% ■r^i'^<^ * f '^^ 4 . ••V r^- ■.^■v^t' •''■*i>;jJi...'». / / 't^ Idyls of Battle AND POEMS OF THE REBELLION. By HOWAED GLYNDON. ^ /7>'.yV" (lauka c. reddeis.) ^%OJuA' God ! how this land grows rich in loyal blood Poured out upon it to its utmost length ; The incense of a nation's sacrifice — The wrested offering of a nation's strength ! It is the costliest land beneath the sun ! 'T is priceless, purchaseless I And not a rood Bvit hath its title written clear, and signed In some slain hero's consecrated blood ! NEW YORK: PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON, 4C1 BROADWAY, COR. WALKER ST. ^1865. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by HuRD AND Houghton, in the Clerk's Office of the, District Court of the Southern District of New York. RIVEESIDE, CAMBRIDGE : BTEREOTTPED AND PRINTED BY H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. To One WHOSE QUIET WORDS OF PEAISE WOULD MAKE ME PROUD- EST OF all; BUT WHOSE NAME IS TOO SACKED TO BE WRITTEN UPON THIS PAGE: WHO WAS TO MY PAST, IN THE HIGHEST SENSE OF THE WORDS, FRIEND AND COUNSELLOR, AND WHOSE PRESENCE IN THE HEREAFTER WT:LL BE DEAREST TO ME, AFTER GOD'S, K consecrate t!)is, MY FIRST ENDEAVOR. Shall not the earnest spirit plead for the untried hand? CONTENTS. — « — PAGB Preface to Subscribers' Edition • 1 In Time of War 5 Left on the Battle-Fif.ld 8 To THE Earnest Thinkers 10 After the Victories 12 De Profundis 15 For the Stricken • 17 The Story of Sumter 19 Watch-Night ■ 24 The Legend of our Victories 27 The Latest War News 33 Mitchell 36 The Fall of Lexington, Missouri 38 Come we to This ? 41 Baker 43 Our Sacrifice • — 45 Union forever 48 Resurgam 52 On the Dead List 54 Belle Missouri 57 Douglas 60 The Snow in October • • 63 To a Hero, with a Sword 67 To a Patriot 69 vi CONTENTS. PAGE YlCKSBURG 71 Loyalty's Last Effort 73 An Appeal 76 Truth is Invincible • 81 Ranked higher • • • 83 The Snow at Fredericksburg 85 The Battle of Gettysburg 88 The Graves OF Gettysburg-- 92 The Ransomed Banner • • 95 Bringing him Home 98 Preaching in Camp 103 Jefferson Davis 106 The President's Proclamation • 109 A Greeting for a New Year--- Ill A Supplication- 114 The Volunteer's Return •• 116 Our Cause 120 My Absent Soldier • • • . • 126 L. H. R. ••••• 129 Mt Story • • • • • 130 Waiting for Yictory 134 Charge of Blair's Brigade at Yicksburg 137 Lost in the Wilderness 139 Butler's Black Brigade 142 To A. E. .-•- 145 Kentucky's Crittenden 146 The Quiet Man • • 148 H. T. B. 150 The Last Poem • • - • • • • ' • 151 PKEFACE TO SUBSCRIBERS' EDITION. TO the gentlemen whose names follow these lines I owe most cordial and grateful acknowledgments for friendly en- couragement and active cooperation with me in the work of getting out this volume. One and all, they have my most fervent thanks. Hon. A. LiKCOLN, President U. S. U. S- Grant, Lieut.- General U. S. Hon. J. A. Griswold, M. C, Troy, New York. H. D. Bacon, Esq., St. Louis, Missouri. Hon. H. T. Blow, M. C, St. Louis, Missouri. Hon. John P. Hale, United States Senate, New Hampshire. Hon. John Conness, U. S. S., San Francisco, California. Hon. TiMON O. Howe, U. S. S., Wisconsin. Maj.-Gen. L. H. Rousseau, Army of the Ohio. Hon. Robert C. Schenck, M. C, Ohio. Hon. Henry Wilson, U. S. S., Massachusetts. Col. H. S. McCoMB, Wilmington, Delaware. Ex-Gov. E. D. Morgan, U. S. S., New York. Hon. E. Delafield Smith, U. S. District Attor- ney, New York. 2 PREFACE J. W. Parrish, Esq., St. Louis, Missouri. Samuel Hallett, Esq., New York.