Class. 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 
 
CORPORAL DAY 
 
 A NEW ENGLAND IDYL 
 
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 Copyright 1904 by Charles Henry StJohn 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Copies rtcccivea 
 
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 CUSS (^ XXc Nui 
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 COPY B 
 
 PRINTED AT 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 
 BOSTON, U. S. A. 
 
Kind Reader, before you begin, let me say, 
 J^ By way of a Proem, that " Corporal Day " 
 
 O9 Was written at first to be spoken aloud 
 
 rin a hall to a friendly, uncritical crowd, 
 And not to be judged by the absolute rules 
 .» Of classical Prosody taught in the schools; 
 
 [^ So if you will please bear this statement in mind, 
 
 JO You may find fewer faults than you'd otherwise find. 
 
 i 
 
"^ 
 
 CORPORAL DAY 
 
 In a beautiful region of valleys and hills, 
 Of wide-spreading meadows and murmuring rills, 
 Is a picturesque village, whose principal street 
 Is shaded with elms, whose branches meet 
 Like a gothic aisle, where the heavens are seen 
 In glimpses of azure thro' curtains of green. 
 A church on the hill lifts its finger above 
 And silently points to the mansions of Love. 
 Two or three stores are enough to supply 
 The people with all they desire to buy; 
 While up from the stream at the foot of the hill 
 Comes ever the rumbling roll of the mill. 
 
 So far from the track of the world does it lie. 
 No fiery engine goes thundering by; 
 Not even the nerves of the telegraph reach 
 The somnolent brain of the village, to teach 
 The people of all that is stirring without 
 In the great busy world with its rabble and rout. 
 Two or three newspapers come in the bags 
 Of the mail, when it comes, that are fingered to 
 rags 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 Ere the next ones arrive with their wonderful lies 
 To open the innocent villagers' eyes. 
 
 Such a welcome retreat, where slumber is sweet, 
 Is indeed very rarely one's fortune to greet: 
 So vastly unlike where the children of Fashion 
 Invade for the summer to squander their cash In ! 
 This lone little Eden they never come near; 
 In fact, there is naught to inveigle them there: 
 No "mineral" humbug for people to drink — 
 Poor broken-down roues, who foolishly think 
 That three months of water, without and within, 
 Will remedy nine months of folly and sin ! 
 So, with nothing to coax the shoddyfied folks, 
 The natives are Innocent, guileless, and kind. 
 Though to saving their pennies some little Inclined. 
 
 Well, such was our village some seasons ago, 
 And Blackberry Centre its name, you must know : 
 A quiet, unchanging, conservative place, 
 Where life was a rest, not a mad steeplechase; 
 Where no one was wealthy and no one was poor. 
 And nobody fastened his window or door; 
 And the girls wore the fashions of one year be- 
 fore. 
 
 10 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 'Twas a clean, healthy place, tho', perhaps, to the 
 
 crusty. 
 The street In the summer may seem rather dusty; 
 But the water was pure and so was the air. 
 And the burdens of life seemed easy to bear. 
 
 A neat little cottage, set back from the road 
 Some ten or twelve steps, was the peaceful abode 
 Of a fair little maiden called Caroline Gray; 
 While over the way, — 
 In the general store 
 Of Jonathan More, — 
 
 Was a clerk of the name of Absalom Day, — 
 A strapping fine fellow, who, here let me say. 
 Was engaged to this fair little Caroline Gray. 
 At least, to the village 'twas very well known; 
 
 For in Blackberry Centre this marvel was true, 
 
 That most people knew 
 Much more of their neighbors' affairs than their 
 
 own ! 
 Whatever one did, or said, or tried. 
 Somehow or other, was sure to be spied! 
 There wasn't a man, or woman, or child — 
 Old or young, sober or wild — 
 From the day he was born to the hour he died. 
 
 11 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 But was known through all the countryside. 
 There wasn't a man but could tell to a mill 
 The exact amount in his neighbor's till, 
 And whether he paid his doctor's bill; 
 What insurance was on his life, 
 And how much money he gave his wife; 
 JVhy he came to the church so late, 
 And how many pennies he put on the plate. 
 And so, of course, when matters so small 
 As these, in the Centre, were known to all, 
 The fact that the teacher, Caroline Gray, 
 Encouraged the hopes of Absalom Day, 
 Was as plain to all the Blackberry people 
 As the gilded vane of the orthodox steeple. 
 Nay, even their wedding-day was known 
 To everyone — but themselves alone; 
 While whispering gossips wondered that she 
 "Should pick up a clerk in the store like he!" 
 But neither cared a single cent 
 For all that was said, whatever was meant. 
 They went their ways, 
 
 And dreamed their dreams; 
 They said their says. 
 
