van ; 
 In the hells that hem Atlanta, in the marches to the 
 
 sea, 
 They are shaking out the guidons that have made a 
 
 Nation free !
 
 AND OTHER TOEMS. 
 
 Cheers for the Boys of Michigan ! Their work was 
 
 nobly done, 
 For Grant's at Appomattox and the Rebel Chief 
 
 out-run ! 
 On the heights of lofty Lookout 'tis their banner we 
 
 descry 
 Where the tempest of the valley smote the tempest 
 
 of the sky. 
 
 Tears for the boys of Michigan, where'er their 
 
 graves may be, 
 In the vales of old Virginia, on the hills of Ten- 
 
 nessee ! 
 Where the path of War lies beaten 'neath the fury 
 
 of his wrath, 
 Where the spectres of the Prison keep the Nation's 
 
 aftermath ! 
 
 Cheers, cheers again, old comrades, brave sons of 
 
 Michigan ! 
 God bless you for the deeds you've done, God keep 
 
 you to a man ! 
 And cheers, brave hearts of Michigan ! Aye, three 
 
 times three to-day 
 For that old flag for which you fought our Na- 
 
 tion's flag for aye !
 
 Tl6 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 THE BLACK REGIMENT AT PORT 
 HUDSON. 
 
 "FORWARD, double-quick, march!" 
 Through the smoke and the flame, 
 Through the cyclone of shot and of shell 
 Seven times down the abyss, 
 Seven times up to the guns, 
 Shattered and scattered and scarred ; 
 The scourge at their head, 
 And the scourge at their feet, 
 Charged the Black Regiment. 
 
 There on the heights were the guns, 
 
 The bloodhounds of battle, 
 
 The dark growling packs crouching low, 
 
 To start at a word from the master, 
 
 And roar and rend in the trail 
 
 Of reeling disaster. 
 
 Under the guns is the bayou, 
 
 A marge of luxuriant grasses,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. "7 
 
 And here are the tawny long lines, 
 
 Where the Orderly passes ; 
 
 And their eyes are aflame, 
 
 As they charge and take aim, 
 
 Down where the bayou runs red 
 
 With the blood of the dead ; 
 
 Where the snarer has set 
 
 The lines of his net ; 
 
 And they sink and they fall 
 
 Beyond hope, beyond call, 
 
 The gallant Black Regiment. 
 
 What did they down in the breach, 
 Under the guns at Port Hudson ? 
 Slaves that they were and despised, 
 Scorned of the land and reviled, 
 Mocked at, and spit at, and spurne'd, 
 Sold like an ox in the shambles, 
 Torn from the breasts that would nurstle, 
 Hated and hunted and hurtled 
 Who nerved their muscle, 
 Who strung their tendons ? 
 Mother of freemen, give answer ! 
 
 1 Lo, while ye dozed in your tents 
 With the languorous air
 
 Il8 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Blown soft from the gardens of musk 
 
 Caressing you there, 
 Your coraline lips, 
 
 And your long silken hair, 
 And the pink waxen tips 
 
 Of your fingers so fair, 
 They toiled and grew strong 
 
 In the gin and the cane, 
 And their ebony thighs, 
 
 And their shoulders strong-knit, 
 For the Isthmian prize 
 
 They were moulded and fit. 
 When they held up bruised hands 
 
 Mine hastened to heal ; 
 When they laid their lips close 
 
 To my heart in the night, 
 I heard through their tears, 
 
 And I taught them to feel 
 That who conquereth foes 
 
 He must fight, 
 He must fight ! " 
 
 " Forward, double-quick, march ! " 
 The scoff and the jeer 
 Are swift to pursue,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 But the scoff and the jeer 
 
 No hero may rue. 
 So steady and stiil 
 They stride down the hill, 
 Till the bloodhounds awake 
 On the brow of the brake, 
 There to show their wide maws, 
 There to rend with fierce jaws, 
 While their clamor and blare 
 Cleave the pestilent air, 
 And they rock and they reel 
 In the raging red wrath, 
 Though their hearts are as steel 
 There is death in the path, 
 And the knights of the seal, 
 They are keeping their math. 
 
 ' Forward, double-quick, march!" 
 Though Nelson would stay 
 The long swinging lines 
 That are melting away, 
 In the dull, deadly glare 
 Of the war-wasting air, 
 Where the sun smites the head,
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL. DAY, 
 
 And the earth snares the feet, 
 And the lines that have led 
 Are the lines of defeat ; 
 For the road to success 
 Is the road to despair, 
 And the toil and the stress 
 Reap but bitterness there. 
 
 " Still forward, and charge for the guns ! " 
 
 Said Cailloux, 
 
 And his shattered sword-arm 
 Was the guidon they knew. 
 But a fire rakes the flanks 
 
 And a fire rakes the van ; 
 He is down with the ranks 
 That go down as one man. 
 
 Shake the old colors out ! 
 
 Planciancois ahead, 
 Where he leads they follow, 
 
 Though the grave be their bed ! 
 But the colors go down, 
 
 And the color-guard's slain, 
 They bend 'neath the colors. 
 
 And forward again !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Through the shot and the shell, 
 
 Through the gloom and the glare, 
 For the conquest lies here, 
 
 And the glory lies there. 
 Alas for Planciancois ! 
 
 Alas for Cailloux ! 
 For the heroes who fall 
 
 In the ranks of the Blue! 
 For the gallant Black Regiment 
 
 Under the guns 
 In the charge at Port Hudson ! 
 
 What did they wrest from the breach 
 Under the guns at Port Hudson? 
 
 From the rage of retreat, 
 
 In the pangs of defeat? 
 
 From the fury of hate, 
 
 And the frenzy of fate ? 
 
 From the jibe and the jeer, 
 
 And the scorn and the sneer. 
 From revenge that leaps out 
 In the ruin and rout, 
 And gloats on the wounded, 
 
 And gloats on the dead,
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 As the jackal that stirs 
 The swift pulses of dread ? 
 
 What did they wrest from the breach, 
 Under the guns at Port Hudson ? 
 The right to be men ; to stand forth 
 Clean-limbed in the fierce light of freedom, 
 And say, " We are men! We are men 
 By these scars, by these wounds ! " And what then ? 
 " Why, patriots, wed to our deeds, 
 In the face of the law and the creeds / 
 By our flag ruby red 
 With the blood of the dead, 
 To stand by our land in her needs ! 
 The first of the fearless, 
 The peer of the peerless, 
 When glory to glory tip-leads ! " 
 
 Out of the awful abyss, 
 Up from the guns at Port Hudson, 
 Out of the smoke and the flame, 
 Shattered and scattered they came, 
 Casting the gyves of the slave,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 123 
 
 Winning the gules of the free ; 
 One on the rolls of the brave, 
 One in the glory to be, 
 The gallant Black Regiment !
 
 124 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 WELCOME HOME ! 
 
 WELCOME ! welcome ! Hark ! the greeting 
 From the glad home-voices comes, 
 
 Words which echo is repeating 
 With the triumph-speaking drums. 
 
 Welcome home from fields of glory, 
 
 Sacred evermore in story, 
 
 Won by you in battles gory, 
 Welcome home ! 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! We remember 
 When you proudly took the field ; 
 
 'T was the beautiful September, 
 And the war-trumps loudly pealed. 
 
 Oh, how proud you seemed when passing 
 
 To the front, where troops were massing, 
 
 Loyal from disloyal classing, 
 Welcome home ! 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! We are thinking 
 Of the wilds of Tennessee,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 125 
 
 When with Burnside, all unshrinking, 
 
 You assumed supremacy ; 
 And from then, your name maintaining, 
 Honors new and noble gaining, 
 Well you won the praise we're naming, 
 Welcome home ! 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! Ask of Sherman 
 
 What of honor you may know ! 
 He will answer, " Robes of ermine, 
 
 Gold and gems, cannot bestow 
 Half the fame on those who wear them, 
 And in princely power bear them ! " 
 Who with honor would compare them? 
 Welcome home' 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! Months have vanished 
 
 Since on frowning Rocky Face 
 You all thoughts and feelings banished, 
 
 Save to fill the hero's place. 
 Never were you seen retreating, 
 But the haughty foe defeating, 
 While the wildest storms were beating, 
 Welcome home !
 
