PS 3525 .0545 G3 1898 Copy 1 Class J:??5^^f^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. THE GATHERED WAIFS: CONTAINING LYRICS AND ODES PATRIOTIC, MARTIAL, AND RELIGIOUS. Dr. S. D. leifsnam, ^(va^e-u^ NEW YORK; 1898. ^545 Or 3 Copyright, 1898. All rights reserved. PKE.S.S or T. W. RifuEY, 138 CoNQi^EAS Syr., Boston, Ma*3. of tbe ^X, S. (Srant Tnst, Nn. 327, ^. Jt. 11., 150 Nassau Street, New York City, June i, 1S98. CONTENTS PAGE Apologia 9 Sleep 13 Life's Light and Shadow 14 The American Civil War 20-57 The Soldier's Recompense 20 Preparation for the Conflict 24 Chronicle of Struggle in Early Days ... 25 The War for the Union 29 Our First Great Battle 30 The Army Waiting for Action 34 The Army in Battle 37 Our American War Song 39 The American Soldier's Fond Recollections, 41 The Flag of Our Union 43 The Warrior's Bravery 44 Result of Conflict Renewed 46 The End of War Approaching 48 The Battlefield after the Conflict ... 52 The Heart's Tender Recollection .... 54 The Soldier's Reverie 54 Reminiscences — Our Loved and Lost 58 Haunts to Memory Dear 61 Vision of Future Scenes 63 The Capture of Yorktown 68 In Fairyland 71 To Time 74 Mountain Scenes and Sounds 76 The Gate and Path to Lethe 78 CONTENTS. PAGE The Maiden and the Flowers 83 Storm-tossed 85 Quest of the Unknown Bourn 88 The Soul's Voyage 91 Echo 95 Watchfulness 98 Hymn 99 Centennial Hymn of Praise to God 100 The Departing Soul (A Soliloquy) loi Dwelling with Christ 102 The Soul Longing for Heaven 104 The Soul's Yearning 106 Hope's Chime at Easter-tide 108 An Elegy on Maud no The Distracted Mourner 113 Name of Jesus 115 Heaven 117 The Nun 119 I Lift my Soul, O God, to Thee (A Hymn) ... 121 On the Stormy Sea 123 The Metamorphosis 127 To Vesta 129 An Ode to the Sun 131 Ode to the Ocean 133 Our Chieftain 135 Dirge o'er our Chief 138 Requiem for Absent Comrades 140 Our Brother Sleeps 142 Nature in Panorama 144-149 The Creator's Praise 144 Nature's Evolution and Teaching 145 The Spectacular Scene 146 Grant's Last Battle 150 CONTENTS. PAGE The Cruiser Brooklyn 153 The Bright Hereafter 157 Triumphal March of Freedom 159 From the Tempest to the Haven 161 By Crystal Fountains 163 Youth's Destiny 164 The Brook 166 Nocturnal Recreations . 168 Ode to Liberty 170 Melancholy Bodings 171 The Pleasures of Childhood 173 Views from Mohawk Valley 176 Bacchanalian Song 177 We Will Gather Round the Fireside (A Song) . 179 Sad Tidings 181 Steps in the Pathway of Morning ...... 183 In Battle 185 Vicissitudes and Stability 187 The Butterfly Chase 190 The Father's Heroism 194 The Singing Birds 197 Presentiments 200 Our Mother 201 Once 204 The Processes of Nature . • 208 Ambition's Duty 210 The Hunted Stag 211 Our May-Day Song 214 Fair May 216 The Sowing and the Reaping 218 The Poet's Plea 219 Life's Phases 221 Psalm of Destiny 222 CONTENTS. PAGE To Miss May 224 No More Night 226 The Sicnarf Fantasy (A Medley.) 228-252 America 230 Harold's Aspiration 233 My Laramie (A Song.) 234 Bertram's Lamentation 235 The Realm of Nature and of Man: Their Destiny 236 The Soul's Appeal 239 Paradise 240 Song of Seraphs 241 Ariel's Address 241 The Wedding Feast 243 Fair Una's Wedding Night 244 The Marriage Journey 245 The Witches' Song 248 The Fairies' Dance 251 Cupid and the Bachelor : or, Cupid's Fate . . 253 'Tis Sweet to Dwell on Sloping Hills .... 256 Song of the Magpie 259 Mary 260 Sonnets 261-269 The Higher Choice 261 False Science and True Religion 262 Home 263 Thanksgiving for Victory 264 The Nation's Crowning Gift 265 Ephemeral Fame 266 The Christening of the Ship 267 The Shelter of Old Age 268 Hesper's Hour 269 Minstrels of the Grove 270 CONTENTS. PAGE Legend of the Mermaid 272 Song of the Flowers 275 Apostrophe to Nature 277 The Struggles of Ambition: or, The Pursuit of Fame 279 "We shall see Him, but not Now" 282 At Eventide 283 To the Father of Waters 286 The Temple Building and Worship 288 The Night 291 The Migratory Song-Bird 293 The Sorrows of the Lost 295 Beings Hovering in Mid-Air 296 The Vesper Hour 297 The Ship of War 299 APOLOGIA. Go, precious Book, condemned to moderate praise, Or worse, to words with barbarous censure fraught; Enter, with modest mien, the poor man's cot. To crown his features with a wreath of smiles; Or spread thy pages in the halls of kings. From royal eyes to press a regal tear. When thou art humbled with neglect and scorn, Think of the thousand books which shared thy fate. When critics, hissing with envenomed sting, Strike with their poison fangs through ribs of steel To reach thy throbbing heart, heed not their thrust, Though angrily they tear thee into shreds, And spare thee not from spoliation dire, Nor save one fragment from pollution's stain. How many a book 's like thee condemned to wait. Its author living haply in mean repute, " Damned to faint praise," yet, after his decease, Though crushed to earth, is nobly doomed to rise, Soar on immortal wings through sunlit skies. Whose fame 's eternal as heaven's blest abode. Where dwell the souls whose deeds were wondrous fair. Since flattery aims to compass with false praise. Then cease thy fawning on the world's great sons, — (Pardon the word ; there is none great but God). 10 APOLOGIA. Paint thy rough cheek with modesty's fair blush, While stationed near the masters of Greek verse, And, to the charm of more pretentious song, Yield diadems to Poesy's bright fame. Thou hadst no patron to thy pastoral lay; No rich Mecaenas plumed thy wings for flight. And shouldst thou fail to reach Parnassus' height, Or snowy summit of Olympus, where The gods bestow immortal wreaths and crowns, Remember that thine infancy was bred Far from the gushing of Pierian springs. What pride we 'd take, what noble joy and bliss. To see thee marching down the centuries Linked arm in arm with Byron, Gray, or Moore; Or to behold thee sharing thy meed of note With Homer, Milton, Shakespeare, like the host Of nature's peerless bards who won earth's fame. Go, little Waifs, scattered like autumn leaves, Through hoary frost and winter's cold outspread, 'Twixt heaven and earth, the living and the dead, — Win your first laurels from the tented field, Where our brave warriors waved victorious swords. When round the world ye trace your trackless course. In future years, return once more and tell How eagerly men sought " The Gathered Waifs." Go forth, thou wanderer o'er the pathless deep, Like the bold seaboy cradled on its waves ; Sail to the harbor where the solemn priest APOLOGIA. 11 Swings censers facing some Egyptian god, And watch the incense in the Ephesian fane Rise to the top of yon cathedral dome. Haste to the forest and Hyrcanian wilds, Where greedy wolves devour defenceless lambs ; Go, like the troubadour or wandering Jew, Search out the beggar in his bed of straw. Where Islam wields his simitar of steel, — The Orient hospice shelters homeless guest ; Or perish in the pit of horrid Robur, Like brave Jugurtha, hurled to traitor's doom. Go, thou Iconoclast, through Folly's land, And smite the idols of the human mind; The superstitious age of ignorance Hath set her images upon the shrine Of Giaour's devotions; tear them rudely down. From dusty niches in their temple walls. Spare faith in Jesus ; make the bold attempt To fix Christ's statue on his pedestal. Seek lore from Moab's stone and Dighton rock; Rehearse the cabalistic formula ; Transmute base metals into solid gold. Base deeds of men to virtue by the power Of stone yclept philosophers of yore. Go forth, grim as the pallid face of Death, To yonder peak where dwells the mystic sage, And summon Delphic oracles to prove By auguries the phantom of thy dreams. 