 And schemed their schemes. 
 And oh! what castles in Spain they scanned, 
 
 12 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 As, slowly loitering, hand in hand, 
 They saw the summits of promise rise 
 Like golden clouds in the crimson skies; 
 While all the future before them lay — 
 One balmy, blissful, endless May ! 
 They saw a church, and before the rail 
 A handsome youth and a maiden pale. 
 (The maiden pale was Caroline Gray 
 And the handsome youth was Absalom Day.) 
 And they saw a farm in that fairy land, 
 With flourishing fields on every hand; 
 And shady groves and orchards rare. 
 Whose bloom lent fragrance to the air; 
 And a beautiful cottage where roses twine. 
 And a horse or two, and a couple of kine, 
 A little fat pig, and a dog and a cat. 
 And ducks and geese, and chickens and that; 
 And of course that all these things, you know. 
 Belonged to Absalom Day & Co. 
 And furthermore, before the door 
 Of the cottage, they saw — well, less than a score- 
 Say three little cherubs with brightest eyes, 
 Down in a mud-puddle making pies. 
 
 13 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 Ah, don't we remember that sweet long-ago, 
 
 When we, now so solemn, were acting just so! 
 
 When down in the firelight, vivid and plain, 
 
 We gazed at our wonderful castles in Spain ! 
 
 What lovely creations we saw in those dreams ! 
 
 What emerald meadows ! what mountains and 
 streams ! 
 
 Where naught but enchantment our eyes did be- 
 hold. 
 
 Where the rivulets rippled o'er pebbles of gold, 
 
 Where Beauty displayed her most exquisite 
 charms, 
 
 And Pleasure enfolded in rapturous arms ! 
 
 No dangers appall us, no sorrows enshroud, 
 
 'Neath the burden of labor we ne'er should be 
 bowed; 
 
 Where all we may sigh for we surely shall gain, 
 
 No summit so lofty we may not attain; 
 
 Where honors are strewn like the leaves of the 
 grove. 
 
 And glories illume us wherever we rove. 
 
 So real they seemed. 
 
 We knew not we dreamed; 
 
 We felt not we saw in the embers that gleamed 
 
 With a glow growing dimmer 
 
 14 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 Each moment, the shimmer 
 
 That fashions the fanciful visions of youth; 
 
 Till Time told the truth, — 
 
 That all these warm tintings were airy and vain; 
 
 Then vanished for ever those castles in Spain ! 
 
 But let us return to Absalom Day, 
 Of whom, I'm sorry to have to say 
 That his pocket was short, though his limbs were 
 
 long — 
 His means were weak, though his arms were 
 
 strong ; 
 And everyone knew that he scarce could pay 
 His current expenses, while Caroline Gray 
 For years conducted the village school, 
 And, of course, had a trifle laid away. 
 As the saying is, for a rainy day. 
 So everyone said, " She would be a fool 
 For to go and throw herself away 
 On such a fellow as Absalom Day." 
 
 But isn't this always how people prate 
 When youthful love and beauty mate? 
 As if your love was a nugget of gold. 
 
 15 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 To be coined into dollars, or bought and sold 
 In the common market like butter and cheese, 
 And eggs and pork, and things like these. 
 Now Absalom very well knew indeed 
 What people said; for couldn't he read 
 The scornful looks that were always cast 
 By certain parties whene'er they passed, — 
 Carrie and he, — with talk like this, 
 As full of spite as a serpent's hiss: 
 "And he so poor! " 
 
 "Why, land! you know 
 Young fools will always be doing so." 
 "That's right!" chimes in some ancient maid, 
 " 'Tis a wonder to me she isn't afraid 
 Of coming to want; you wouldn't catch me! 
 Oh, no!" 
 
 But then she happens to see 
 That Absalom caught the word she said. 
 And so the tip of her nose grew red, 
 (Which was all the blushing that came to view) 
 As she tries to stammer out, "How d'you do?" 
 When Absalom Day 
 In reply may say, 
 " Not much the better, old maid, for you ! " 
 
 IG 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 Now Absalom Day, like a Scottish laird, 
 
 Though poor, was certainly proud; 
 And his was a heart not easily scared, 
 
 And a head not easily bowed; 
 And yet he was only, as said before, 
 A humble clerk in the country store, 
 Where all was sold — and a little more: 
 Pins and pipes, and tea and nails, 
 Sugar and ribbon, flannel and pails. 
 Boots and butter, and tops and tape, 
 Whiting and blacking, molasses and crape. 
 Corn and crockery, leather and drugs. 
 Syrup for babes and poison for bugs. 
 Pork and peppermints, pens and ink. 
 And, out of a demijohn, "suthin' to drink." 
 Where once a day the stage-coach stopped 
 And down a meagre mail-bag dropped. 
 Which Jonathan More, who kept the store. 
 With grim, official visage bore 
 Behind the counter, into a niche 
 Sacred to letters, papers, and " sich." 
 'Twas the grand exchange for scandal and news, 
 And a wonderful place to cure the blues; 
 For there from morn till nine or ten 
 You'd generally find the leading men. 
 