* Hon. Schuyler Colfax, M. C, Indiana. Hon. John B. Steele, M. C, Kingston, New York. John D. Perry, Esq., St. Louis, Missouri. Hon. J. A. Garfield, M. C, Ohio. Dr. W. K. Mehaffey, Washington, D. C. Hon. J. A. Cravens, M. C, Hardensburgh, Indiana. Hon. B. F. Loan, M. C, St. Joseph, Missouri. Hon. J. W. McClurg, M. C, Linn Creek, Missouri. Hon. B. Van Valkenburg, M. C, Bath, New York. Hon. E. C. Ingersoll, M. C, Peoria, Illinois. Hon. John G. Scott, M. C, Irondale, Missouri. Hon, Wm. D. Kelley, M. C, Philadelphia, Pa. Hon. J. A. J. Creswell, M. C, Elkton, Md. Hon. Francisco Perea, Delegate from New Mexico. Hon. Augustus Frank, M. C, New York. Hon. LuciAN Anderson, M. C, Mayfield, Ky. Hon. E. H. Webster, M. C, Belair, Md. Hon. Ben. Wood, M. C, New York City. Hon. Thos. T. Davis, M. C, Syracuse, New York. Ex-Gov. Wm. Sprague, U. S. S., Rhode Island. Hon. Samuel Hooper, M. C, Boston, Mass. Hon. Lewis W. Ross, M. C, Lewistown, 111. Hon. T. W. Kellogg, M. C, Grand Rapids, Mich- igan. ' Hon. Green Clay Smith, M. C, Covington, Ky. J. B. Stewart, Esq., Washington, D. C. * Deceased. TO SUBSCRIBERS' EDITION. 3 Hon. Nehemiah Perry, M. C, Newark, New Jersey. Hon. C. H. Winfield, M. C, Goshen, New York. Hon. H. P. Bennett, Delegate from Colorado Ter- ritory. Hon. J. F. Farns WORTH, M. C, St. Charles, 111. Hon. J. A. Jenkes, M. C, Providence, E,. I. Hon. N. B. Smithers, M. C, Dover, Delaware. Hon. Thos. D Eliot, M. C, New Bedford, Mass. Hon. H. C. Deming, M. C, Hartford, Connecticut. Hon. Leonard Myers, M. C, Philadelphia, Pa. Hon. J. O'Neil, M. C, Zanesville, Ohio. Hon. W. B. Allison, M. C, Dubuque, Iowa. Hon. Wm. Higby, M. C, California. Hon. Cornelius Cole, M. C, California. Hon. M. F. Odell, M. C, New York. IN TIME OF WAR. rtlHERE are white faces in each sunny street, - And signs of trouble meet us everywhere ; The nation's pulse hath an unsteady beat, For scents of battle foul the summer air. A thrill goes through the city's busy life, And then — as when a strong man stints his breath — A stillness comes ; and each one in his place Waits for the news of triumph, loss, and death. The " Extras " fall like rain upon a drought, And startled people crowd around the board 6 IN TIME OF WAR. Whereon the nation's sum of loss or gain In rude and hurried characters is scored. Perhaps it is a glorious triumph-gleam — An earnest of our Future's recompense ; Perhaps it is a storj of defeat, Which smiteth like a fatal pestilence. * But whether Failure darkens all the land, Or whether Victory sets its blood ablaze, An awfiil cry, a mighty throb of pain, Shall scare the sweetness from these sum- mer days. Young hearts shall bleed, and older hearts shall break, A sense of loss shall be in many a place ; And oh, the bitter nights ! the weary days ! The sharp desire for many a buried face ! God ! how this land grows rich in Iryal blood, Poured out upon it to its utmost length I IN TIME OF WAR. 7 The incense of a people's sacrifice, — The wrested offering of a people's strength ! It is the costliest land beneath the sun ! 'T is priceless, purchaseless ! And not a rood But hath its title written clear and signed In some slain hero's consecrated blood. And not a flower that gems its mellowing soil But thriveth well beneath the holy dew Of tears, that ease a nation's straining heart, When the Lord of battles smites it through and through. LEFT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD, |H, my darling ! my darling ! never to feel Your liand going over my liair ! Never to lie in your arms again, — - Never to know where you are ! Oh, the weary miles that stretch between My feet and the battle-ground, Where all that is left of my dearest hope Lies under some yellow mound ! It is but little I might have done To lighten your parting pain ; But 'tis bitter to think that you died alone Out in the dark and the rain ! Oh, my hero love ! — to have kissed the pam And the mist from your fading eyes ! LEFT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 9 To have saved one only passionate look To sweeten these memories ! And tliinking of all, I am strangely stunned, And cannot believe you dead. You loved