 126 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! Those were battles 
 
 Which the world is proud to name ; 
 Freeing all the human chattels, 
 
 Filling traitor-hearts with shame. 
 Kenesaw's destructive charges, 
 Dallas and Lost Mountain's gorges, 
 Resaca how the theme enlarges! 
 Welcome home ! 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! Hood surrounded 
 
 And the fair Atlanta won, 
 Paeans through the Northland sounded 
 
 For the good work you had done ; 
 And your great achievements summing, 
 In our hearts we said, "They're coming, 
 Hark ! the song of peace is humming ! "- 
 Welcome home ! 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! Darkness lowered 
 
 Fearfully above us all, 
 When brave Thomas seemed o'erpowered, 
 
 And his strength about to fall ; 
 But at Franklin, death defying, 
 While your comrades low were lying, 
 Back you sent the foemen flying, 
 Welcome home !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 127 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! We shall never 
 
 Cease to see the Nashville rout, 
 When with gleaming steel you ever 
 
 Made the rebels face about. 
 Hood's battalions are retreating, 
 Bugles blare and drums are beating, 
 Fame extends you royal greeting, 
 Welcome home ! 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! We have shrined you 
 
 In the temple of our heart ; 
 And within it have entwined you 
 
 Fadeless wreaths with subtle art. 
 There are lines in Love's own letters, 
 Battles, prison-cells, and fetters ; 
 To your prowess we are debtors, 
 Welcome home ! 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! God who kept you 
 
 All these weary days agone, 
 Though of comrades He bereft you, 
 
 He but gathered home His own ; 
 Ever guide you by His power, 
 Though the angry tempests lower, 
 Peace her blessings o'er you shower, 
 Welcome home !
 
 128 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! For the sleeping 
 Heroes in their distant graves, 
 
 We the silent tears are weeping, 
 
 While their blood-bought banner waves 
 
 But its sacred folds can never 
 
 Treason lift a hand to sever, 
 
 Clasp we hands, then, and forever ! 
 Welcome home!
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 129 
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE SOLDIERS' 
 ORPHANS' HOME. 
 
 THE Christmas morn was breaking; and startled 
 
 from my sleep 
 By merry chimes in chorus and joy-bells loud and 
 
 deep, 
 I breathed a hurried matin, and, turning round my 
 
 head, 
 The brightest forms and faces came dancing to my 
 
 bed. 
 
 I looked up quite bewildered, and puzzled much to 
 
 say 
 
 If on the earth, or fairies had stolen me away ; 
 For beaming black eyes dazzled, and laughing blue 
 
 eyes shone, 
 And with the radiant vision mine eyes had blinded 
 
 grown. 
 
 And O the flaxen ringlets and curls of sunny 
 brown. 
 
 9
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 That over dimpled faces and shoulders rippled 
 
 down ; 
 And O the silvery voices that rang through house 
 
 and hall 
 " A merry, merry Christmas ! A merry Christmas 
 
 all ! " 
 
 But even more I marveled for mingling in the 
 
 shout 
 Were words of foreign meaning I could not well 
 
 make out, 
 "6V 1 . Nicholas" "Kris Kringle" and "Santa Claus" 
 
 I heard, 
 With " Pelschnicol" " Knecht Rupert" and many 
 
 another word. 
 
 Among the merry dancers was happy little Nell, 
 And all her darling playmates from near and far as 
 
 well, 
 In floating white, with sashes of blue and pink and 
 
 red, 
 And full of fun and frolic was every little head. 
 
 And little people, oddest of any ever seen, 
 Tripped merrily in quaintest of costumes gray and 
 green,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 131 
 
 The skirts of some were trailing, and some cut at 
 
 the knee, 
 And on their feet were sandals and buskins queer 
 
 to see. 
 
 One wore a gown of linsey, a 'kerchief round her 
 
 neck, 
 And wooden shoes, and close-set cap, and apron 
 
 made of check ; 
 
 And beckoning unto me the modest little miss, 
 I said, " Meine Fraulein, tell me who your Kris 
 
 Kringle is ! " 
 
 Then modestly the maiden told in her simple 
 
 phrase, 
 Of dear Kris Kringle going through broad and 
 
 narrow ways, 
 
 To burgher and to cotter as to the mighty king, 
 And leaving all good children some pretty, dainty 
 
 thing. 
 
 How on the Christmas even he hangs the lighted 
 
 tree, 
 With toys, and brightest ribbons, and flowers fair to 
 
 see ;
 
 132 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 And how when Kinder gather with glad and smiling 
 
 eyes, 
 Knecht Rupert showers candies and laughs at their 
 
 surprise. 
 
 Then came a dimpled darling in linen bib and hose, 
 And cheeks and lip, I'm certain, as red as any rose ; 
 Then I : " O merry maiden of merry England, say 
 What do ye in your country on merry Christmas 
 day ? " 
 
 " We gather in the holly with scarlet berries bright, 
 We hang the sacred mistletoe and dance by the 
 
 Yule-fire light ; 
 We pass the steaming wassail with ribbons round 
 
 the bowl, 
 While merry Christmas carols from hall to cottage 
 
 roll. 
 
 "And with the bright-leaved holly we gather in 
 
 good-will, 
 
 And with the sacred mistletoe we banish every ill, 
 And in the smoking wassail drown enmity and 
 
 strife, 
 And in the tender carol call blessings on our life.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 133 
 
 " And then the mighty pudding stuffed full of juicy 
 plums, 
 
 And rare mince pie and cider, and rusk and white- 
 bread crumbs, 
 
 And far into the midnight the feasting and the 
 games, 
 
 The only night when wee folk have any sort of 
 claims." 
 
 A lad in kilt and plaidie came bravely up and 
 talked 
 
 About the masqueraders that in his country stalked, 
 
 Disguised in strangest costumes, with horns and 
 pipes and wigs, 
 
 And danced the reel and hornpipe and lilting High- 
 land jigs. 
 
 A youth from France the sunny came singing Notre 
 
 Dame, 
 How people wreathe the altars with garlands, and 
 
 the balm 
 
 Of charities and flowers and words of kindly cheer 
 Become sweet consecration for each new Christmas 
 
 year.
 
 T34 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 " What word, O brown Italian ? " With dark and 
 
 flashing eye, 
 
 And floating robe of crimson he softly glided by, 
 And many glowing pictures of good St. Nicholas 
 
 drew, 
 Who comes each year to Florence, and Rome, and 
 
 Venice too ; 
 
 And brings good gifts and gladness to humble 
 
 hearth and home, 
 
 And rings the merry revels from lofty minster-dome, 
 And fills the streets with people, their hearts with 
 
 holy fire, 
 And sings the grand old anthems in proud St. 
 
 Peter's choir. 
 
 And from remotest countries and further ocean 
 
 isles, 
 Wherever Christ is worshipped, they came with songs 
 
 and smiles ; 
 
 In robes of fur from Russia, in silk from far Siam, 
 The Laplander in muffler, the Hindoo with his fan. 
 
 And in one mighty chorus they sang a holy hymn, 
 About the Christ-Child dwelling in far-off Bethle- 
 hem,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 135 
 
 Till in a cloud of glory I saw them float away, 
 Like stars that softly vanish with the coming of the 
 day. 
 
 But still the anthem lingered through all the Christ- 
 mas morn, 
 
 The song I think the angels sung when Christ the 
 Lord was born ; 
 
 When, bending o'er the manger, the prophets hailed 
 their King, 
 
 And in the lap of Mary poured precious offering. 
 
 Now God be thanked, who gave us this day of all 
 
 the days, 
 When hand in hand the nations extol His matchless 
 
 ways ! 
 Ring out, glad bells, the story, the gfoddest of the 
 
 year ! 
 Sing out, glad souls, your carols, till earth and 
 
 heaven hear !
 
 I3 6 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 CHARGE OF THE MAINE REGIMENTS. 
 
 WHERE Rappahannock's waters roll 
 
 Adown Virginia's wasted plain, 
 Where seaward dash its troubled waves 
 
 To mingle with the angry main, 
 Brave Sedgwick with his gallant corps, 
 
 His war-bronzed corps of valiant men, 
 Marched proudly o'er the blood-stained way, 
 
 To meet the sturdy foe again. 
 " Charge for the guns, boys ! charge ! " he cried : 
 " Charge for your homes, your firesides free ! 
 Charge for your country's life and pride ! 
 