 17 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 The men who held official station — 
 (You'd think, indeed, they ruled the nation!) 
 Deacon Dodd and Father Hobb, 
 And queer old Uncle Nathan Cobb, 
 Captain Keene of martial mien, 
 And the village infidel, Orville Green. 
 You'd see them all some frosty night. 
 When snow is crisp and stars are bright, 
 As round the red-hot stove they sit. 
 And talk and smoke and chew and spit. 
 And spin their yarns of this and that, 
 From Hobbses' farm to Cobbses' cat. 
 
 Well, such was the place where Absalom Day 
 Wore the prime of his youth away; 
 Till, by-and-by, he began to say, 
 " This kind of life will never pay. 
 ril toss my bundle upon my back. 
 And off ril tramp to the railroad track. 
 And take the cars for Boston, where 
 ril make my fortune, and then appear 
 Sudden, some morn, to charming Carrie 
 And ask her right away to marry; 
 And then how all the village will stare! 
 Ha! ha! who says that Absalom Day 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 Doesn't know how to make his way?" 
 And then would Absalom nod and wink, 
 And smile to himself till his eyes did blink 
 In the bright effulgence of his dreams, 
 His radiant hopes and briUiant schemes. 
 
 So time wore on from week to week 
 Ere Absalom had the heart to speak 
 Or even hint of his great design 
 To his unsuspecting Caroline. 
 At last there came a heavenly night 
 When moonbeams sifted silv'ry light 
 
 Among the slumb'ring trees. 
 And the dreamy scent of violets blent 
 
 With the softly-sighing breeze. — 
 A heavenly night! But what do you think? 
 All of a sudden, Absalom Day 
 Declared that he was going away 
 To seek his fortune! No wonder the pink 
 Grew pale on the cheek of Caroline Gray 
 As she heard the news In dumb dismay; 
 For a thunder-clap out of cloudless skies 
 Could never have given her more surprise! 
 But only those who have felt the smart 
 Of crudest Cupid's poisoned dart 
 Can know how hard it was to part. 
 
 19 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 So they promised to dream of each other each 
 
 night, 
 And every day a letter to write, 
 And vowed their love could never be bought 
 For silver or gold — and so they thought; 
 Then, suffering more than tongue could tell. 
 They bade each other a last farewell. 
 
Three wearisome weeks had dragged away 
 
 Since first to the " Hub " came Absalom Day, 
 
 When he found to his grief he had scarcely cash 
 
 Enough to pay for his attic and hash. 
 
 No wonder he tossed on his sleepless bed 
 
 With a failing heart and a feverish head, 
 
 As he saw that his prospects had " gone to smash ! " 
 
 Yet never a word did he dare to write 
 
 To Caroline Gray of his terrible plight; 
 
 Nor did he dream of her scarce one night 
 
 But he was sure to wake in a fright. 
 
 Ah ! then was the time to test and settle 
 
 The strength and weight of Absalom's mettle; 
 
 Then was the chance to gauge his mind, — 
 
 Whether 'twas one of the stronger kind, 
 
 Whether his bark would breast the wave, 
 
 Or speedily sink in a nameless grave. 
 
 'Twas a rainy night; in fact, all day 
 The rain came down in a drizzling way; 
 And the wind was east, and chilly at that. 
 And everyone felt as cross as a cat; 
 When every jaw with a hollow stump 
 Did ache and shoot and twinge and jump; 
 
 21 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 And you know It requires the saintliest grace 
 To be calm and sweet with a swollen face. 
 And some with " dyspepsy " groaned and growled, 
 And more with " rheumatiz " hopp'd and howled; 
 While others had bunions, corns, and sprains, 
 And all the hundred thousand pains 
 That plague poor mortals when it rains. 
 'Twas just the weather you "feel like fight," — 
 When sweet is bitter and day is night, 
 And nothing at all will come out right. 
 'Twas a rainy night, and Absalom Day 
 
 Was just as tired as he could be; 
 He had searched since dawn in every way, 
 
 And never a prospect could he see, — 
 Except the prospect of roofs and rows 
 Of chimney-pots and fluttering " clo'es," 
 With the patch of sky above his head 
 About the color of rusty lead. 
 'Twas down in one of those blighted streets 
 
 That once was tony and smart and fine, 
 
 But gradually sunk in a slow decline. 
 Till "Rooms to Let" the stranger greets 
 In many a pane, and where you'll find 
 Doctors' shingles of every kind, — 
 Cures by lifting and cures by shaking, 
 
 22 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 Cures by boiling and cures by baking, 
 Cures by drenching and cures by drugging, 
 Cures by pounding and cures by hugging, 
 Cures in the Hght by electric spark, 
 And cures by spirits in the dark. 
 'Twas here, in a dingy, underground room, 
 That looked more like a receiving tomb 
 Than a festive hall, where Absalom ate 
 His hash and pie, and daily met 
 A score or so of wretched creatures 
 With hungry looks and bloodless features; 
 Where sour sauce distorts the eye 
 And painted paste is " punkin-pje " ; 
 Where soda biscuits, green as lizards, 
 Take the coating off their gizzards ! 
 Ah, how unlike the toothsome food 
 
 His mother served him day by day, — 
 So clean and wholesome, plain but good, — 
 
 Among the mountains far away! 
 Alas, how far! — his boyhood's home, — 
 Beneath the blue, unclouded dome. 
 Amid the meadows green and wide, 
 With lakes and woods on every side. 
 And how unlike his room — his bed 
 With snowy sheet and patchwork spread; 
 
 23 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 With matted floor and easy-chair 
 
 Beside the window that let in the air 
 
 Laden with odors of flower and tree, 
 
 Warble of bird and murmur of bee ! 
 