12 APOLOGIA. Plumed like the knight in martial splendor clad, Drive thy swift steeds along the Appian Way; Then pause a while beyond the Roman walls At Virgil's tomb; there rest thy chariot^wheels ; Revere the honored dead and haste away, Until the tocsin sounds in carnival. When nature spreads before thy ravished gaze, The alluring prospect of autumnal fields. Stroll on the bank of lake and dancing brooks, Among the reeds and rushes in the woods ; There find thy solace, and the healing balm. Since hostile arrows pierced thy bubbly pride. Then, after all thy journeys through the wilds, Return once more unto thy cherished friends, To comforts and the cheerful voice of song. By the fireside of thine own New England home. Time is not ripe yet for thy poet's fame; Some future century will own his worth. After one thousand years have sped away. It shall be proved thine author wrote no verse. But Bacon's genius wrought thy senseless rhymes. When vampire critics threat with evil eye To shut the gates of doom against the soul. Skate thou along the spider's brittle thread, Above the gates of hell, o'er fiery flood, Through yonder portals, to those distant realms. Where Moslem houris wait in Paradise. SLEEP. The lingering moon, which mounts the starHt dome, Looks through the clefts of yonder fleecy cloud, To light belated travellers journeying home. Or watch men sleeping in their nightly shroud. The evening air which glides so calm and still, Yet breathes in gentle whispers through the trees. Soothes the hot brow of maidens who are ill, Who bless the soft, kind nursing of the breeze. O slumber, come and seal these drooping eyes ; Cradle this brain in that soft couch of thine ; Compose these weary limbs in death's disguise ; Sprinkle this brow with dew of anodyne. Let no rough sound, and no corroding cares. Disturb these calm, serene, and peaceful dreams. No rude alarms assail, till morning dares To mock night's goddess with her golden beams. LIFE'S LIGHT AND SHADOW. On land and ocean, through severe constraint, How vast the number who but watch and weep ; The wretched suffer, weary hearts grow faint. While we, their fellow-mortals, idly sleep. While brave men rest, tyrants bear cruel sway. And crush the cowards down like abject slaves; Then, Patriots, rise, on Liberty's bright day. And hurl all despots to their doom, their graves ! Rich, proud, and great, they drive their chariot-wheels Along the boulevard, in matchless style ; But modest peasants toil in fallow fields. Like negroes on the borders of the Nile. Hear Ramah's children, crying for their bread. Their mother weeping, that she 's none to give ; In their hard lot, 't were better to be dead Than thus in starving: wretchedness to live. LIFE'S LIGHT AND SHADOW. 15 The ancient grandam whirls her buzzing wheel, With pinioned distaff to her bodice pressed, Spins gold or silver thread, and turns her reel, Weaves wizard's doublet, as beseems her best. The brightest days and darkest nights pass by, As oft the rolling tides both flow and ebb ; As swift as shuttles, busy moments fly, With warp and woof, to form life's tangled web. From all the past, where we once dropped our tears. Lost on oblivion's blank and silent page, Forward we gaze, through dark and misty years. Toward yonder goal which bounds life's tragic stage. The clouds which shadow life above us loom, But all the sky their silver linings fill. Whose radiance, lighting and dispelling gloom, Tells us that yonder sun is shining still. Beneath the blackness of a lowering sky. The frown of Deity inflicts a smart,' — Hath Heaven no alchemy to cure a sigh, No antidote to heal a bleeding: heart ? 16 THE GATHERED WAIFS. When all is bright, within life's glorious prime, Before the days of darkness and of gloom. The voice, still blending with melodious chime, Retains its strength, the cheek its youthful bloom. When manhood's strength has bent to hoary years. The power is gone, which won this world's renown ; Man vents his grief in sorrow's bitter tears. Like some proud czar, robbed of his regal crown. Man's earthly life is never all a cloud. But through the rift, the sunlight often cheers ; Though night be dark, and covered with a shroud, All earth is bright when dawning day appears. How dark it seems within the vaulted cave ! How sad the hour of man's departing breath ! How dismal is the clod which lines the grave, Within the vale and shade of ghastly death ! High Heaven provides a rest for human ills, And spreads the bow of promise after storms, Above the summits of those rugged hills, Where drops the tinted rain in piebald forms. LIFE'S LIGHT AND SHADOW. 17 Why art thou pensive, O my downcast sou) ? Cease thy sad plaint, although thy heart be sore, While through yon cloud fond memory bids the scroll Portray the face which thou canst see no more. Some toil and weep, while others rest or laugh, They vainly struggle, they can do no more ; While princes from their cups potations quaff. Slaves bear torn hearts, sprinkled with blood and gore. While some in joy, yet more in travail tread The lonesome path, along life's toilsome road; Sometimes by vice, anon by virtue led. They fall beneath the burden of their load. When wearily alone, 'neath murky dome. Along the rugged wild, o'er thorny path. The wayworn pilgrim strays afar from home, — His bosom swells with bitterness of wrath. The lurid light, through rifts of dark gray cloud. Reveals the storm in his tempestuous soul ; With anguish tossed, he lifts his voice aloud, And cries to Heaven for help, while thunders roll. 18 THE GATHERED WAIFS. Sometimes repining in the summer heat, Or in biting sharpness of the wintry cold, When pinched with hunger, chilled with snow and sleet, He suffers pain and miseries untold. 'Tis grateful for each traveller to learn, Howe'er his journey ends, though deep his grave. His ashes, stored within earth's sacred urn, Shall, phoenix-like, arise from land or wave. How sad it seems to be thus left alone. Bereft of friends, and weary of this life ! But winds may waft his sighs to worlds unknown. Where Pity crowns the slave of toil and strife. Take courage, noble, weak, and Vv'eary heart. Beyond heaven's wicket, I can faintly see ; However rough may be thine earthly part, Beyond death's portal, there is joy for thee. On yonder hill, the cottage roofed with thatch, Stands buttressed with heaven's choice of fragrant vine ; Approach the gate, and gently lift the latch. The warm embrace of welcome shall be thine. LIFE'S LIGHT AND SHADOW. 19 Kinsfolk in youth, who reached there long before, Await thy coming on those heights above ; Whole groups of friends, around the latticed door, Still proffer tokens of enduring love. Through mist and mazes of a way obscure, Each setting sun reveals the shadowed gloam ; Less human sadness hast thou to endure. One wayside milestone nearer to thy home. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. THE SOLDIER'S RECOMPENSE. Decorum est pro Patria mori. In bright array, the hostile phalanx fought, With bayonet and sabre cut their way ; So wide and deep, the havoc which they wrought. That, felled to earth, ten thousand warriors lay. Lo, here, how dreadful these sad fruits of war ! Men groaning, dying, strewn along the plain ; When ceased the battle, their brave comrades saw A piteous sight, the wounded, bleeding, slain. Sigh not for these alone; for oft, I ween, Still sorer griefs attend the slaughtered brave ; Lift up the veil, and view the distant scene. Where tears are falling on that soldier's grave. Can all the glory of a kingly crown ; Can splendid mounds, or monuments of art ; The fame of conquest, victor's high renown, — Check sorrow's stream which flows through one sad heart ? THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 21 Through years of anguish, must these sorrows last, The field of carnage fills the earth with dread; Remembrance hovers round the awful past, — Millions are mourning still their absent dead. The warrior welcomes death, if he may free His native land, or country's life may save ; The nation's gain is marked, where freedom's tree Takes root in every patriot hero's grave. Commend the care of each brave soul to God, His corse and tomb bid every people prize; Let fadeless flowers blossom o 'er the sod. Above his mound, let cloud-capped columns rise. The price of freedom, who can fully know. Or worth of valor in her holy cause ? With laurel wreath, we crown the victor's brow ; The world his courage cheers, with rapt applause. All men behold heroic deeds with pride, The heavens bend over with majestic awe, The sun itself dispels, and scatters wide The gruesome gloom, the dark, grim dearth of war. 22 THE GATHERED WAIFS. What coins of gold comprise the soldier's fee ? What boon can balance all his mortal groans ? War breaks the bondman's chain, sets captives free ; War crushes empires, and shakes tyrants' thrones. To freedom, peace and home, what debts we owe ! Columbia's land, home of the noble free ! Thrice have thine armies vanquished every foe. Thy navies thrice have swept him from the sea. Columbia's flag has stars not dimmed nor lost. But clearer, brighter shine they every year. Till soon, in numbers vast as swell the host Of heaven, their splendid beauty shall appear. Armies and hosts, so vast and without number; Navies and fleets that never more shall roam ; Nations of men whose bodies lie in slumber, — All gather on the journey toward their home. The heavens throw wide the everlasting portals. While hope invites to pleasures yet unseen. Save by the sense of happiest immortals. Who rove those hills and pastures ever green. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 23 Think, in that country pleasure has no end ; Gladness, contentment, come alike to all ; The soul rejoices, evil has no friend, Hearts have no sorrow, eyes no tears to fall. Talk not of earthly beauty, vernal flowers, Of fields where waving grasses strew the plain. Or gardens rich with perfume, wet with showers. Nor boast of rose-beds washed with gentle rain. The fairest scenes that Nature yet hath made. Stretch far away beyond the deep blue sky. Behold the land where flowers never fade, Where roses bloom, and blossoms never die. There mansions stand, wreathed in immortal vine, Whose tendrils cling to walls of gems and gold ; There bowers extend, decked in sweet eglantine, And temples tower in splendor yet untold. 24 THE GATHERED WAIFS. PREPARATION FOR THE CONFLICT. One fights for conquest, aided by the Fates ; He thus gains glory to adorn his grave. Our nation sought reunion of the States, And won a benison for every slave. War hath its grievances and bitter pangs, 'Tis but a monster spread across the way, That, like a snake with venom in his fangs, Strikes to destroy or blight his harmless prey. The cruelty of v/ar, the poet's theme. May kindle in the soul majestic fire ; What else can better serve to deck his dream. Or what so well his lofty thought inspire ? Night spreads her sable veil o'er all around ; The dew distils her gifts with gentle grace ; Stars shed their radiance upon the ground ; Sleep wraps earth's millions in her soft embrace. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 25 The picket guard stands sentinel till late, And paces to and fro in midnight gloom ; No hostile form appears to rouse his hate, And all is quiet, — silent as the tomb. CHRONICLE OF STRUGGLE IN EARLY DAYS. The portents of impending conflict seemed To threaten war. For years the prospect gleamed Bright with the flash of steel, until at last The war-cloud burst, with sound of bugle's blast. The threat of war then clouds the Southern sky, And proud Rebellion lifts her banners high, Flings down the gauntlet at Fort Sumpter's walls, - The nation totters when the fortress falls. Now Congress moves for war, with dread alarms, While Lincoln calls Columbia to arms ; Soon three-score thousand men confront the foe, Whom rebel legions strive to overthrow. 26 THE GATHERED WAIFS. Their country calls men, and they must obey, Their duty summons them in haste away ; To patriots and to this time belong Historic deeds, made memorable in song. Far o'er the land now rests a gloomy cloud. Like darkest midnight veiled in dismal cloud ; The timid women tremble, brave men quail, Through fear that valor now will not avail. See broad, expansive earth begirt with sky ; See wide encircling dome hung up on high ; Where camp-fires blaze at night beneath the stars. And cannon shake the earth like pagan Mars. The day is bright in autumn sixty-two When marching orders come for grand review ; Men brandish bayonets and sabres wield, And catch the foe feagued on the bloody field. The hostile camp is pitched before the dawn, While trumpet notes salute the coming morn ; Ere yet the darkness has quite passed away. The cannon roar to greet the break of day. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 27 The warlike squadrons marshalled on the plain Commence to slaughter and ignore the slain ; With sabre stroke and clash of sword they kill, — With musket-balls or grape-shot, as they will. The smoke of battle in the blaze of war Casts deep its shade o'er country wide and far ; The ghastly spectacle, pale, silent, dead. Strikes sorrow to all hearts and thrills with dread. And as the eagles swoop upon their prey — Trussing and pluming, bear them swift away — So they, in majesty and might, pour down To pounce on armies, and thus win renown. Behold the frowning aspect of the sky. The savage hilltops towering up on high ! When gathering clouds predict the wildest stoi-m. So fatal signs portend death's dreadful form. When proud battalions speed along the plain. They march, like steeds whose spirits never wane. With measured pace, with martial footsteps tread. Till night's black mantle round their tent is spread. 