 Charge for the boon of liberty ! " 
 Then, dashing on, through shot and shell, 
 They nobly fought, or nobly fell. 
 
 First to storm the frowning earthworks, 
 Rushed the Sixth and Seventh Maine ; 
 
 While the whizzing balls and bullets 
 Showered down like autumn rain,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 137 
 
 On firm hands that trembled never, 
 
 On true hearts that would not quail ; 
 There was no weak arm to shudder, 
 
 No false voice to whisper "Fail." 
 Twice they charged in quick succession, 
 
 Twice, through galling murderous fire, 
 Twice repulsed, both horse and footman 
 
 Sought again the conflict dire ; 
 Till, every leader lying slain, 
 Alone they raised the flag again. 
 
 And gathering 'neath its shining folds, 
 
 They said, while smiled its cheering stars, 
 1 Boys, let us charge again, and hold 
 
 The works without our officers. 
 We'll bravely on, nor halt, nor turn ; 
 
 What though we fall ? we triumph still, 
 For every drop of blood we shed 
 
 Shall raise a host our ranks to fill. 
 On, then ! on, o'er the crimson field ! 
 On ! on ! through the blood of the slain ! 
 On ! on ! and the battlements gain 
 Heaven shall catch a gladsome strain ; 
 For joining we will send on high, 
 To God, our praise for victory."
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 Then on they sped, while cannons raged, 
 
 And belched their fury o'er their way, 
 Till on the works their banners waved 
 
 Through battle smoke that dimmed the day. 
 O Rappahannock ! gently roll 
 
 Your moaning billows to the sea ; 
 And ever let your murmured dirge 
 
 Rise upward for the fallen free ; 
 For those who, filled with holy zeal, 
 
 With love of country half divine, 
 Gave all their cherished hopes and joys, 
 
 As offerings for their country's shrine. 
 Then gently, river, roll your waves ; 
 Your banks are lined with sacred graves.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 139 
 
 THE BOY HERO'S MOTHER. 
 
 STRICKEN heart that throbs with grief, 
 By the waves of sorrow tossed, 
 Mourning for the early lost, 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 Hopes now wrecked upon the reef 
 Shall revive in endless love ; 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 Spirit bowed with crushing woe, 
 Light the darkest gloom enshrouds ; 
 Penetrate the battle clouds ! 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 Triumph follows Freedom's blow, 
 Sent from realms of endless love ; 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 Canst thou pierce the heavy gloom ? 
 Canst thou clasp the promise sealed 
 Righteous truth can never yield ! 
 Look above !
 
 140 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 'Round your hero's lowly tomb, 
 Glows the light of endless love ; 
 Look above ! 
 
 Young in years but strong in zeal, 
 Could he stand inactively 
 By the flag of Liberty? 
 
 Look above ! 
 Immortality shall seal 
 All his deeds in endless love ; 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 He, to right his country's wrong, 
 In the priceless hours of youth 
 Grasped the mighty sword of truth ;- 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 And, with soul-triumphant song, 
 Soared to realms of endless love ; 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 Higher service there is none 
 Than to save our Fatherland 
 From a vaunting traitor-band ; 
 Look above !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 141 
 
 Glory claims him for her own, 
 Twines his brow in endless love ; 
 Look above ! 
 
 One more sacrifice is given, 
 
 One more home is robbed of light, 
 
 Dwelling now in deepest night ; 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 Sacred ties on earth are riven ; 
 But abide in endless love ; 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 Waiting spirit, crushed and torn, 
 Drinking yet the cup of gall, 
 Or hast drained its marah all, 
 
 Look above ! 
 
 Soon beyond earth's sorrows borne 
 Thou shalt dwell in endless love ! 
 
 Look above !
 
 142 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 TOAST OF THE IRISH VOLUNTEER. 
 
 WHEN the Red, White and Blue was lowered 
 
 before us, 
 
 And trailed in the dust by an insolent foe, 
 When treacherous tongues in their threatening 
 
 chorus 
 
 Avowed it should e'er in dishonor lay low, 
 The bravest and best 
 Clasped its folds to their breast, 
 And swore to uplift it in glory again. 
 Then foremost were seen 
 The sons of the Green ; 
 Their hands they had laid on their new country's 
 
 altar, 
 
 Whose freedom had wooed them from Erin away, 
 In the Army and Navy, ah ! when did they falter? 
 Their praise is well sung on St. Phadrig's Day. 
 
 On mount Croagh Phadrig, the saint in whose favor 
 Each Irish heart struggles to dwell in the while
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 143 
 
 Spake words of such weight as to banish forever 
 The plagues that infested his beautiful isle. 
 A careful gleaning 
 Imparts us the meaning 
 
 That vices and wrongs were the evils he fought ; 
 A faint repetition 
 Of the honored tradition 
 We recently had in our own favored land, 
 
 When the grossest of crimes was wiped quite away 
 By our " Army and Navy," which ever will stand 
 A time-honored toast on St. Phadrig's Day. 
 
 Then long wave the Green ! it shall float with our 
 
 colors, 
 Since 'neath the Old Flag those who loved it have 
 
 died ; 
 Their hearts were with ours in our season of 
 
 dolors, 
 
 They shall still be with ours in the hour of our 
 pride. 
 
 So shall the sweet song 
 Of triumph belong 
 
 To the loyal and leal, be their clime what it will. 
 The Green and the White, 
 The Blue and the Bright,
 
 144 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Shall harmonize well in their kindred communion, 
 And flash into light though the morning be gray ; 
 
 And the " Army and Navy," the pride of the Union, 
 Be first on the toasts of St. Phadrig's Day.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 145 
 
 THE WELCOME GRAVE. 
 
 THROUGH all the long night, from the left to the 
 
 right 
 
 The war-cries of Freedom had pealed ; 
 But we watched on our arms, till the battle alarms 
 
 Had summoned us forth to the field. 
 In the thick wooded gorge we prepared for the 
 
 charge, 
 
 Strong and firm, not a battle-line swayed. 
 " On, and victory reap, on the rock-bounded steep! " 
 Said our chief ; not a man was dismayed. 
 
 Where our brave banner waves, 
 We will follow it well through the shot and the 
 shell, 
 
 Though to patriot graves. 
 
 Then we rushed on the foe, in an unbroken row, 
 
 That beautiful morning in June ; 
 While cheer after cheer, from the front to the rear, 
 
 Swept down through the open lagune ;
 
 146 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 The queen of the night, in her swift-going flight, 
 
 Had crossed o'er that white-tented lea ; 
 And dropping her gems, decked the leaf-enriched 
 
 stems 
 Of every flower and tree. 
 
 And the azure-hued skies 
 
 Kissed the fresh-growing earth into gladness and 
 mirth, 
 
 Like a new Paradise. 
 
 But for us not the sweet of the woodland retreat 
 
 Our orders, to conquer or die ! 
 So we proudly advanced, while the bright sunshine 
 
 danced 
 
 On our arms like a smile from on high ; 
 Then they poured on our ranks from the opposite 
 
 banks 
 
 The death-dealing missiles of war. 
 When a shell with a scream, and a quick angry 
 
 gleam, 
 Sunk down like an ill-omened star. 
 
 And our hearts throbbed with pain, 
 As we sighed for the braves doomed to cold lonely 
 graves, 
 
 On that desolate plain.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 147 
 
 'Twas a swift passing thought, and we poured the 
 
 red shot 
 
 And turned the cold steel on the foe. 
 Though they massed in their strength, they fell 
 
 broken at length, 
 
 Or fled to their strongholds below. 
 And we rested a pace from the wearisome chase, 
 
 And gazed o'er the crimson-stained field, 
 Where the brave-hearted dead had their sacred 
 
 blood shed, 
 And by the death-angel were sealed. 
 
 While away to the right 
 
 Were bits of the shell which so wrathfully fell ; 
 But no victims in sight. 
 
 Can worldly cares save in the peace of the grave ? 
 
 Can conflict its quiet molest ? 
 And anguish ah no ! so securely below, 
 
 From carnage, the hero found rest. 
 Not the calm peaceful rest which the perfectly blest 
 
 In the dreamless Forever have gained, 
 But a refuge from harm, which the triumphant arm 
 
 Of the angel of battle had deigned ;
 
 148 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL. DAY, 
 
 And in wonder we spoke, 
 For we felt in that hour the sovereign power 
 Of the aid we invoke. 
 