me, dear ! And I loved you, dear ! And your letter lies there, unread ! You are not dead ! You are not dead ! God never could will it so — To craze my brain and break my heart And shatter my life — I know ! Dead ! dead ! and never a word, Never a look for me ! Dead ! dead ! and our marriage-day Never on earth to be ! I am left alone, and the world is changed, So dress me in bridal white. And lay me away in some quiet place Out of the hateftd light. TO THE EARNEST THINKERS. r F tlie mist of failure, gray, Cloud tlie breaking of the day. For whose coming all the waiting millions pray, — If misgivings dull and rust The first brightness of their trust, — Let the earnest thinkers open up the way. Show each brave, impatient soul How the waves of failure roll Back from brows that sternly front the wait- ing goal ; How the single-handed right, In its God-anointed might. Dares to meet and conquer evil's legioned whole. TO THE EARNEST THINKERS. 11 Show them how a brief defeat Hath its uses pure and sweet, — How it fires the brain, the soul, with newer heat ; Failure's lowest dej^ths we sound, Then, with terrible rebound, Up the heights of triumph go our conquering feet ! Show them how the Truth is strong When it battles with the Wrong, Though the coward quail before the struggle long ; How the soldier of the Ridit Dares the fierce, unequal fight. Leaping fearless into Treason's armed throng I Earnest thinkers of the day ! It is yours to clear the way. While our soldiers fight, our women work and pray ; Send your stirring words abroad For the Right — for Truth — for God ! With the prophet's fiery spu:it seal your say ! AFTER THE VICTORIES. T"T"A ! the wine-press of pain hath been trodden ! And suffering's meed mantles high, — The perfect, rare wine, wrought of patience, It moveth aright to the eye ! Oh ! dark was the night while we trampled Its death-purple grapes under foot ; And no song parted silence from darkness, For Liberty's Sibyl was mute ! And the fiends of the lowest were loosened, To persecute Truth at their will ! They spat on her white shining forehead, She standing unmoved and still ! The hiss of the white-blooded coward, The vile breath of calumny's brood, Befouled and bedarkened the kingdom. And poisoned the place where we stood ! AFTER THE VICTORIES. 13 We, — treading the ripe grapes asunder, With faihng and overworked feet ; Alone in the terrible darkness, Alone in the stifling heat ; With agonj-drops raining over Our weak hands from desolate brows ; With a deadlier pain in our spirits. O'er whose failure no promise arose. Shook the innermost being of justice. Stirred the innermost pulse of our God, With a cry of remonstrance whose anguish Fri2:hted devils and saints from its road ! All the pain of a long-martyred nation, All its giant heart's overtasked strength, In one Samson-hke throe were unfettered, Standing up for a hearing at length ! And, even as we fell in the darkness — Falling down, with our mouths in the dust. With toil-stained and blood-dyed garments That betokened us true to our trust. When the laugh of the scoffer was loudest, 14 AFTER THE VICTORIES. And the clapping of cowardly hands, A glory blazed out from the Westward, That startled the far-distant lands ! ****** Ha ! the wine-press of pain hath been trodden! Now summon the laborers forth ! Let them come in their red-dyed garments. The lion-browed sons of the North ! Not for failure their veins have been leavened With the vintage of Seventy-six ! Nor unworthy the blood of our heroes With its rare olden currents to mix ! Ha ! Conquerors ! Come ye out boldly, Full fronting our reverent eyes ! In the might of your glorious manhood, Ye Saviours of Freedom, arise ! Come out in your sun-ripened grandeur, Ye victors, who wrestled with Wrong ! Come ! toil-worn and weary with battle, — We greet you with shout and with song ! DE PROFUNDIS. AFTER A DEFEAT. A H, God! shall tears poured out like rain, And deathly pangs, and praying breath, And faith as deep and strong as death, Be given — and all in vain ? Thou claimest martyrs, — they are given, - What shall the stern demand suffice ? From out our darkened homes arise Strong cries that startle Heaven. We murmur not, enduring all With broken hearts but silent lips ; With all our glories in eclipse, And some beyond recall. 