 Ah, how unlike indeed ! But when 
 
 He thought of the many famous men, — 
 
 The country boys, — who made their way 
 
 To wealth and honor, he would say, 
 
 "And what's to hinder Absalom Day? 
 
 With Yankee grit and a Yankee brain, 
 
 What is the prize I may not gain?" 
 
 But, climbing up to his cheerless room, 
 
 Depressed each night with deep'ning gloom, 
 
 His roll of banknotes growing slimmer, 
 
 The lustre of his clothing dimmer, 
 
 He scarce perceives the faintest glimmer 
 
 Of hope or help this side the tomb. 
 
 No friend had he to back him then. 
 
 As "friends" are only for fortunate men; 
 
 And still too proud to tell his grief 
 
 To the one who would gladly lend relief. 
 
 So there was the battle for him to fight. 
 That called out all his mind and might; 
 There was the trial for him to meet, — 
 
 24 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 The tempter to trample beneath his feet. 
 
 'TIs easy to guide the bark aright 
 
 When winds are fair and skies are bright, 
 
 But when the storm-king rules the wave, 
 
 Then must the pilot be skilled and brave. 
 
 He is a hero who risks his life 
 
 For his country's good on the field of strife: 
 
 He is a hero who bears his flag 
 
 Till naught is left but a tattered rag; 
 
 He is a hero who lifts his arm 
 
 To shield his fellow from fatal harm; 
 
 He is a hero who buffets the wave 
 
 To pluck a soul from a watery grave, — 
 
 Who climbs the ladder with stifled breath 
 
 To snatch a babe from a fiery death. 
 
 Yes; heroes these, sublime and grand, — 
 
 The pride and boast of the proudest land; 
 
 But greater than all is the nameless youth 
 
 Whose only weapon 's the spotless Truth, — 
 
 Who laughs to scorn the tempter's power. 
 
 And stands by the Right in danger's hour. 
 
 In Blackberry Centre, you know, we left 
 A dear little maid of her lover bereft. 
 How slowly and sadly the days went by. 
 
 25 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 You could plainly read in her pensive eye. 
 
 But what gave Caroline most concern 
 
 Was to think that nothing of him could she learn. 
 
 And yet he promised each day to write, 
 
 As well as to dream of her every night; 
 
 But now some weeks had passed away, 
 
 With never a word from Absalom Day. 
 
 She knew he had reached the city all right. 
 
 For he sent her a postal that very same night. 
 
 But whether since then 'twas ill or well 
 
 With Absalom Day, she could not tell. 
 
 Sometimes a spark of jealousy came 
 
 And burned in her heart with a greenish flame: 
 
 " Oh, can it be possible he has met 
 
 Some Boston girl! Could he thus forget 
 
 So soon the sacred vows he made? 
 
 Can love so bright so quickly fade? 
 
 Oh, no! Oh, no! It cannot be! 
 
 My Absalom still is true to me." 
 
 And so, with her head on her hand at rest. 
 
 She watched the sun sink down in the west, 
 
 And the birds in pairs come home to their nest. 
 
 And then she gazed, with a yearning eye. 
 
 On the hills they had climbed in the days gone by; 
 
 26 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 And she thought of the schemes they had planned 
 
 for hfe, 
 When she should be somebody's "own little 
 
 wife"; 
 And the stars looked sad as they throbbed on high, 
 And the night-winds passed with a gentle sigh; 
 And Caroline's eyes were dim with tears, 
 For her soul was sick with doubts and fears. 
 "Oh, no!" she sobbed; "it never can be. 
 My Absalom still is true to me." 
 So thinking it over, at last she guessed 
 The trouble that Absalom hadn't confessed. 
 She knew how slender the chance he had — 
 A modest, friendless, country lad — 
 To reach the goal and grasp the prize 
 That dazzles so many ambitious eyes. 
 She knew right well of the struggle and strife 
 He had to encounter in city life; 
 She fancied him jostled from side to side, 
 Weary in limb and wounded in pride. 
 And what, perhaps, was worse than all, 
 She guessed that his means were growing small. 
 So ere that night she slept a wink. 
 She took her paper and pen and ink. 
 
 27 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 And wrote such a sweet, affectionate note 
 
 As would make one's heart leap up in one's throat. 
 