 The pickets who stood at the edge of the wood 
 
 In the dawn of the morning had seen 
 The dark forms of men emerged from the glen, 
 
 Through the white mists that gathered between ; 
 Then as suddenly halt where the blue smiling 
 
 vault 
 
 Of Heaven seemed close through the trees. 
 " We will bury him here, where the fragrant flowers 
 
 near 
 
 Will lavish their sweets on the breeze." 
 And they scooped a rude grave, 
 Ah ! above their wild dream, a power supreme 
 Through them purposed to save. 
 
 Ah ! we seem not to know that deep-hidden below 
 
 Our plans, are the workings divine 
 Of the spirit of light sent to guide us aright, 
 
 And justice with mercy combine. 
 And forget that the eye which afar from the 
 sky 
 
 Can see e'en the poor sparrow fall,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 149 
 
 Will endless watch keep, though we thoughtlessly 
 
 sleep, 
 And guide us through fears that appall ; 
 
 And when dangers have grown 
 So thick at our feet that there seems no retreat, 
 He will bear up His own.
 
 15 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 COMRADESHIP. 
 
 HAND in hand we wander, 
 Through the world together 
 In the sunny weather, 
 
 In the chilling showers ; 
 And what time we squander 
 In our simple pleasures, 
 We reclaim in treasures 
 
 From the working hours. 
 
 We have often tarried 
 In the fragrant meadows, 
 Or the grateful shadows 
 
 Of the silent wood ; 
 And the storms have parried, 
 Clinging closer ever, 
 Did the lightnings sever 
 
 Where we startled stood. 
 
 We have wanted little 
 Since the hour we started; 
 Very hopeful-hearted
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Have we ever gone ; 
 Though the merest tittle 
 Of the world's good treasure 
 Could we ever measure 
 
 For ourselves alone. 
 
 There are harder lessons 
 In a life to vex one 
 Than the pressing question 
 
 Of our daily bread ; 
 But the swift impressions 
 Of a willing spirit 
 Are the hands of merit 
 
 Spinning fortune's thread. 
 
 And it little matters 
 Where our earthly lot is, 
 If our only thought is 
 
 To be happy there ; 
 For the Sower scatters 
 Good in evil places, 
 And the true heart traces 
 
 Blessings everywhere.
 
 152 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 TWENTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 1865-1885. 
 
 I STAND and count the flying years upon my fingers, 
 
 thus : 
 
 Five, ten, fifteen, and twenty, an age it seems to us 
 Since, flinging down our haversacks, unstripping belt 
 
 and gun, 
 We bade good-bye to want and war that day at 
 
 Washington. 
 The bronze was in our faces and the sheen was in 
 
 our eyes, 
 Though the fighting had been awful, boys, this 
 
 fact we can't disguise ; 
 But we strode with sturdy paces, and our hearts 
 
 were all aglow, 
 For Youth and Love they beckoned us just twenty 
 
 years ago. 
 
 Now, we scan each others' faces to see if we can tell 
 'Neath bleaching locks, the boyish traits we learned 
 to love so well,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 153 
 
 Or can tell the slender comrade, the rollicking, the 
 
 gay, 
 
 In that doughty dignitary who steps so slow to-day ; 
 To learn if live the gallant boys who laughed at 
 
 Rebel lead, 
 
 If there were any foes to fight, or any fun ahead, 
 Who knew the sign and countersign, and gave the 
 
 quick hollo, 
 When prowling round the picket-line yes, twenty 
 
 years ago. 
 
 And how have gone the years with you, O comrades 
 
 tried and true, 
 Since laying down the musket and casting off the 
 
 blue? 
 And where is pitched your bivouac ? Who messes 
 
 with you now ? 
 And are you training new recruits to toe the mark ? 
 
 And how 
 Are rations with you, comrades ? What, a little 
 
 short, you say ? 
 Though you forage late and early, your prizes slip 
 
 away?
 
 154 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 But you camp in snugger quarters, aye, comrades, 
 
 this we know, 
 Than when wrapped within your blankets more 
 
 than twenty years ago. 
 
 Hark! hark! Yon mighty rumbling! Again and 
 
 yet again ! 
 What mean those angry echoes in the piney woods 
 
 of Maine ? 
 'Tis not the rolling tempest, the crash of rudders 
 
 dashed 
 
 Against the grinding granite, the forelands ocean- 
 lashed ! 
 'Tis not the wrath of earthquakes come creeping 
 
 through the seas, 
 From the ragings of Vesuvius, the battered walls 
 
 of Greece ! 
 Boom ! boom ! The valleys tremble, the hills are 
 
 rocking low : 
 It is the blast of Battle four-and-twenty years ago ! 
 
 Boom ! boom ! The guns of Sumter are thundering 
 
 at our doors, 
 Above the beetling breakers the tide of battle pours ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 155 
 
 The oath of War is spoken, from mouth to mouth 
 
 it runs, 
 
 And over in Skowhegan the women man the guns. 
 Boom! boom! It is the call for me, it is the call for 
 
 you ! 
 Boom ! boom ! for men of mettle to don the Union 
 
 blue; 
 
 The long-roll it is sounding, it wakened with a blow 
 The bivouac of ages four-and-twenty years ago ! 
 
 Swing out your flags, O comrades, and keep your 
 
 paces true, 
 For Freedom calls for valiant men when she has 
 
 work to do ! 
 Lo, there are mothers praying and wives to speak 
 
 " Good cheer," 
 And there are children pleading God grant the 
 
 end be near ! 
 And there are comrades dying, their whispers thrill 
 
 us yet, 
 O mute and mournful memories we never can 
 
 forget ! 
 " Go, tell her that her flag and mine I saved ere 
 
 stricken low, "
 
 156 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Ah, comrades ! sad the messages of twenty years 
 ago ! 
 
 Let others sing the songs of War : we sing the 
 
 songs of Peace ; 
 The splendors of the battle pale before such thoughts 
 
 as these ; 
 For ours was not the march of hate, of devastating 
 
 band, 
 To set the falcons of despoil a-flying through the 
 
 land; 
 We knew no braggart boast of arms, we had no 
 
 wish to roam, 
 Our feet sped on where duty called, our hearts were 
 
 still at home ; 
 On weary march, in dreary camp, our ranks were 
 
 all aglow, 
 If but the mails a letter brought aye, twenty 
 
 years ago. 
 
 O comrades, hand-in-hand upon the headland heights 
 
 of Maine 
 The State that never lost a flag, that never charged 
 
 in vain,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 157 
 
 What see you on the Westward line ? What see 
 
 you at the South, 
 Where June is wreathing roses within the cannon's 
 
 mouth ? 
 What see you there at Gettysburg ? The brooding 
 
 wings of Love, 
 
 The violets a-blowing the Blue and Gray above ! 
 Span mountain unto mountain, link vale to vale, 
 
 and lo, 
 It is the Arch of Peace we fashioned twenty 
 
 years ago ! 
 
 O Nation great, State linked to State in bonds that 
 
 none can break, 
 From Ocean unto Ocean, from Gulf to Northern 
 
 lake ! 
 State linked to State, fate linked to fate, in mart 
 
 and mint and mine, 
 In rolling plain of golden grain, in toss of plumy 
 
 pine ! 
 State linked to State in goodly fate that sounds the 
 
 swift advance, 
 Where banners that have wooed the world before 
 
 our legions dance !
 
 I5 8 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 This is the dream that crowns our years; and when 
 
 our heads are low, 
 Float out, float on, O Union flag, as twenty years 
 
 ago !
 
 PART II. 
 
 OTHER POEMS.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 161 
 
 PRISCILLA, AQUILA, AND PAUL. 
 
 METHOUGHT on Corinth's citadel 
 
 I gazed far down the strand, 
 Where, twice a thousand feet below, 
 
 The fair fleets sail and land ; 
 And half across the Isthmian plain 
 
 The mountain shadows chase 
 And clasp a thousand domes and towers 
 
 Within their close embrace. 
 
 I looked; and lo, three other forms 
 
 Beside me on the wall : 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one, 
 
 And one the saintly Paul. 
 
 They stood and viewed the stately ships 
 Come back from Tyre and Rome, 
 
 The black-prowed argosies from Ind 
 Bear gold and spices home ; 
 
 I saw them scan the western shores 
 Where high Parnassus shines,
 
 162 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Above the Delphian oracles, 
 Above the Delphian shrines. 
 