16 DE PROFUNDIS. We stand beside our dead, our eyes In patient sufferance raised to Tliee, And kiss the still brows reverently, — Behold our sacrifice ! Behold our sacrifice ! We give The best blood of a suffering land ! A nation's heart by its own hand Is stricken — that Right may live ! No failure this ! God's own right hand A victory shall write it down I The years shall strengthen its renown ; Be proud of it, Land ! Thou Christ ! The Godhood of thy brow Paled 'neath the throes of mortal pain ; But all thy glory glows again, Thrice-haloed, round thee now ! Give us the martyr's steadfast power. So, passing our Gethsemane, Our glory shall but brighter be For this, our trial hour ! FOR THE STRICKEN. IN MEMORIAM. WISTFUL eyes I tliat will not cease From gazing sadly after one Who went out in tlie dark alone, Althougli ye say, " He is at peace ! " O hearts ! that will not turn away, But questioning stand without the door ; He passeth through it never more, For he hath reached the perfect day ! Even when we thought him most our own, His crown was nearest to his brow ; And he redeemed his early vow, And passed, with all his armor on. 18 FOR THE STRICKEN. He turned to clasp a shadowy hand, Unreal to our duller eyes ; He saw the gleams of Paradise Break through the darkness of the land. His gain exceedeth all our loss ; We linger on these barren sands, — He is a dweller in the lands Bequeathed the soldiers of the cross ! lam. i£ THE STORY OF SUMTER. THEN. |VER sea and over city slowlj crept the sullen morn, All the splendor of its dawning by a grow- ing shadow curst ; And the sunless sky that sphered us nursed a tempest yet unborn, But we waited on the Battery * for another storm to burst. Grim, defiant, as some olden warrior clad in chilly mail, Sullen, signless silence brooding o'er its weather-beaten face. From its brow the vapor rifted by the fresh- ening eastern gale, * The battery of Charleston harbor. 20 THE STORY OF SUMTER. Saw we Sumter, as tlie grayiiess of tlie morning waned apace. Ha ! the sluggish day is shaken from its still- ness by a growl, The defiance of the Southron — spoken from the cannon's mouth — Blazes out the fiery ruin from beneath its smoky cowl. And within the walls of Sumter falls the gauntlet of the South ! No response unto the challenge ! Are they powerless to defy ? But what flutters from the ramparts as the vapor parts away ? Still their own insulted colors o'er the daunt- less heroes fly, Flaunting all their braided«splendors in the sullen face of day ! t^h ! behind those silent bulwarks, rising grimly from the sea. Waiting for the stealthy coming of the death-dispensing shell. THE STORY OF SUMTER. 21 There's a band of fearless spirits; guess how many strong tliey be, — They who stood so long and bravely, ere their glorious banner fell ! Seventy men to man the ramparts and to work each giant gun ! Only these to face the Southrons, who are seven thousand strong ! Bravely toiled they from the dawnmg to the setting of the sun, — Bursting shell and shot around them in a ceaseless fiery throng ! Fast and faster belched the ruin from the sulphurous, yawning jaws Of the seven Southern batteries, armed and ready for the work ; All the day and all the night long well were plied their greedy maws. And until the second morning broke dis- consolate and murk. Fire withm