 We flatter ourselves, we bearded boys, 
 That we are deep, and can conceal 
 All that we know and do and feel, — 
 
 Our business troubles and club-house joys, — 
 From the innocent creatures who pour our tea; 
 But believe me, friend, that they can see 
 Right through and through both you and me. 
 As if your clove or cardamom seed 
 Could hide your guilt in wine and weed ! 
 Ah! foolish mortal, do you suppose 
 That only to smell the scent of a rose, 
 And not the odor that 's in your clothes, 
 She's got that cute little, pert little nose? 
 Oh, no, my friend ! your screen is glass, 
 Through which she sees that you are, alas ! 
 By no means the lion you think within. 
 But a long-eared "critter" in lion's skin. 
 So don't you ever presume to hide 
 Your fear, or shame, or sorrow, or pride 
 From the rib that was taken out of your side. 
 'Tis hers to help you in life, and to share 
 Not only your joy but also your care. 
 
 28 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 The problem that gives you weeks of pain 
 She may solve with a flash of her finer brain; 
 She may not reason so well as you, 
 But her scissors can cut the knot in two. 
 Nay, even the one that 's to be your bride, 
 'Twere well she could know the shady side 
 Of your character ere the knot is tied; 
 As, doubtless, 'twould save you each a life 
 Of sad disillusion and endless strife. 
 
 So now to Absalom let us fly, 
 Who slept that night as sweet as a child; 
 
 And when he awoke the sun was high. 
 And Nature's self rejoiced and smiled. 
 And Absalom felt refreshed and bright. 
 His head was clear and his heart was light; 
 For he seemed to hear down deep in his soul 
 A murmur of hope, like the far-away roll 
 Of the ocean that stretches from pole to pole. 
 So while he was dressing the postman came, 
 And Absalom heard him shout his name; 
 When down he ran with a rosy hue 
 And found a letter from — you know who! 
 'Twas one of those neat little tinted billets, 
 Smelling as if it had lain among lilies. 
 
 29 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 And sealed with a silver " C." 
 
 "Ah, yes! " said Ab, "this note 's for me." 
 
 Then, with a bound, he climbed the stairs 
 
 And carefully closed his chamber door; 
 And when the cover he nervously tears, 
 
 A ten-dollar bill falls down on the floor ! 
 
 A ten-dollar bill and a love-letter too! 
 Suppose such a fortune should fall to you, 
 My fellow-sufferer, what would you do? 
 No victor that ever redeemed his land. 
 No hero that comes with a rescuing hand. 
 No prophet that ever the future foretold, 
 No angel that came to the martyr of old, 
 E'er brought to a soul such a healing ray 
 As did that letter to Absalom Day. 
 
Well, time rolled on, and nothing yet 
 Turned up to save our friend from debt; 
 Altho' the secret of wealth to find 
 Deeply exercised Absalom's mind. 
 He sought with diligence far and wide, 
 And left no feasible way untried — 
 No door unlocked, no stone unturned, 
 By which a dollar may be earned. 
 He heard of many an easy way — 
 A royal road to wealth, I may say; 
 But none of them suited Absalom Day. 
 So things look'd dark on every hand; 
 For tho' he lived in a mighty land 
 His only share of it seemed to be 
 A narrow strip six feet by three. 
 
 But that was the summer of 'Sixty-One, 
 When the world was startled with Sumter's gun, 
 When America saw, with indignant eyes. 
 The serried ranks of the Rebel rise; 
 When there was work for the loyal and true, 
 And thousands found enough to do. 
 Now Absalom Day was among the first 
 
 31 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 To heed the call, tho' he had no thirst 
 
 For a hero's fame or a soldier's life, 
 
 Nor was he a strenuous lover of strife; 
 
 But he was a Yankee thro' and thro'. 
 
 So he joined the ranks of the " Boys In Blue." 
 
 The ranks are full — the hour has come; 
 Now screams the fife and rolls the drum. 
 Thro' cheering crowds the legions tread, 
 " Old Glory " waving o'er their head. 
 And as they march In stern array, 
 With silent lips, they seem to say, 
 " Farewell, dear mother, child, and wife ! 
 Farewell, sweet home ! Tho' sweet Is life, 
 To save our Land Is sweeter far. 
 March on! Behold the guiding star! 
 March on, march on for God and Right, 
 Tin northern hilltops sink from sight; 
 March on, till old Virginia sees 
 Our banners waving In the breeze." 
 
 Of all the boys In the corps, they say, 
 There was no better than Corporal Day; 
 Generous, noble, kind, and true. 
 Brave to dare and ready to do, 
 Above all mean and selfish ways, 
 On every lip was the corporal's praise. 
 
 32 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 And now, encamped on the plain, they await, 
 Week after weelc, the signal of Fate. 
 
 Some are sitting, some are standing, 
 
 Some are fishing in the lake. 
 Some are sound asleep and dreaming, 
 
 Others dreaming wide awake; 
 Some are patching up their tatters, 
 
 Others polishing their guns; 
 Some are reading ragged volumes. 
 
 Others popping sorry puns; 
 Each is using his endeavor 
 
 Thus to pass the time away; 
 All are waiting, all are ready, 
 
 All are eager for the fray. 
 When there came one morn a murmur 
 
 Like the rising of the gale, 
 " Corporal Day has got a letter 
 
 From his sister by the mail ! " 
 "Hi! a letter, boys — a letter!" 
 