 " O Christ, be pitiful to these ! " 
 They said, both one and all : 
 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one, 
 And one the saintly Paul. 
 
 Unto the East I saw them turn, 
 
 And gaze with wondering eyes, 
 Where, gleaming on the Athenian heights, 
 
 Minerva's altars rise ; 
 Where, on the bay, fair Athens lifts 
 
 Her temples to the sun, 
 And, thither pointing, Paul relates 
 
 The mighty works there done ; 
 How on the summit of Mars' Hill, 
 
 Beneath Minerva's throne, 
 He mocked the wrath of all the gods, 
 
 Proclaiming ONE UNKNOWN. 
 
 They bowed their heads and blessed His 
 name 
 
 Who loves both great and small : 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one. 
 
 And one the saintly Pam.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 163 
 
 Below us the Saronic gulf 
 
 Lay dimpling in the sun, 
 Her fertile islands reaching down 
 
 Unto the fair Colonne ; 
 To right of us Lepanto laughs 
 
 Beside the Sicyon shore ; 
 And all between, the olive yards, 
 
 And vineyards purpling o'er, 
 And lemon groves, and citron, 
 
 And orange rows and corn, 
 And Cyprus for the Isthmian crowns 
 
 Of heroes newly born. 
 
 " // ts a plenteous land and fair" 
 
 They spake, both one and all : 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one, 
 
 And one the saintly Paul. 
 
 There, Neptune's mighty colonnades 
 
 Above the Stadium rise, 
 Where Greece sends down her knightliest 
 youths 
 
 To struggle for the prize ; 
 And there, upreaching step by step, 
 
 The Theatre of stone,
 
 164 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 And hugging close the Isthmic wall 
 
 The tower of Palaemon. 
 It is a goodly sight, I ween, 
 
 This city of two seas 
 A queen between two lovers set 
 
 The citadel of Greece. 
 
 "May Christ pour out his spirit here,' 
 They prayed, both one and all : 
 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one, 
 And one the saintly Paul. 
 
 Then spake the great Apostle: 
 
 "Across yon liquid blue 
 There rise as glorious cities 
 
 As any now we view ; 
 As precious to that Saviour 
 
 Who said, ' Go, tell of me 
 Unto all climes and kingdoms 
 
 In lands beyond the sea.' 
 Now ye, most wise Priscilla, 
 
 And Aquila, go with me ; 
 That even there at Ephesus, 
 
 As here at Corinth, we
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 165 
 
 May name the name of Jesus 
 
 Where great Diana's shrined, 
 Till the ashes of her temples 
 
 Shall be scattered with the wind." 
 
 I heard the twain take up their vows 
 
 Unto the solemn call : 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one, 
 
 And one the saintly Paul. 
 
 And now from busy Cenchrea, 
 
 Fair Corinth's strong right arm, 
 Where Phebe and the brethren give 
 
 A God-speed, sad but warm, 
 Across the ^gean waters blue, 
 
 Among her thousand isles, 
 They sail, and sail, until beyond 
 
 The Ephesian harbor smiles 
 Diana's glittering colonnade 
 
 Reflecting back the sun 
 From capitols and cornices 
 
 And friezes one by one. 
 
 And there from house to house they taught 
 The people one and all :
 
 166 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one, 
 And one the saintly Paul. 
 
 O Paul ! beneath thy rods and stripes, 
 
 In perils on the deep, 
 In perils from an hundred ills 
 
 That slumber not nor sleep, 
 In weariness and watch ings, 
 
 In hungerings oft, and thirst, 
 In nakedness, in agony, 
 
 From unbelief accursed, 
 How blessed in such love to share, 
 
 Such home thy home to call, 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one, 
 
 And one the saintly Paul. 
 
 God only knoweth all they wrought 
 
 In that Ephesian town 
 Priscilla and Aquila 
 
 Beloved in renown ; 
 Now toiling on with busy hands, 
 
 Now jeopardizing all, 
 Instructors of Apollos, 
 
 Co-laborers with Paul ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 167 
 
 God only knoweth how at Rome 
 They cheered the martyr's heart, 
 
 Now ready to be offered 
 
 In that clamorous Roman mart. 
 
 Methinks the three together walked 
 
 Beyond that city's wall : 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one, 
 
 And one the saintly Paul. 
 
 At Rome, upon the Ostian way 
 
 Caius Cestus' tomb 
 Still lifts its lofty cenotaph 
 
 Above the surrounding gloom ; 
 And thence down all the centuries 
 
 Has come the Martyr's plea : 
 " Priscilla greet, Aquila greet, 
 
 Ye churches yet to be!" 
 
 They bore his body thence with tears, 
 
 When he had suffered all : 
 Priscilla one, Aquila one, 
 
 And one the martyred Paul. 
 
 Again on Corinth's mount I stand 
 And view the lands below :
 
 1 68 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 The idol temples in the dust 
 Are crumbled long ago ; 
 
 And where the three together stood 
 A thousand thousand stand, 
 
 And sail and sail to golden shores 
 Beyond the Ephesian strand. 
 
 But still we hear the voice of Paul 
 
 Unto all people call : 
 " Priscilla greet, Aquila greet, 
 
 That Christ be all in all"
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 169 
 
 THE COMING OF THE MAY. 
 
 WITH the early dawn I'm waking, 
 
 And joy is in the air ; 
 The song of birds is breaking 
 
 The silence everywhere ; 
 And my heart is full of longing 
 
 I cannot all allay, 
 In dear old haunts to welcome 
 
 The coming of the May. 
 
 In those rare enchanted orchards 
 
 Where peach 'and apple bloom 
 Are filling all the long bright hours 
 
 With delicate perfume, 
 Or within the grand old forests 
 
 Where sun and shadow play, 
 'Twere very sweet again to greet 
 
 The coming of the May. 
 
 There are such countless treasures 
 In forests far away
 
 170 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 The starry-eyed anemones, 
 
 And lady-slippers gay ; 
 And I can tell the very spot 
 
 Where orchids hide away 
 Their pretty precious faces 
 
 Till the coming of the May. 
 
 I know just where the violets 
 
 Bloom in the meadow hedge, 
 And where the pink arbutus trails 
 
 Adown the river ledge ; 
 Where trilliums and blue-bells low 
 
 Are bowing all the day, 
 To welcome with their dainty grace 
 
 The coming of the May. 
 
 And the slopes upon the hilltops 
 
 Where grows the mountain tea, 
 Where sassafras and birch abound, 
 
 Are known so well to me ; 
 And the bends of brook and river 
 
 Where trout and turtle stay, 
 And mussel-shells gleam whitely 
 
 In the coming of the May.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Where the robin is a-singing, 
 
 'Twere joy again to go 
 I've heard sometimes a music 
 
 In the cawing of the crow 
 Where the bobolink is trilling 
 
 His merry roundelay, 
 For all glad things are gladder 
 
 In the corning of the May. 
 
 Yet I, my feet returning 
 
 To childhood's haunts again, 
 Might find them very barren 
 
 And strangely full of pain ; 
 The forms that wandered with me 
 
 Would be shadows in the way, 
 And my heart might e'en be heavy 
 
 In the coming of the May. 
 
 But, with earnest, eager longing 
 
 I cannot well define, 
 I'm turning to the meadows, 
 
 The woods of birch and pine. 
 Ah Memory, be kind to me ! 
 
 Let all else fade away, 
 But spare my heart its rapture 
 
 In the coming of the May !
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 SWEET CHARITY. 
 
 THREE stately forms rode down the street, 
 Rode down on palfreys three : 
 
 And one was Faith, and one was Hope, 
 And one was Charity. 
 
 And Faith, upon her blood-red steed, 
 Was girt with bow and spear ; 
 
 And Hope her charger dark as night 
 Urged on with words of cheer. 
 
 But bending o'er a snowy mane 
 There beamed most graciously 
 
 The saintly face and saintly smile 
 Of blessed Charity. 
 
 Come ride with me," now one and all, 
 
 They spake with one accord ; 
 And Faith cried, "Don your panoply," 
 
 And Hope held out reward.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 173 
 
 But bending from her milk-white steed, 
 A voice came soft to me 
 
 And said, "My child, you're sick and sore- 
 Come ride with Charity." 
 