and foes without them! Yet they struggled long and well, 22 THE STORY OF SUMTER. From beneath their blazing shelter holding out against a host, / Ere the colors of the loyal from the crest of Sumter fell, And the gallant Seventy slowly left their well-defended post ! Apkil, 1861. NOW. Now the tender budding greenery brightens all the earth again, But the sprouting grass is reddened with the angry bloom of war ! By the hearthstones of the nation only sounds the wail of pain, While our hero soldiers struggle in the glo- rious fight afar. Thy Nemesis, O Sumter ! was the tlirill that shook the land ; When the tidings of thy spoihng brought the nation to its feet. Then was clenched, with stern intention, in- jured Loyalty's right hand ; THE STORY OF SUMTER. 23 Its insulted front was lifted proudly up the taunt to meet ! Murmur not in doubt, my brothers, at this trial rite of blood, — , At this purging out of error from the arte- ries of the land ! Never yet the walls of Treason the assault of Eight withstood ; Ere another year hath circled ye shall prove it where ye stand ! April, 1864. WATCH-NIGHT. JD I frighten you, motlier, — so white and cold, And so silently here at your bed ? I could not sleep on this terrible night. For the battle of which we read. To think of the dead lying out in this rain, Not minding its dreary fall, — Of that mad, mad fight on the side of the hill ; And he — he was in it all ! They say he was foremost in every charge. Till the hardiest held their breath. Or paused in the struggle to raise a cheer For the man who was quits with death ! They say he was quiet and just the same, - No paler when acting his part ; WATCH-NIGHT. 25 But I know, I know liow he went away, Stabbed even to the inmost heart. But the fiercest pain for a tender soul Is doubt and its jealous pride ; Though we do not die when we suffer so, Till the faithful are justified. I tore his ring from my worthless hand, Denying my name of wife ; But I wear him yet in my heart of hearts. And I love him with all my life. I must go to him ! I shall never rest Till I falter before his feet ; And there I shall die if he raise me not, And cure me with kisses sweet ! I shall die ! I shall die if I may not look Once more in my hero's eyes, And see the fire of the olden love In their passionate deeps arise ! I have wronged his truth, I have wronged his love. And aU for a whispered lie ! 26 WATCH-NIGHT. I have sent him to wander in search of death. Ah, mother, if he should die ! I will suffer all ; I deserve it all ! But, mother, I 'm mad to go, And beg him to take me hack again, For I love him — I love him so ! THE LEGEND OF OUR VICTORIES IN '61-'62. TTTHAT, lio ! ye valiant wrestlers ! ^ Ye soldiers of the Right ! Full armed by Truth and Justice To battle lawless Might. Ho ! I have glorious tidings ! Come, list the tale I tell, How the cause of Union triumphed, And the crest of Treason fell. Too long this fair young kingdom, The Empire of the West, Had borne a blasting stigma Upon her virgin breast ! Too long the brazen foreheads Of a many-headed Wrong 28 THE LEGEND OF OUR VICTORIES. Were lifted up in triumph Above a murmuring throng I And the leal heart of the patriot Was heavy for our^hame ; And we trembled for the glory Of our country's growing fame ; But a noble-hearted pity Held back the righteous blow, For, alas ! we knew a brother In the face of every foe. Our wise men, looking Southward, Beheld the coming storm ; It had gathered, it had ripened. While they sounded the alarm. The pestilence grew fouler, And no comfort blessed our eyes. For the fiend that sowed this discord Had flouted all disguise. We all remember Sumter, And the battle's growing hum, — THE LEGEND OF OUR VICTORIES. 