 And each man is on his feet. 
 "Corporal Day has got a letter!" 
 
 How they scamper up the street ! 
 Oh, a letter from New England ! 
 
 'Tis an angel from the skies. 
 
 33 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 Some arc running up and shouting, 
 
 Others stand with tearful eyes. 
 So they gather round the corporal, 
 
 Like fishes round the bait, — 
 All hungering for the contents 
 
 Of a letter three weeks late. 
 "Now please to read it, Corporal; 
 
 Let us hear it — every word!" 
 For the crackle of the paper 
 
 Was the only sound they heard; 
 Ah, but even that was music. 
 
 And no sweeter could there be. 
 For it brought the leafy rustle 
 
 Of their dear old trysting-tree ! 
 So at last, in husky accents. 
 
 Does he read it, line by line, 
 As it tells about the corn-crop. 
 
 And the orchard and the vine, — 
 As It speaks of mother's troubles. 
 
 And of something father said; 
 How that Sally Smith is married, 
 
 And Jemima Jenkins dead;, 
 How that Jane has had a baby. 
 
 And the Jersey cow a calf; 
 And of how they're all so lonesome 
 
 34 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 That one seldom hears a laugh. 
 Even to the very postscript, 
 
 Does he read the letter through; 
 Then he waves it like a banner, 
 
 So that all might have a view. 
 Yes, for hours they could have listened, 
 
 As too brief, alas! it seems; 
 But it keeps them long a-talking, 
 
 And it lengthens out their dreams; 
 For their feet in fancy wander 
 
 O'er the hills they know so well. 
 And they linger 'neath the roof-tree 
 
 Where their hearts' affections dwell. 
 
 'Twas just in the gray 
 Of a warm summer day 
 When "Forward!" was heard; 
 And the word 
 
 Put all the long columns in motion, 
 Like billows that sweep o'er the ocean. 
 Each thought of the one that he loved. 
 As o'er the green meadows they moved. 
 They waded the stream and were mounting the 
 
 hill, 
 When over their flags came the shrill 
 And chirruping patter of bullets, and then 
 
 35 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 On the crest of the bluff the gray figures of men 
 
 'Mid puffs of blue smoke. 
 
 Then suddenly broke 
 
 A thunder-cloud over each head 
 
 With a tempest of fire and lead; 
 
 And so for long hours it raged till the dead 
 
 Lay in heaps on the bank, and the river ran red. 
 
 Wounded and fainting, and carried away, 
 
 Full soon in the action fell Corporal Day. 
 
 With a fluttering heart and a tremulous hand, 
 Poor Caroline Gray — as pale as a ghost — 
 Opened the paper that came by post. 
 
 And glanced o'er the tidings that darkened the 
 land; 
 When breathless, bewildered, and reeling, she read 
 Her Absalom's name with the wounded and dead ! 
 
 'Tis enough! 'Tis enough! No need to be told 
 Of the dark clouds of anguish that over her rolled, 
 Of her hours of loneliness, sorrow, and pain, 
 Of the fiery fever that burned in her brain. 
 Of her slow-coming strength, of her heart-hidden 
 grief, 
 
 36 
 
A New England Idvl 
 
 Of the angels of mercy that brought her relief. 
 Oh! never again may America know 
 The anguish and horror, the want and the woe, 
 The desolate hearts of that terrible day 
 When, armed for the conflict, the Blue met the 
 Gray. 
 
 Now Blackberry Centre one morning was thrown 
 Into wondrous surprise when the tidings were 
 
 known 
 That Caroline Gray had vanished away, 
 And as to her whereabouts no one could say. 
 The children came to the school, to find 
 Locked was the door and closed the blind. 
 Some waited in wonder, and some in grief. 
 And some of them uttered a sigh of relief; 
 Till, one by one, they wandered away. 
 Wondering, "Where is the teacher today! " 
 And soon the village began to stir. 
 And search on every side for her, — 
 Led on by Dodd and Father Hobb, 
 And queer old Uncle Nathan Cobb, 
 Captain Keene of martial mien, 
 And the village infidel, Orville Green. 
 
 37 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 They searched the school, they ransacked her 
 
 room, 
 They even tapped on the family tomb; 
 They dragged the river, they scoured the plain, 
 They beat the forest; but all in vain! 
 They peeked and poked in every place, 
 But failed to find one track or trace 
 Of Caroline's hand, or foot, or face. 
 At last they all began to say 
 That Carrie must have been carried away 
 By a patent-medicine vender, who 
 Had disappeared that morning, too. 
 He was a singular sort of a chap, 
 With a cutaway coat and a velvet cap, 
 A waxed moustache and a sallow skin. 
 And coal-black eyes that looked like sin; 
 His head was covered with shining curls, 
 His teeth were white and even as pearls, 
 And he always joked with the prettiest girls. 
 His voice was soft and, indeed, I must say 
 That he certainly had a winning way, — 
 Winning enough to dispose of a lot 
 Of his worthless trash; for I guess there was not 
 A house in the village in which, I am sure. 
 You couldn't have found a bottle or more. 
 