28 THE GATHERED WAIFS. Soldiers of sterner mettle made than hares Quail not for stroke which ambushed foeman bears ; They dread no ghost, like cowards seized with fright When spectres cast grim shadows in the night. Warriors, compact of steel, and sturdy bred. Stand proof to flying bullets, hail of lead ; Smell powder's smoke, as hounds scent track of deer ; Rush to the thickest light, and own no fear. By cannon's mouth brave soldiers fall and writhe, Like swaths of grass before the mower's scythe ; Are swallowed up by death on every side, Like seamen buried in the ocean tide. Time, marching on with slow, majestic tread, Conducts man soon to realms which mortals dread : But battle piles up heaps of slain in hours, When shot and shell come pouring down in showers. As Scottish bards their bagpipes tune to drone To buglers' sound the chord with death's deep groan. When soldiers falling, pierced with mortal wound. Lie prostrate, strewn upon the blood-stained ground. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 29 THE WAR FOR THE UNION. Three hundred thousand men must fly to arms ; At Lincoln's call our country must be saved ! On land and sea, alive with war's alarms, O'er one vast realm, her banner shall be waved ! This mandate reached the nation's utmost bound. And patriotic hearts are set on fire. When duty summons brave men, these have found That themes of war can with bold thoughts inspire. Gird on your swords for battle, ye Brave Chiefs, That fought at Palo Alto on the moors ! Strike, to redress your country's bleeding griefs ! Fight, that this native land may still be yours! America must liberate her sons. And break the shackles from three million slaves. Whose freedom costs gold eagles weighing tons, Countless young lives, and fills a million graves. 30 THE GATHERED WAIFS. And what was worth the treasure and the blood, So freely sacrificed at Freedom's shrine? The gore that streamed like tides upon the flood, Bought union for this nation, yours and mine. Saving our land excelled this princely price ; Her value equals all our heroes' lives. No recompense can for her loss suffice ; They fought for fathers, brothers, children, wives. OUR FIRST GREAT BATTLE. Men, in hot haste, were hurrying to and fro, And two vast armies stood with angry frown, Like clouds surcharged with fire, threatening the foe, Eager to shoot the hostile squadrons down. See those black thunderclouds ! how fierce they are ! How menacing they look, while they draw near ! Till, in a moment of suspense, they jar The earth as they explode, startling with fear. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 31 Thus do the armies of the North and South, Confront opposing forces at Bull Run, Marshal their columns at the cannon's mouth, And struggle, till the battle 's lost and won. The bugle call awakes Virginia's hills, And far-resounding echoes reach the plains ; The clash of arms through every bosom thrills, And booming cannon tell that battle reigns. How many a bright and sparkling hope oft springs, From the welling fountain of the youthful breast, When the gate of morn on silver pinion swings. The god of day hastes toward the golden west ; But a clouded sun rolls through the murky sky. And stamps those prospects with a fearful blight ; In darker hours, then Phoebus mounts on high. And sinks at last, to black and dismal night. So rose the sun upon that glorious day. Inspiring hope and gladness like a flood ; How quickly sped those fleeting dreams away ! That sun went down in sorrow, shame, and blood. 32 THE GATHERED WAIFS. The surging tides of cannon, horse, and men, Backward and forward sway, each one in course ; Repulsed, they rally to the charge again, And yield no portion to superior force. With blazing musketry, with shell and ball, Those armies fiercely mow each other down, And who that sees a thousand soldiers fall, Will dare deny that each deserves a crown ? The people's hearts with full strong throbbings beat. And fiery passions burst the utmost bound; With flashing eyes, the masses rose to meet The peril of the hour, from depths profound. Alas, for human hopes ! how quickly fled ! The voice of Fate proclaims this sure decree: The Union stars and stripes shall float o'erhead. Till every State sets all her children free. While pale in death, the bodies strew the plain. Their comrades covered them beneath the sod ; With bleeding hearts, these sorrowed for the slain, Stood for their country, and firmly trusted God. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 33 With muffled drums, and arms reversed, they tread ; No funeral dirge nor requiem is heard; O'er those remains, one simple prayer is said, But all our hearts felt sad with that last word. The soldier needs no casket and no pall, But when the noble hero bravely dies. Who then can count the manly tears that fall. Or who restrain his comrades' countless sighs ? Roll on, dark Clouds, that hover o'er these graves, And spend your fury in tempestuous gust ; Drop not your waters on the ocean waves, But nourish wild flowers o'er this sacred dust. The man who welcomes death in virtue's cause, And for his country, bravely dares to die. Obeys the dictate of Heaven's wisest laws. And shares the fame of realms beyond the sky. Blest is that land whose sons are true and bold, Whose rights the chieftain yields his life to save, And Mother Earth feels doubly proud to hold The priceless treasure of a hero's grave. 34 THE GATHERED WAIFS. Pray, bear his body gently to the tomb, Fire your last volley sweetly as you may, " The lights are out " within his silent room. He waits the reveille of coming day. When on that morrow, he shall rise at dawn, March homeward on the path he never trod ; Who then shall greet him in the early morn? — His own dear kindred, his Father and his God. THE ARMY WAITING FOR ACTION. The Union army halted with the van. As proud as eagles, on their mountain crag ; And rapture seized the heart of every man, While Victory was perching on his flag. The stillness of midnight calmly settles round. Serenely there the Union banners wave, Until the shouting breaks the calm profound, On the borderland, where Freedom greets the slave. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 35 Where Taurus rules his native herd of kine, King of the pasture, where he reigns supreme, There two vast armies, drawn in martial line, Stand heedless of the ill-omened vulture's scream. Forebodings, dark and rueful, dwell not where The mettle of true valor fills the breast ; The harsh, wild croak of ravens doth not scare The man who crushes hydras in their nest. Within the soldier's heart a cheerful hope Yet lingers, when all passions else are fled; E'en when defeat hath crushed his power to cope, A gleam from heaven shines round his radiant head. The nation's horn of power dwells in her host ; For strength the army can alone bestow; And with this mighty arm, she makes her boast To crush, destroy, and overwhelm the foe. Deprived of men, of weapons quite bereft. She, like a lion with a toothless jaw. Can seize no prey, and has no courage left. Defenceless as a bear which has no paw. 36 THE GATHERED WAIFS. An army without head is but a mob, Which turns against itself in heedless fight, And spends its force in murdering to rob, — But discipline must act with valor's might. When peaceful measures serve not to repair The breach which- wise diplomacy ignored. And arbitration deals with schemes unfair. Arbitrament must poise upon the sword. The wretch who heeds not when his country cries To him for help, and summons him afield. Is named a coward ; for mankind despise The traitor, whose dishonor stains his shield. The volunteer, enrolled on page of fame. With broad escutcheon and heraldic rhyme. Shall win his coat-of-arms and honored name, For proud posterity through endless time. Within the sphere of base Desertion's caste, What can heroic virtue e'er implant ? How strangely these two characters contrast. The traitor Arnold, and the chieftain Grant. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 37 THE ARMY IN BATTLE. So gallantly they fight on either side, In rough environment of hill and vale, That officers survey the field with pride, Mid showers of deadly balls and leaden hail. They lead the charge ; then, driven back by force, Renew the eager onset quick and fast. Till Union troops, masking the battle's course, Disperse the rebels' broken ranks at last. The storm which beats the cloud-capped battle-wall. And shrieks for vengeance on the sheltered foe. Now breaks the ramparts of the castled hall, Their fragments o'er the shattered bastions strew. Ah, what is human life ! How small a gift To sacrifice on altars of that land Which gave us birth ! Alas ! at length how swift Life ebbs away within the Maker's hand. 38 THE GATHERED WAIFS. The soldier longs to share the martyr's doom, And dreads to weigh his treasures in the scale Against his country's needs, — nor fears the tomb, Where honors lie in Freedom's placid vale. By Fate's irrevocably firm decree, It stands recorded as a truth to warn : Amid these shifting scenes we shall not be Forever ; life, like a shadow, soon is gone. Along the field of battle lie the slain ; The wounded, bleeding, gasping for their breath. Lean on their arms in agonizing pain, Until set free from suffering by death. What multitudes on that long muster-roll. Join the ascending host that storms the fort And battlements of heaven, with prayerful soul, And entrance gain to that celestial port ! The iron-bound and gallant stout-rigged ships Cast anchor for eternity within The realms of paradise, where man equips His brow with laurels which he craved to win. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 39 Think how the brave deserves thy fond caress ; Nor doth he boast of cruelty alone ; But let each gentle maid with pride confess, He has a heart as tender as her own. Dreaming of home, the soldier often lies Outstretched upon the field, both pale and wan ; But when he leads the charge, or wins the prize. The love of one sv/eet damsel leads him on. He marches proudly to the seat of war. And boldly mounts the ramparts of the foe ; Cheered by the voices that resound from far, Whose echoes reach the distant plains below. OUR AMERICAN WAR SONG. Ducit amor patriae. Here is death to the traitor who dares to betray ; But behold, where the hero his standard unfurls ! To the Stars and the Stripes, let the nations give way. For our banner leads on to the conquest of worlds. 40 THE GATHERED WAIFS. To the battle, Brave Warriors, display your bold clan ! In your rage and your fury, still fight as of yore ; Strike the enemy down, till ye slay the last man, And then march on in triumph through victory's gore. In the shock of the breach, we will grapple with steel, Till the sabre shall reek with the blood of the slain. And our swords shall compel them, like vassals, to kneel, And to beg their release from captivity's chain. Let our cannon demolish their breastwork of rock, Like an avalanche, crash through the bastion's firm wall, Till the mountains shall quake with th' imperious shock. And the clouds shall re-echo the blast of their fall. We shall brook no more boast from an insolent foe. But revenge the proud look of contempt and disdain ; We shall hurl back their threats with a gigantic blow. And repay their bold insults with torture and pain. Should oppression and tyranny rise in our land. We will drive them to regions below, whence they came ; Like the patriots of our revolution we'll stand, • And our sons shall outrival their forefathers' fame. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 41 Over this, our free country, the people hold power. If no franchise or ballot, the}^ shall sway with the sword. Let the demagogue tremble and the anarchist cower, Since the buzzard feels dazed, where the eagle has soared. When our chivalry marshal their host to a man, 'Gainst the treacherous hatred and sceptre of Spain, We shall shame the bold arrogance of haughty Japan, And send hope to the islands wherever we reign. THE AMERICAN SQLDIER'S FOND RECOLLECTIONS. America, my pride, my chief est joy ! Oh, all day long my heart is full of glee, — Where happy days my gladdest thoughts employ. The Yankee boys, they are the boys for me ! Within the soul, their patriot feelings glow With aspirations, noble, grand, and true ; They, leading onward, strong against the foe, Through fields of danger and of blood, pursue. 42 THE GATHERED WAIFS. Ah, bravest comrades of heroic Giaours ! We hail your martial prowess with applause ; We honor Spartan valor equal ours, Nor less the sires who fell in our great wars. Proud of my country, while my bosom swells To learn some conquest she has won anew, I hear the spirit's voice which clearly tells, "No alien soldiers match the 'boys in blue.'" In bloody days of " auld lang syne," our sires Would crush invaders from beyond the sea ; They kindled sparks to torches, coals to fires, And flames to conflagrations wild and free. Indomitable sires on Bunker Hill, Unflinching faced the foe, 'mid cannons' roar, — There stands the shaft which marks their glory still, Intrepid patriots of those days of yore. No less in fame, their sons of sixty-one Marched to the front to heal the nation's woes ; Through four long years, in battles lost and won. They fought, and conquered this lorn country's foes. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 43 Intoxicated with the victor's joy, Each soldier stacked liis arms 'neath heaven's blue dome ; With parting words and tears from each brave boy, He turned his footsteps towards his own dear home. His heart and pulse, throbbing with strong desire. Quickened his pace until he reached the door. Rejoiced to see beside the yew-log fire The maid that he loved best his own once more. J^^ "W THE FLAG OF OUR UNION. May the flag of our country henceforth ever bear, All the stars and the stripes boldly floating in air ! May the star-spangled banner, forever and aye. Wave her folds of defence, o'er the blue and the gray ! Let the Union of States continue to stand, And the power of our arms rule the sea and the land, Till the heavens and the earth become shrouded in gloom. When the ages to come shall have passed to the tomb. 44 THE GATHERED WAIFS. THE WARRIOR'S BRAVERY. The warrior stern, no waggish snob is he ; In character, he 's manly, bold, and brave ; In manner, courteous, chivalric, and free ; Prompt to obey commands, and yet no slave. Inscribed in memory's tablet, names in gold Shine through the ages, bright as flaming stars Fixed in their orbits of cerulean mould, Whose meteoric splendor equals Mars. Proudly across the ramparts of the foe They march to conquest with their flags unfurled. Tumultuous throngs press on to overthrow, Whose cannon echo round th' encompassed world. Pale, ghostlike forms, the swift-winged messengers Of heaven, dwell in the clouds above the slain, And brood around them ; not a lone leaf stirs Within the wildwood of that templed fane. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 45 While wan the moon paced Zodiac's steep side, Beneath the veil of night, their legend saith, Sleep swept by, like an overwhelming tide, And sealed their eyes in miniature of death. The patriotic warrior fights amain For glory less than for his country's weal; His nation's vantage thus he strives to gain, As oft distressed, to Heaven she lifts appeal. He mounts his steed with falchion by his side. And gallops o'er the plain with gallant pace ; Midst bullets thick as rain pursues his ride, Nor heeds the ghastly wounds that scar his face. He climbs the hill, in masterly array, Through thicket, tanglewood, o'er ditch and wall ; He leaps from moat to parapet away, To fort and garrison, and captures all. What will the soldier do and bravely dare To win his country's generous meed of praise 1 He'll face the cannon's mouth with courage rare. Wrest victory from the battle's lurid blaze. 46 THE GATHERED WAIFS. With solemn tread, his corse, in silence borne. Now rests beneath the willow's sombre shade, Whom once the muffled drum-beat bade us mourn. Beside the shattered bastion's esplanade. The sister or the sweetheart vents her love By sighing out in the cold moonless air ; Breathing her plaints like some sad moaning dove That 's lost her cooing mate in the fowler's snare. Thus parent, wife, and brother, sister, friend. Vie in their spheres our soldiers' luck to share. And every patriot will his greeting send, For the hardships and the sufferings they bear. RESULT OF CONFLICT RENEWED. Meanwhile the battle's din resounds afar ; The smoke of flashing powder mounts on high ; The cannonade sets rifted rocks ajar, Like peals of thunder from the hills and sky. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 47 Hear how the cannon make the welkin ring Till earth re-echoes to the ponderous sound. The shot fly swiftly on electric wing, And fell their victims to the blood-stained ground. The flower of Southern chivalry must yield To the virile strength of overwhelming force, And lose brave comrades on the tented field, Since War pursues his ever deadly course. The strongest column seldom fails to win ; But numbers do not always furnish might ; In fratricidal strife against our kin God helps the cause of Justice, Truth, and Right. The stirring notes of bugle, fife, and drum, Of clarion horn that summons to the fray, Shall rouse stern courage in the hearts of some. With valiant deeds to gain the doubtful day. Intrepid warriors from a knightly clan. Arrayed in steel, with armor to defend. Yet need a Chief superior to man. Wisdom to guide and valor to contend. 48 THE GATHERED WAIFS. Proudly they marched tOM^ard their palatial home With that grand army which enlists the soul ; At night some slept beneath the spangled dome Whose names at morn stood on life's muster-roll. No dreams can now disturb the peaceful breast; They long ago have reached the distant shore Where the patriot, valiant soldier finds his rest, Where the bugle or the drum-beat calls no more. The buried dead, how calm and still they lie ! Reposing sweetly in a soldier's grave ; No clarion trump now swells the quiet sky, To herald deeds of glory by the brave. THE END OF WAR APPROACHING. Where the sweet rose, and lily white as snow. Scatter perfumes through the air unto the sky, On the border land of Dixie, stood the foe. Just where the blooming heather greets the eye. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 49 But the roses, frightened at the sight of blood, Have ever since grown pale upon the vine ; They blanch their color in the early bud, Although of yore they blushed as red as wine. No Union soldier's cheek e 'er blanched with fear, But many a face in death grew pale and cold (When cowards fall no soldier sheds a tear) ; But rebel warriors matched ours quite as bold. The sword hath power the bond to disenthral, And boldly thwart the traitor's deeds of shame ; In matchless valor one surpasses all ; And maidens vie to sing this chieftain's name ; For when the Union cause seemed nearly lost. In that dark hour of solemn midnight gloom, The ship was wildly drifting tempest-tossed, He seized the helm and stayed her threatened doom. As Caesar crossed the Rubicon, and bore The Roman eagles through the Appian way, Thus o'er the grim Potomac's hostile shore Grant raised our banner where it waves to-day. 50' THE GATHERED WAIFS. The foe disputed every rood of ground, And gave fierce battle in the Wilderness ; At length our army compassed them around With high intrenchments, and with stern duress. From every quarter of the heavens men came, — East, North, and West, the mountains and the sea ; Wherever heroes then deserved the name They swelled the host that set our bondmen free. Bestow thy thought upon that anxious throng Who sit in pensive grief and tears at home ; Whose hearts transfixed with many a painful thong Yearn for the boys in gray where'er they roam. A father waits your last report to learn, Stops in the furrow, leans upon his plough, — Oh, tell the sire his son shall soon return, Wreaths on his hand and laurel on his brow ! The mother sits in gloomy solitude. Spends sleepless nights in longing for her child; Dreams he is lost within some tangled wood, Or sees his mangled form in forest wild. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 51 When borne on stretcher from the battlefield, Wounded in bloody limbs and racked with pain, What rapture doth anticipation yield The thought that he '11 soon reach his home again ! The South choose union stripes in place of bars, Transform their uniforms of gray to blue. Restore old flags with all their lustrous stars. Change thought and heart from false intent to true. Beneath the shade of yonder gnarled oak. Which stands upon the hillside there alone. The wounded soldier lies, felled by the stroke Of some sharp cutlass piercing to the bone. His pensiveness alternates with good cheer, Between the thoughts of home and stinging pain ; His whispered meditations pierce our ear While he mutters some old poem's sweet refrain. 52 THE GATHERED WAIFS. THE BATTLEFIELD AFTER THE CONFLICT. Beneath the canopy of heaven's blue dome, The smoke of battle had just cleared away ; The evening twilight darkened into gloam ; On the dewy grass our wounded comrades lay. The moon's pale beams fell on each anxious brow, Revealing pain and anguish pictured there ; Heaven heard intently many a sacred vow. And prayer beseeching God's paternal care. That night the angel of the sable wing Was brooding in the air above the slain, Choosing his victims, like a mighty king Swaying his sceptre o'er the bloody plain. The mortal shaft, well-aimed at vital part, Fell deadly on the wounded soldier's frame, And stayed his panting breath and beating heart. And stopped his throbbing pulse with ruthless shame. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 53 Right upward, through th' ethereal, brilliant dome. The soul, emancipated, winged his flight To paradise, his own celestial home, Whose beauty captivates the ravished sight. The pomp and pageantry of earth no more Attracts the gaze or wins the heart of men Whose pallid faces, sprinkled with red gore. Look upward towards that land which bounds their ken. Sad as the melancholy tomb, that field Lies shrouded in the sombre veil of night; With death's dark pall the gloomy view is sealed Till the morrow's sun breaks o'er the ghastly sight. The battlefield, with wounded and the slain. More frightful than a charnel-house of bones, Appeals to man's deep sympathy for pain, — O'er fields of blood kings mount to earthly thrones. On the green slope of yonder hill they rest, Whose trusty swords hang in our marble hall ; But the comrade's portrait whom we love the best Smiles sweetly down from our own chamber wall. 54 THE GATHERED WAIFS. THE HEART'S TENDER RECOLLECTION. Eyes moist with emotion, cheeks wet with hot tears, Hearts swelHng with this darkest depth of our grief, — Attest the affection we have cherished for years Toward the hero whom we hailed as our valiant chief. Oh, how heedless of that bugle's clarion voice Are our comrades who sleep in yonder green vale ! They regard not our victory's eclat, nor rejoice In the glamour which floats on the far-sounding gale. THE SOLDIER'S REVERIE. The vials of wrath are still falling to earth, Poured out by the demon of war ; Still strewing the field, desolation and dearth Show the boldest defiance of law. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 55 On the pavement we hear the rough tramp of the steed And the rattle of hoofs on the plain; The messenger comes in his ravenous greed To pile up the heaps of the slain. While the sands of the hour-glass are dropping below And the figure of death stands above, The sharp scythe is now mowing the swath of the foe, For that feels neither mercy nor love. They fall by the sword drawn in bitterest strife. And some by the pestilent air, While they march to the front with the shrill note of fife, And they die with no food and no care. Oh, where is the heart that can feel others' woe. And in pity for man own a share. That in sorrow and grief can some sympathy show, And relief to the sorrowing bear ? The beast in his lair, like the wild lion, roars While he tears up the flesh for his dam ; And away from his aerie the bold eagle soars To seize on the innocent lamb. 56 THE GATHERED WAIFS. It is so cruel men in their butchery slay Each his fellow with cannon and sword ; Through the broad fields of blood they now scatter dismay, Where the foe lies all slaughtered and gored. It is true that the beast dreams not he must soon die, But he shrinks from the strife and the pain ; While the man ever conscious where he must soon lie May at once find his death to be gain. In the morn of his life his gay hopes appear bright, And he seeks for the pleasures in store; In the evening his sky frowns as black as the night In the midst of the Newfoundland shore. When the twilight shall kindle the height of the mountain. And the daybreak shall lighten the hill ; When the thirsty shall drink of the stream and the fountain And the draught shall disperse every ill, — Then in paradise morning shall dawn with new splendor And shall dazzle his vision with light ; Then his heart shall be glad and emotions most tender, For the glory will ravish his sight. THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 57 Single disco7inected Stanza extracted from an Oration on Mefnorial Day before a Post of the G. A. R. Sleep, my dear brother, sleep, Beneath this silent sod, Till angels sound the trump Which calls thee home to God. REMINISCENCES OUR LOVED AND LOST. Blest scenes of childhood! many days and years Have winged their angel flight through joys and tears Since this lone wanderer forsook his home, Through camp and field o'er this broad earth to roam. O give me back the treasures of my love, The hillside pasture, meadow brook and grove, The gladsome days of youth, no more to stray From my own New England fireside far away. Bring back the faces of that olden time, Long years ago at rest in holier clime ; Speak once again, my schoolmate, friend and brother ; Give me one tender kiss, my own dear mother. Sleep thou in peace and take thy needful rest. No cloud of grief shall reach the soul thus blest; Bright flowers bedeck thy grave, green be the sod, Pure be thy joy in the Eden of thy God. OUR LOVED AND LOST. 59 Thou canst not view the stream of burning tears Which fall like raindrops in our griefs and fears ; Thou canst not feel the pang or inward smart Which, like a keen blade, pierceth this sad heart. 'Tis not the mound which covers thee above, Nor this cold earth that shuts thee from my love. Nor autumn leaves upon thy bosom piled. Nor wintry blast and storm so fierce and wild. 'T is not the stillness, nor the icy wave, Nor yet the sleet that falls upon thy grave. Nor drifting snows so roughly heaped on high, — No, nor the chilly winds that whistle by. All these I feel, but oh! how vastly more The loneliness and gloom, the sadness sore. Which fills my heart to the brim and overflows My cup of sorrow with these weighty woes. Of all these keenest woes, sad though they be. None can so move the reins of grief in me As one fond look upon the lonely room Left vacant in my drear, forsaken home. 60 THE GATHERED WAIFS. The c}^ress tree which shades the cheerless spot Where hes all that is dear and ne'er forgot Shall grow for ages, and then waste away, Long ere my love shall v.-ane or hopes decay. HAUNTS TO MEMORY DEAR. The rose which blossoms fair on Carlisle hill, And scatters fragrance through the dewy morn, And sips the misty vapor from the rill, Hides underneath her leaf no piercing thorn. In that dear spot my native village stands, Where our forefathers in the churchyard sleep ; Oft turns my heart, from home in distant lands, Thither to graves where Sorrow's children weep. On that fair mound, two churchly steeples rise ; Within those belfries, ring the calls to prayer ; Soft toll those bells, when some old neighbor dies ; The young and aged pay due homage there. Proud of their martial ancestors who fought, At Concord, Lexington, and Bunker Hill, These sons, with monumental shafts well wrought. Keep green their record : 't is our Country's will. 62 THE GATHERED WAIFS. How many a son, to grasp earth's fame, aspires. And craves his father's honor for his own ; Time weans no heart from love of ancient sires, Whose names have faded from the moss-worn stone. Hail to brooks, woods, and hills, our childhood mates. Whose echoes back my wakeful memory brings ; I love those green vales where our cottage gates As proudly stood as castle halls of kings. The breath of playing zephyrs, oh, how sweet ! The murmurs of the brooklet passing by. As notes of harp and