 She drew me to her saddle bow 
 
 And clasped me with a smile, 
 And pressed unto her heart we rode 
 
 Through many a weary mile ; 
 
 Through bands of fierce and boisterous men, 
 With garments dashed with blood ; 
 
 Through noisy streets, and angry marts, 
 And charges like a flood. 
 
 And Faith urged on the mighty men 
 
 Who fight with spear and bow, 
 And Hope the holy men who do 
 
 The joy of giving know. 
 
 But Charity stooped down to lift 
 
 The beggar to his feet, 
 And in her train a weary host 
 
 Of pilgrim souls to greet.
 
 174 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 We rode until we came unto 
 
 A gleaming jasper gate, 
 There Faith flings down her battered shield, 
 
 And all expectant wait. 
 
 The gleaming gate is open swung, 
 
 And lo, an angel see, 
 Who sweetly calls: " Now welcome Faith, 
 
 And Hope, and Charity! 
 
 " And who are these ye bring to me 
 From that far world and drear ? " 
 And Faith said: " Lo, the saints who strove 
 To gain an entrance here." 
 
 And Hope with radiant smile spake out : 
 " Behold the godly men 
 Who for the rich rewards have deemed 
 Their fifty years as ten." 
 
 But Charity said: "These are they 
 Whose lives were lone and sad ; 
 
 No joy had they in striving, 
 And no rewards they had."
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 175 
 
 The jasper gates were opened wide, 
 
 They entered great and small ; 
 And Faith upon her blood-red steed 
 
 Stood guard beside the wall. 
 
 And Hope with face uplifted 
 
 Extended beckoning hand 
 Unto the distant pilgrims 
 
 Who sought the golden land. 
 
 But midst the throng expectant, 
 
 The milk-white steed alone 
 Strode through the gates of jasper 
 
 Unto the great white throne. 
 
 Then from the veil of splendor 
 
 A voice was heard to say: 
 'All hail thou well-beloved, 
 
 Thou hast been long away ! " 
 
 When from the milk-white palfrey 
 
 The gracious rider sprung, 
 I saw the hands were pierced 
 
 To which I'd fondly clung.
 
 176 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 And thus I know if Heaven's gate 
 
 Shall ope for you and me, 
 'Twill be through God's Incarnate Love 
 
 We name sweet Charity.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 177 
 
 MARGUERITE. 
 
 LIKE a glad bride asleep 
 
 In robes of white, 
 Earth smiles ; and yet I keep 
 
 Sad watch to-night, 
 Saying, "Marguerite, 
 Ma petite Marguerite, 
 
 When in that fair, far country shall we meet, 
 Marguerite ? " 
 
 I waken with the dawn 
 And say, " Her eyes 
 Look from wide windows on 
 
 The dear South- skies, 
 Where, calling, 'Marguerite, 
 Ma petite Marguerite/ 
 She flung white oleanders at my feet, 
 Marguerite ! " 
 
 O fair child of the sun, 
 Can I say, Come,
 
 178 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Where skies are chill and dun ? 
 
 My heart grows dumb ! 
 Oh, speak, Marguerite, 
 Ma petite, Marguerite, 
 
 Can love make all climes beautiful and sweet, 
 Marguerite ?
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 179 
 
 O FRIEND OF MINE. 
 
 MY thoughts to thee, O friend of mine, 
 
 Are ever going, 
 Like the glad rills that, singing through the pine, 
 
 Are swiftly flowing; 
 Bearing the soft perfume 
 Of fir and lily bloom, 
 
 Unto the river, 
 And with a thousand sweets, 
 From love-enthroned retreats 
 
 Enamored quiver. 
 
 My life with thine, O friend of mine, 
 
 Is surely blending 
 Like the glad rill that, singing from the pine 
 
 Finds joyful ending. 
 Oh, that the kindly sun 
 Would keep us two in one, 
 
 Love-bound forever ! 
 Oh, that the kindly breeze, 
 Would kiss us to the seas, 
 
 Parted, oh, never !
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 TURN O'ER A NEW LEAF. 
 
 THE last page you've written is crumpled and 
 
 blurred, 
 
 The prints of soiled fingers are plain; 
 Your letters misshapen, your syllables slurred, 
 
 Show the copy was followed in vain ; 
 But pray do not lift a disconsolate face, 
 
 Nor yield to a profitless grief, 
 But gather fresh courage, look shame in the face 
 Turn o'er a new leaf ! 
 
 How shining and bright ! How spotless and pure ! 
 
 How plain is the copy to view ! 
 Now steady and slow ! As you start you are sure 
 
 The rest of your task to pursue. 
 The Master stands near ; He will come at your call, 
 
 If perchance you may need His relief ; 
 His voice it is speaking to one and to all 
 " Turn o'er a new leaf ! "
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 181 
 
 WATCHING FOR ME AT THE WINDOW. 
 
 WATCHING for me at the window 
 Through ringlets of flossy gold, 
 
 With the roses clasped in his fingers 
 As only a child may hold ; 
 
 And his eyes like the laughing bluebells 
 That dance in the dusky wold. 
 
 Watching for me at the window, 
 
 O sweetest of baby boys, 
 Forgetting his gleesome frolic, 
 
 Forgetting his treasured toys! 
 O rarest of budding roses, 
 
 O dearest of earthly joys ! 
 
 Watching for me at the window ; 
 
 But oh, it is far and high, 
 And my feet they are weary of climbing 
 
 Since my darling no longer is nigh ; 
 With his eyes that are glad at my coming, 
 
 And his voice that responds to my cry.
 
 182 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Watching for me at the window, 
 O darling, I hasten to thee, 
 
 As up from the din of the city 
 In the days I may nevermore see ; 
 
 To clasp thee again to my bosom, 
 In the Heaven that waits for me.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 183 
 
 A NEW YEAR'S WISH. 
 
 ACROSS the solemn spaces of the years 
 How sweet to hear the voices that we knew 
 When life had less of sorrows than of tears, 
 And fewer hearts were sad and more were true ! 
 Then take we gladder hope to us again, 
 For who shall say that all our past is vain, 
 While one sweet soul esteems our little worth, 
 And singles us from all the good of earth 
 For kindly greeting as the days go by ? 
 O friend of mine, whose rare fidelity 
 Stands sentinel at Friendship's holy shrine, 
 Lest care and change dissever souls at one, 
 The Lord keep watch between us, mine and thine, 
 Till night is gone and golden dawn begun !
 
 184 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 STARRY WITNESSES. 
 
 ON the hill and in the green, 
 
 Through the dewy meadow, 
 Underneath the feet of men, 
 
 In the sun and shadow, 
 Lo, she lifteth up her face 
 
 To each rival comer, 
 Dandelion, crown and grace 
 
 Of the perfect Summer. 
 
 Who hath sent thee, starry one, 
 
 With thy faith and meekness, 
 And thy lessons to out-run 
 
 Thoughts of human weakness ? 
 Who hath set thee in the way 
 
 Of the faint and weary, 
 Just to teach that beauty may 
 
 Bloom where all is dreary ? 
 
 Who hath said : " O flower, go 
 To my sons and daughters,
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 185 
 
 Tell them there is room to grow, 
 
 Down by many waters ; 
 That if crowded from the plain 
 
 To the lane and by-way, 
 They may lift their heads again, 
 
 Brave as on the highway." 
 
 There is One who knoweth well 
 
 Human hearts are breaking, 
 Knoweth more than we can tell 
 
 Of their silent aching : 
 And along the rugged ways 
 
 Tender tokens giveth ; 
 Starry witnesses give praise 
 
 That Our Father liveth.
 
 186 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 WOOD VIOLETS. 
 
 VIOLETS, my violets, 
 
 Springing from the mould, 
 From the star-grass and the mosses 
 
 Of the woodland dim and old ; 
 Sweet the stories you are telling 
 
 Of the fading, happy years, 
 When the loves were young that vanished 
 
 Long ago in mists and tears. 
 
 Violets, my violets, 
 
 Gazing, I a moment go 
 Where the moist sweet woody odors 
 
 All around me breathe and blow ; 
 Where the bluebells dip their clusters, 
 
 And the purple orchids hide ; 
 And, with heart grown strangely happy, 
 
 Fling my burdens all aside. 
 