 38 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 And warranted all diseases to cure. 
 
 The case was plain to the Blackberry people 
 
 As the gilded vane of the orthodox steeple. 
 
 At least 'twas plain to Dodd and Hobb, 
 
 And queer old Uncle Nathan Cobb, 
 
 Who being the wealthiest men in the place, 
 
 Of course, to the rest, 'twas a settled case. 
 
 And so they met in the village store 
 
 And talked the matter o'er and o'er. 
 
 One said he " always thought that Carrie 
 
 Seemed in a wonderful hurry to marry; 
 
 And only for Prudence Flint, they say. 
 
 She'd gone and married that Absalom Day." 
 
 Says Nathan Cobb, with a knowing wink, 
 
 " The gals be all in a hurry, I think." 
 
 "Amen to that," groaned Deacon Dodd; 
 
 " But then, to my mind, 'tis mighty odd 
 
 Why sich a sensible gal should go 
 
 For to run away with a peddler so." 
 
 "Ah, yes! " says Hobb, "but thar's none kin tell 
 
 What a woman is till you knows her well." 
 
 "That's so," moaned Dodd; "without a doubt, 
 
 They're all very nice till they're found out." 
 
 Says Nathan Cobb, " I'm inclined to say 
 
 She's gone a-huntin' fur Abs'lum Day. 
 
 39 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 She had this hankerin' arter the lad, 
 An' ye knows what a mis'ble time she 's had 
 Sence he were wounded thar to Ball's Bluff." 
 Cries Father Hobb, "Why, sure enough! 
 Thar's no knowin' zvhat a gal may do 
 When she falls in love with a boy in blue; 
 P'rhaps she's 'listed herself — who knows? — 
 An' is nussin' 'im now — in sojer's clo'es." 
 "Pshaw! no indeed!" growls Deacon Dodd; 
 "For Absalom Day is under the sod, — 
 Bein' shot and killed two months ago; 
 She's run away with the quack, I know." 
 And so they talked, and the scandal spread, 
 Till Caroline's name was a name of dread; 
 But I dare not tell one-quarter they said, 
 As Charity, too, had apparently fled. 
 
And now let us haste to the South again, 
 
 Where bullets are flying like winter rain, 
 
 And fields are red with the gore of the slain. 
 
 Ay, this is War! The ground, you see, 
 
 Is thickly strewn; but follow me. 
 
 Horse and rider, wagon and wheel. 
 
 Cannon and caisson, leather and steel. 
 
 And a thousand nameless, shattered things 
 
 That frenzied Battle in fury flings, 
 
 Lie scattered in wild confusion round, — 
 
 A nation's wreck bestrews the ground. 
 
 The rising moon, like a blood-red shield. 
 
 Throws ghastly shadows athwart the field. 
 
 Our footsteps cling to the pitchy mud; 
 
 The kneaded clay is soaked in blood. 
 
 And lifeless fingers seem to grasp. 
 
 And rigid hands in agony clasp. 
 
 And Hate on many a marble face 
 
 Forever is stamped in Death's embrace. 
 
 But fear you not. Of this mighty throng, 
 
 Not a man may arise to do you wrong; 
 
 For the tempest of Battle is hushed to a breath, 
 
 And Victory sleeps on the bosom of Death. 
 
 41 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 "You ask to be shown the hospital-shed?" 
 To a trembling girl, the surgeon said. 
 "Follow my lead — I'll show the way. 
 Fearful indeed was the work today. 
 We're almost there. One's senses swim, 
 And things look weird, unearthly, dim. 
 Beware that trench! Too nigh the rim, 
 You're apt to slip. It must be Love 
 That brings you here like a messenger-dove, — 
 Here, in the midst of the mould'ring dead; 
 Here, to the hideous hospital-shed;, 
 Here, where Woman should never be; 
 Here, with horrors she dares not see. 
 Yet, like an angel, calm and sweet, 
 She comes — she comes with winged feet. 
 O God ! She comes to a hell like this, — , 
 Wand'ring away from heavenly bliss; 
 A beam of light in a dungeon dank; 
 A blooming rose among brambles rank; 
 A single star, through storm-clouds riven; 
 A link that binds us still to Heaven. 
 See — here is the place — the hospital shed! 
 Here are the living and there — the dead. 
 No wonder you start and tremble so, — 
 'Tis a frightful hole. Do you think you'll know 
 
 42 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 His face again? In this stifling room, 
 
 Scores are waiting their welcome doom, — 
 
 Wishing for death 
 
 At every breath, 
 
 And envying those who are in their tomb. 
 
 There! See that man in the filthy hay — 
 
 Pale and ghastly and wasted away; 
 
 They tell me his name is Absalom Day. 
 
 Alas, poor boy ! One breath of air. 
 
 One cup of water, cool and clear. 
 
 From his mountain-home — could we but bear 
 
 To his livid lips, his burning brow ! 
 