viol softly meet In tuneful strains of charming melody. Sit we awhile beneath the sylvan shade Of ancient elm now gnarled and warped with age, And watch the sunbeams dancing o'er the glade. And glean the lessons of this mystic page. VISION OF FUTURE SCENES. Oh, tell me, shall yon heaven be mine at last. Beyond the starry host that lines the sky, Celestial cities of the ages past. Where dwell inhabitants that never die ? Shall I, indeed, then wear a princely crown, And live in halls where saints are courtly kings. Join that bright retinue who own renown. And soar to shining orbs on angel wings ? Shall I attune my harp with strings of gold. And hear sweet music of angelic choirs. Live countless ages, never then grow old. Entranced in song and by strains of heavenly lyres No more shall sail upon the storm-tossed sea My fragile bark, laden with precious store ; The wreck of ventures may return to me From ocean's waste of waters never more. 64 THE GATHERED WAIFS. Green lap of earth, blue cope of sky, shall seem A floating spectre in the hazy light ; Fame's empty bauble, fleeting as a dream. Least of man's hollow toys once lured the sight. Time was when song of nightingale was clear, When tree and grove and hill could all rejoice ; To woodland minstrels then I turned my ear, Then gladly heard the sound of Nature's voice. Once it was sweet upon that bank to lie And watch the soaring eagle in his flight. And, gazing upward, view the azure sky While dusky eve was fading into night. Between two worlds there hangs a brazen door. Which, swinging wide upon its iron hinges, Yields gently when the ransomed soul goes o'er, And on the gate of death itself impinges. Beside the gateway two fierce dragons stay. Called Dread and Fear, both giants in their might, Whose office 't is to beckon souls away, — To seize and capture them while on their flight. VISION OF FUTURE SCENES, 65 From here 't is but a step to endless life, The starry pathway upward leads to heaven. The bridegroom welcomes home his princely wife, Her escort Michael and archangels seven. A golden string of blossoms binds her train, Her brow is wreathed with circlet of fair flowers, From which drop perfumes, just as holy fane Bears incense on the shrine of Eden's bowers. Didst see the stride they made from star to star, While, step by step, the ladder they ascended ? Or couldst thou trace their journey from afar. Or view their pleasure when their march was ended ? Each saint beholds strange prospects, hears new sounds ; The wonders widen as the soul ascends ; The scenes of earth spread out to distant bounds, — Some of this vision pleases, some offends. While forest, meadow, mountain still are near, At first familiar objects meet the view ; The landscape stretches far through countries here, — Above the cloudy summits all is new. THE GATHERED WAIFS. He meets companions in his airy flight ; The twilight deepens while he floats away; Lost in the shadows of the coming night Earth fades ; for so the darkness ends the day. But now the comrades of his journey speak, — For millions traverse o'er the self-same path, Since heaven's the home all spirits fain would seek. Save those who struggle on the road to wrath. As some belated travellers, strayed away Far from the road, have lost their mountain guide. So these lone spirits, wearied through the day, Find to their loss that they have wandered wide ; Approach the precipice, there stand amazed, And tremble at the fearful chasm below. Quaking with deadly terror, strangely dazed, Bewildered walk, with heavy steps and slow. As tourists slide into the glacial cleft, Still tumbling down till they can fall no lower, So sink lost souls, of every hope bereft, Where wrecks lie scattered on that dismal shore. VISION OF FUTURE SCENES. 67 Turn hence your eyes to yonder bright blue dome, Where Christian heroes mount revolving spheres ; Where noble spirits reach their blissful home And dwell with God's fair angels countless years. Now greet the ear, like roll of distant thunders, Concords Divine and notes without alloy. Saints scale the heights of heaven, where untold wonders Break on their sight with pure, seraphic joy. What power, save One Almighty, can excel The strength of imp or cherub on the wing? Or their puissant nature, who can tell, As homeward they the spoils of conquest bring? From shore to shore, between these distant spheres, With lightning speed they travel in their flight; And carry captives, with triumphant cheers. To homes of joy or realms of darkest night. If leaving heaven to visit earth below Was self-denying sacrifice so great. Then going hence to paradise we know Must be the crowning gift of friendly fate. THE GATHERED WAIFS. Why murmur we that our most precious boon So swiftly visits us ? and why complain That our darling ones have reached the goal so soon, And stored their treasuries with priceless gain ? When children die, and death's dark mantles fall On sons and daughters thus from earth set free, 'Tis sweet and blest to hear those children call, " Oh, weep not, mother, shed no tears for me ! " When round their bier, in sympathy and sorrow, Friends gather weeping, for their hearts are sore. Look upward, muse upon that golden morrow ; Cease from those piteous cries and weep no more. THE CAPTURE OF YORKTOWN. On the banks of the Brandywine Washington stood ; His steed neighed a welcome to the morrow's affray ; While the British Cornwallis, in his petulant mood, Defiant, awaited the dawn of the day. THE CAPTURE OF YORKTOWN. 69 While the stars are still lighting the cool autumn sky, Our forces march onward to meet the stern foe ; To repair the disasters of battle, they'd try And confront the invaders for weal or for woe. Through the long march of highways, our soldiers troop o'er. Till they reach the proud battlements of Yorktown's high towers ; They demand the surrender of the red coats' gay corps, And await the bold answer of these haughty powers. These powers, more puissant than our chief can wield, Must disdain all his threats in their own conscious force ; With their disciplined troops they can master the field, When they fight with their strength, like the stars in their course. The capture of Yorktown, by stratagem wrought. Would surpass the bold effort of battle, we know. Though the skill and the wisdom of this brilliant thought Can secure no advantage 'gainst a vigilant foe. 70 THE GATHERED WAIFS. While the horses are champing, their bridle bits gripped, And are pawing the ground with their hoofs shod with steel, All the cavalry mounted, with sabres equipped, Stand there, eager to follow the trumpet's high peal. 'Midst the booming of cannon and bursting of shell, The infantry marching to wheel into line, Their volleys re-echo through mountain and dell, While the clouds with the smoke of the battle combine. There Washington bore his bright laurels away, For he nothing refused to do and to dare ; And the nations, in wonder, exultingly say That Yorktown with Waterloo we may compare. As Napoleon yielded to Wellington there. So to Washington, now by his country adored. While our banners were floating in mid-autumn air, Cornwallis reluctantly gave up his sword. '