 Violets, my violets, 
 
 There was once a child that flew
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 187 
 
 Through the depths of field and forest, 
 
 Searching patiently for you ; 
 And that child who now so wearies 
 
 Of the fairest thing that grows, 
 Once grew wild with rapture finding 
 
 But a single woodland rose. 
 
 Violets, my violets, 
 
 If you knew how dark and chill 
 All our fair young world is growing, 
 
 Could you bloom so lovely still ? 
 Could you waken hopes that, flying, 
 
 Swiftly fall with broken wings, 
 If you knew a time of dying 
 
 Stills the sweetest voice that sings ? 
 
 Violets, my violets, 
 
 It is but a little boon : 
 Bend your kindly eyes above me, 
 
 When I go, or late, or soon; 
 And perchance some sad one going 
 
 Through the forests of the dead, 
 Shall remember where I'm sleeping, 
 
 By the violets at my head.
 
 1 88 
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL- DAY, 
 
 THE OLD GNARLED APPLE-TREE. 
 
 OF all the childish memories 
 
 That brighten with the flying years, 
 And bring a gladness to the eyes 
 
 Like laughter coming after tears, 
 There's none that makes the heart bound on 
 
 With all its youthful jollity, 
 Like that sweet vision of the lawn 
 
 The old gnarled apple-tree. 
 
 It stood just where the lawn swept down 
 
 Into a rapid, steep descent, 
 Beneath each stately neighbor's frown, 
 
 A placid picture of content ; 
 And let the years bring what they would, 
 
 The orchards bare or burdened be, 
 Abundant fruit it bore and good 
 
 The old gnarled apple-tree.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 189 
 
 'Twas said that many years agone 
 
 A sad-faced lady, with her child, 
 Came unattended and alone, 
 
 And dwelt within the western wild ; 
 She by the simple people round 
 
 Was more than human deemed to be ; 
 Her saintly hand placed in the ground 
 
 The old gnarled apple-tree. 
 
 The woman seemed half happy grown ; 
 
 The child was desolate and sad, 
 The flowers and the birds had flown 
 
 The only playmates that he had ; 
 And so one day, in wanton play, 
 
 He ran with rude and reckless glee ; 
 One tender sapling broken lay 
 
 The old gnarled apple-tree. 
 
 The woman bound it with a tear, 
 And blessed it in her saintly way ; 
 
 And that is why from year to year, 
 As I have heard the people say, 
 
 The springtime always brings her bloom, 
 The summer fruitage fair to see,
 
 190 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 To crown with plenty and perfume 
 The old gnarled apple-tree. 
 
 All glad things loved the dear old tree ; 
 
 And early came the screaming jay 
 The robin and the honey-bee, 
 
 And children laughing in the way ; 
 And in the dawn and in the dew 
 
 Arose a joyous melody 
 The praiseful song of Nature to 
 
 The old gnarled apple-tree. 
 
 My little sister, fair and sweet, 
 
 Now sadly far from me, alas ! 
 'Twas only yesterday our feet 
 
 Slipped softly through the dewy grass; 
 Slipped through the grass, and through the gloom, 
 
 And wild with merriment and glee 
 We filled our wide-spread aprons from 
 
 The old gnarled apple-tree ! 
 
 Do I but wander? When alone 
 
 My life grows young and glad and warm ; 
 The dearest joys the heart has known 
 
 Are void of earthly shape and form.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Then fly, my soul, and clasp again 
 The sacred sweets of memory ! 
 
 The fondest loves of youth enchain 
 The old gnarled apple-tree !
 
 192 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 A FRIEND'S SOUVENIR. 
 
 YOUR little gift-box, dear, I own, 
 
 With all the treasures in it ; 
 But fairer far the face that shone 
 
 On me one little minute 
 That glad and gracious face that makes 
 
 The dimmest place seem cheery, 
 And takes away a thousand aches 
 
 From hearts grown sick or weary. 
 
 I do remember how a hand 
 
 Stole tenderly unto me, 
 One hour when care's acute command 
 
 Had sent a shiver through me ; 
 I do remember how that thrill 
 
 Of speechless consolation 
 Keeps all my pulses bounding still 
 
 In silent exaltation. 
 
 Sweet friend, thy beauty is of God, 
 To bless and cheer and brighten ;
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 193 
 
 A bounteous sun to fling abroad 
 The hopes that help and lighten ; 
 
 Thy heart a well-spring full and strong 
 A fount of generous feeling ; 
 
 Thy soul a happy bird of song 
 Toward which our loves are stealing.
 
 194 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 WHAT DO THE ROSES SAY? 
 
 WHAT do the roses say, love, my love, 
 
 Glad as the morning and fair as the South ? 
 
 Bend to me fondly the rose-red leaves 
 Of your rose-red mouth ! 
 
 What do the roses say, sweet, my sweet, 
 Light as the zephyrs and bright as the dawn ? 
 
 Summer is beckoning, youth is fleet, 
 Let love love on ! 
 
 What do the roses say, dear, my dear, 
 Pale and dewy and blood-red all ? 
 
 Stay me with kisses, the night is anear, 
 And the rose leaves fall ! 
 
 What do the roses say, heart, my heart, 
 Proud, impatient, and tossed with doubt ? 
 
 Bloom and beauty from life may part, 
 But life lengthens out !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 195 
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 O THE visions that the night brings, 
 O the fluttering of white wings, 
 O benignant eyes and beautiful that down upon us 
 
 bend ! 
 
 O the hum of happy voices, 
 O the glad throng that rejoices, 
 When the visions of the midnight bring the absent 
 friend to friend ! 
 
 O the dainty feet that find me, 
 O the dimpled arms that bind me, 
 Of the little love that softly from the star-land comes 
 
 to me ! 
 
 O the gladness, past revealing, 
 Filling soul and heart and feeling, 
 When upon my yearning bosom she is sleeping 
 peacefully ! 
 
 Ah, how sweet to know this dreaming 
 Is a glimpse, a twilight gleaming,
 
 196 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Of the beauty and the glory of the heaven we adore ; 
 And the faces which behold us, 
 And the arms that fondly fold us, 
 
 Are the faces and embraces of the loved ones gone 
 before. 
 
 O the comfort that the night brings, 
 O the fluttering of white wings, 
 O benignant eyes and beautiful that down upon us 
 
 bend! 
 
 O the hum of happy voices, 
 O the glad throng that rejoices, 
 When the visions of the midnight bring the absent 
 friend to friend !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 197 
 
 THE FIRST CROCUS. 
 
 Do you know where the crocus blows ? 
 
 Under the snows ; 
 
 Wide-eyed and winsome and daintily fair 
 As waxen exotic close-tended and rare ; 
 
 Every child knows 
 
 Where the first crocus blows. 
 
 Do you know why the crocus grows 
 
 Under the snows ? 
 
 To tell that the winter is over and gone, 
 And soon bird and blossom will gladden the lawn 
 
 And the hedge- rows 
 
 Where the first crocus blows. 
 
 Do you know when the crocus grows 
 
 Under the snows ? 
 
 When little ones sleep in their warm downy beds, 
 With mother -hands smoothing their dear curly 
 heads ; 
 
 While the storm goes 
 
 Where the first crocus blows.
 
 198 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 Do you know while the crocus grows 
 
 Under the snows, 
 
 That One smileth softly and says, " I will send 
 This promise that all stormy times have an end. 
 
 So our Lord knows 
 
 Where the first crocus blows.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 199 
 
 MARION. 
 
 OH, have you seen my Marion, 
 Sweet summer breezes, flying far 
 From sun to sun, from star to star ? 
 Have ye caressed her soft brown hair, 
 And kissed her feet and white arms bare ? 
 Then whither, tell me, hath she flown, 
 My little one, my love, my own 
 My Marion ! 
 
 My pretty blue-eyed Marion, 
 Whose small white hands swept o'er my face 
 With such a dainty, tender grace, 
 Who slept so softly on my breast, 
 And woke, a glad bird from her nest; 
 Bear ye no message, breezes, say, 
 From her I mourn both night and day 
 My Marion ! 
 
 Have ye not seen my Marion, 
 O sunbeams as ye dancing go 
 From fields of bloom to peaks of snow?
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY. 
 
 She passed so quickly from my sight, 
 My poor, sad eyes were dazzled quite, 
 And but a moment could I see 
 The white host bearing her from me 
 My Marion ! 
 