 One deed, one word of kindness now, — 
 
 One gentlest touch of a human hand. 
 
 That he may feel in a Christian land, — 
 
 One act of love, however small. 
 
 Ere yet the spirit burst its thrall 
 
 To join the ranks at the general call 
 
 Of the last great Muster Day. 
 But no ! He must sink to a nameless grave 
 In the land whose honor he dies to save; 
 For, ere the morrow, the guards will come 
 And, finding his blue lips cold and dumb. 
 
 Will hustle him out of the way." 
 
 43 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 The morning dawns, and Absalom's eyes 
 Languidly open in dreamy surprise, — 
 Surprise to find that lingering Death 
 Still delays to stifle his breath, — 
 Causes him still to groan in pain, — 
 Rendering all his longings vain. 
 "What! Still alive! 'Tis coming now! 
 I feel the cold sweat bead my brow. 
 I see a vision, bright and sweet: 
 I seem to see the village street, — 
 My own loved home — I know it well. 
 I hear — I hear the Sabbath-bell. 
 I seem to hear the murmuring rills; 
 I seem to see the dear old hills — 
 The church — the store — the mill. How plain 
 Before my mind they come again ! 
 Is this a dream? Or am I dead? 
 An angel bends above my head. 
 She smiles ! How sweet ! She fans my brow 
 With fragrant wing. What! Can it be? 
 Or do I dream, and seem to see? 
 It must! Great Heaven, 'tis she — 
 My love!" 
 
 Ah, is he dreaming now? 
 No, no! The visions fade away — 
 
 44 
 
 LofC. 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 His arms are round his Carrie Gray. 
 
 " O Woman, in our hours of ease, 
 Uncertain, coy, and hard to please; 
 But, when affliction clouds the brow, 
 A ministering angel thou ! " 
 This sentiment you'll find in Scott, 
 And in your hearts, if you have got 
 Hearts that have ever known in life 
 A mother's love, a sister's care. 
 Or, what is still more angel-rare. 
 The deep devotion of a wife. 
 
 Excuse this digression. Permit me to say 
 That I was in Blackberry Centre one day, 
 Not very long after the railroad was laid; 
 But oh, what a change the years had made ! 
 The village didn't look half so sweet. 
 Nor the people near so happy and neat; 
 For city shoddy had found them out 
 And turned their heads to the right about. 
 The girls were following Fashion's tracks. 
 With bunches of ribbon pinned to their backs; 
 And the boys endeavored to dazzle their eyes 
 In shop-worn suits and harlequin ties. 
 
 45 
 
Corporal Day 
 
 The river had shrunk to a stony trench, 
 
 And half the people jabbered in French. 
 
 Well, I thought I'd just step into the store 
 
 Where all was sold and a little more. 
 
 When, lo and behold! 'twas the same as before; 
 
 The pork and peppermints, pens and ink; 
 
 But out of the demijohn — nothing to drink, — 
 
 Nothing stronger than ginger beer; 
 
 For really the law 's enforced up there, 
 
 And nothing 's imbibed by any, (except 
 
 By those who know where the liquor is kept). 
 
 And who should I see but Dodd and Hobb 
 
 And queer old Uncle Nathan Cobb, — 
 
 Not quite so chipper, of course, I found; 
 
 But able still to be up and around. 
 
 And there were the rest of them, too, as before — 
 
 The loafers that haunt a country store, 
 
 On box and barrel, and round the door; 
 
 And behind the counter, brisk and gay. 
 
 Plump and jolly, — who, do you say? 
 
 Yes; you have it — Corporal Day! 
 
 " This is Corporal Day," said I, 
 
 "Or else his spirit that I see here?" 
 " Himself," quoth he, with a twinkling eye, 
 
 " In flesh and blood, and never you fear." 
 
 46 
 
A New England Idyl 
 
 "A clerk again, you poor old — hoss?" 
 " Why, yes," said Ab, " both clerk and boss. 
 I own the store; 
 And, what is more, 
 
 I own that cottage across the way." 
 "You don't!" said I 
 With an envious sigh* 
 
 " For that 's the cottage of Caroline Gray." 
 " It was," said he, " but I'm happy to tell 
 That I own Carrie herself as well." 
 Cries Nathan Cobb, "That ain't quite true; 
 For some folks sez as she owns you." 
 Here Absalom blushed, and Dodd and Hobb, 
 And queer old Uncle Nathan Cobb, 
 And every loafer round the store 
 Went into fits, with a thundering roar. 
 "Why, didn't you know," quoth Deacon Dodd, 
 Tipping the others a wink and a nod, — 
 " Didn't you know that Carrie and he 
 Have sot up shop — now, let me see — 
 I 'most forget, so fast time flies; 
 But look! D'ye see them three little babs, 
 There by the doorstep makin' mud-pies?" 
 
 47 
 
Corporal Dav 
 
 " I do," said I. " Wall; them 's all Ah's." 
 
 Of course, after that, I had nothing to say. 
 Except to congratulate Corporal Day. 
 
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