 O little, loving Marion ! 
 Is it in kingdoms far away 
 You wait for me both night and day ? 
 Is it in lands beyond the sun, 
 In groves of spice and cinnamon ? 
 Is it in gardens glad with bloom, 
 And redolent with sweet perfume 
 My Marion ? 
 
 Ah, dimpled, darling Marion ! 
 I fain would be the one to meet 
 Your tiny, tottering, tipsy feet ; 
 I fain would run with outstretched arms, 
 To soothe your childish, sweet alarms ; 
 Would smoothe your skirts and comb your hair, 
 And rock you in the glad blue air 
 My Marion !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 O laughing, lisping Marion ! 
 When I on some autumnal morn 
 Go through the vales of tasseled corn, 
 And purpling vines and bending trees, 
 And singing birds and humming bees, 
 Shall I not in some secret place 
 Behold you, darling, face to face 
 My Marion ? 
 
 O pure and patient Marion ! 
 Or child, or maid, when all is done, 
 Your face will be the same sweet one ; 
 The shy, glad welcome in your eyes, 
 My dream fulfilled of Paradise ! 
 But now, oh, whither have you flown, 
 My little one, my love, my own 
 My Marion !
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 MY NAMESAKE. 
 
 WITH the sunshine and the flowers, 
 With the sweets of summer showers, 
 With the daisies and the dew, 
 With the violets so blue ; 
 With the shy forget-me-not 
 Hiding in sequestered spot ; 
 In the arms of kindly Fate, 
 Came our darling Baby Kate. 
 
 When she came, the Sunshine said : 
 I will crown her dainty head 
 With the finest threads they spin 
 In the realms Elysian ; " 
 Said the Violets : " Her eyes 
 Shall reflect our fairest dyes ; " 
 While the Lily and the Rose 
 On her cheeks and lips repose ; 
 And the Zephyrs dancing wait 
 On the steps of Baby Kate.
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 203 
 
 Child of sunshine and of flowers, 
 Child of sweetest summer showers, 
 Bud and blossom into bloom, 
 Fill our lives with glad perfume. 
 Thou the fairest thing that blows, 
 Be it lily, be it rose ; 
 On thy dawning life we wait, 
 Dainty, darling Baby Kate !
 
 204 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 FRATERNITY, CHARITY, LOYALTY. 
 
 SEARCH each comrade's heart, and there, 
 Graven with the tenderest care, 
 You will find these letters three 
 Linked in blessed trinity, 
 Honored, lov.ed, and heeded well, 
 Honored more than tongue can tell, 
 Golden are they F., C., L. 
 
 Great is this Fraternity 
 Brooding o'er the flight of years, 
 Born of love for you and me, 
 Born of battle and of tears ; 
 These are they who stood the test 
 When the charging columns prest 
 Won their 'fame, and are at rest. 
 
 Charity ! a gracious spell 
 Wrought in days of doom and dread, 
 When they stooped to hearken well 
 What a dying comrade said
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 205 
 
 For the wives and orphans far, 
 Shivering in the blasts of war ; 
 For the shattered ones that are. 
 
 Loyalty ! 'twas theirs to show 
 What are faith and fealty, 
 Upward where the bugles blow 
 On the heights of Victory ; 
 Upward from the gloom of night, 
 From the clamor of the fight, 
 To the blaze of Freedom's light. 
 
 Comrades ye whose hearts are sealed 
 
 To the glorious trinity 
 
 We our reverent homage yield, 
 
 Lift the hat and bend the knee ! 
 
 Honor to whom honor's due, 
 
 Honor to the loyal Blue, 
 
 Honor, love, from me and you !
 
 206 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 THE POET'S WORLD. 
 
 THE poet rose, his heart was light, 
 He journeyed with the sun ; 
 
 He blessed the golden day ; at night 
 He hailed the dark begun ; 
 
 Because, you see, his heart was light 
 His life was in its sun. 
 
 The poet said : " A fairer world 
 
 Lies just beyond my ken ; 
 Methinks I see its flags unfurled, 
 
 Its royal ranks of men." 
 His hope it was the poet's world, 
 
 His sight the poet's ken. 
 
 But when long days he walked alone, 
 And saw the world the same 
 
 But that the hills were higher grown, 
 And that his feet were lame, 
 
 He wondered : " Is the world so lone, 
 Or is my heart the same ? "
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 And so he sat him down and wept, 
 His days they were so sad, 
 
 And wondered if the friends he left 
 Were feeling quite as bad ; 
 
 You see, the poet when he wept 
 Thought all the world was sad. 
 
 And then the poet turned him round, 
 And vowed no more to roam ; 
 
 No fairer country had he found 
 Than that he left at home, 
 
 As things will ever come around 
 To those who vow to roam. 
 
 The poet's heart is mine to-day ; 
 
 And thus it is I know 
 There are no happier scenes than lay 
 
 Around the Long Ago ; 
 The poet's heart mine own to-day, 
 
 This truth I feel and know. 
 
 No friends so true, no eyes so kind, 
 
 No life so sweet and fair, 
 As in the days we left behind, 
 
 The days so free from care;
 
 208 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL -DAY, 
 
 The fealty and the faith so kind, 
 The life so wondrous fair. 
 
 Heaven rest the poet's faithful heart, 
 Heaven rest his soul and mine, 
 
 And give us all when far apart 
 This comfort all divine : 
 
 That Heaven will rest the faithful heart, 
 * This soul of mine and thine !
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 209 
 
 HE LEADETH ME. 
 
 NOT always through the meadows fair and wide, 
 
 In peaceful valley and by sunlit sea, 
 Not always where the quiet waters glide, 
 He leadeth me. 
 
 Nay, oft the paths are perilous and steep ; 
 
 Nay, oft below the waves beat angrily ; 
 Nay, oft through shadows where I pausing weep 
 He leadeth me. 
 
 Once, all the days in merriment went by, 
 
 And all the nights in idle revelry ; 
 I lived to laugh, and, laughing, mocked the cry 
 " He leadeth me ! " 
 
 O sweet, sweet wealth of life ! " I woke to say, 
 
 And bound my girdle for the rounds of glee ; 
 And would not heed Him pleading in the way, 
 Who leadeth me.
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY. 
 
 The morning shadows fled across the plain, 
 
 The noontide burned, my feet sank wearily ; 
 He turned and left me blinded in my pain, 
 Who leadeth me. 
 
 All day upon the withered earth I lay, 
 
 O cruel Earth, that erst so kind could be ! 
 And scarce I heard the whispered message say, 
 " He leadeth me." 
 
 All day the sun consumed me with his flame, 
 
 O hateful sun, once beautiful to see ! 
 Upon my burning brow the impress came : 
 " He leadeth me." 
 
 I saw it on the grasses bowed and bent, 
 And in the lightnings flashing angrily, 
 And on the storm-clouds black and thunder-rent 
 " He leadeth me." 
 
 O thou Supreme ! " I said, " on sea and land, 
 
 Whose mighty face for shame I may not see, 
 Vouchsafe but this : one pressure of the hand 
 That leadeth me ! "
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 And softly through the gloom it clasped my own, 
 
 And raised me gently to my bended knee ; 
 I rose, and saw the halo from Him thrown, 
 Who leadeth me. 
 
 And now, though in the desert waste I go, 
 
 Or through the storm, or on the pitiless sea, 
 I fear nor foe nor pain ; for well I know 
 He leadeth me. 
 
 And so I feel, my trembling hand in His, 
 It is but well where'er my life may be ; 
 If present glories fade, to greater bliss 
 He leadeth me.
 
 CAMP-FIRE, MEMORIAL-DAY, 
 
 "AUF WIEDERSEHEN." 
 
 NAY, not good-bye ! a kindlier word 
 Our Teuton cousinship has stirred, 
 To give a hope for parting days 
 To him who goes, to him who stays, 
 The hope that we may meet again : 
 Auf wiederschen ! Auf wiedersehen ! 
 
 And so we speed thee, parting friend, 
 And forth to fame and fortune send ; 
 And though we pray that you may find 
 As faithful friends as those behind, 
 Yet still in joy or still in pain : 
 Auf wiedersehen ! Auf wiedersehen ! 
 
 And should the great world prove unkind, 
 And fame and fortune hard to find ; 
 Should sorrow come, or friends forsake, 
 And discipline be hard to take, 
 Retrace your steps, the way is plain : 
 Auf wiedersehen! Auf wiedersehen!
 
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