29 How the noise of tinkling cymbals Was deadened by the drum. Manassas stands a warning To our Future from our Past ; And these skies that gleam so bluely At Ball's Bluff were overcast. Oh ! then went up to Heaven A strong and mingled sound : There were curses, there were pleadings, And tears falling to the ground. And twin-born Strife and Treason Went stalking hand in hand ; And ouv friends across the ocean Spied the bareness of the land. But at last we turned upon them,_ And stood in proud array ; In the West and to the Southward Our thunders shook the day I On either flank beleaguered. Two foes our strength divide ; But Disunion, Fraud, and Euin Fell down on either side ! 30 THE LEGEND OF OUR VICTORIES. Bravely they worked together ! The framers of the lie That teaches we have struggled, And succeeded — hut to die ; That teaches our achievements And our growing hopes are nought ; That laughs to scorn the maxims That our patriot fathers taught. We sought to save the Union ; They strove to blot the name Of Freedom's chosen country From the royal scroll of fame. We strove to save the record Wrought out by sacred hands ; But they to make their birthright The prey of distant lands. Ho ! planters of the South land ! Ho ! yoemen of the North ! Ye who love our glorious Union, Fling its banner proudly forth ! For the dastard front of Treason Quails beneath this sturdy blow ; THE LEGEND OF OUR VICTORIES. 31 And if we stand together, We shall lay the curser low ! We won't give up the Union ! Go shout it far and wide ! Missouri's head is lifted Once more in queenly pride ; And Tennessee, unfettered. At length may proudly stand I Out with the hand of greeting, All true hearts in the land ! And farther, farther Southward, From " the dark and bloody ground,' From the crimson fields of Arkansas, Our triumph-notes resound ! And proudly o'er the waters Our braided colors fly, — That flag whose splendors gladdened Full many^ dymg eye ! Shout for the glorious Union ! Shout for the triumph gained ! 32 THE LEGEND OF OUR VICTORIES. In the hour that gave it to us The star of Treason waned ! Well done, stanch hearts and loyal 1 We yet shall win the day, And see this fell disorder Pass from the land away ! Nerve ! nerve ! each good right arm again, And forward for the Right ! And Union's stainless banner Shall conquer lawless Might. THE LATEST WAR NEWS. /^ PALE, pale face ! O helpless hands ! ^-"^ Sweet eyes by fruitless watching wronged ; Yet turning ever towards the lands Where War's red hosts are thronged ! She shudders when they tell the tale Of some great battle fought and won ; Her sweet child face grows old and pale, Her heart falls like a stone. And yet 't is not such weary pain As when you went away ; Oh, I suffered and I missed you so^ Through every dreary day ! And then 't was dreadful, when the night Brought back your darling face. And gave me in a mocking dream Its dear, remembered grace. 118 THE VOLUNTEERS RETURN. To start and stretcli my yearning arms And clasp the empty air, — To waken in the cold and dark And feel you were not there ! To know that you were lost, darling, To me forever more, — To know my soul's young life had shed The freshness that it wore When we walked together hand in hand, And I looked up to you, To read within your eyes your thought Of all that I might do ! Too late, too late I found, darling, You were the world to me ! My highest pride, no matter what The careless eye might see. But I never wronged you, even in thought. My pulse's lightest heat Was yours, even as the faithful heart You trampled 'neath your feet. THE VOLUNTEER'S RETURN. IIS But now you know it all, darling, You know that I was true, — They could not stir one bitter thought For all that they could do ; Within your strong and tender arms This last time let me lie, And tell me J:hat you love me, dear, Once more before I die ! I do not mind it now, darling ; Here, take my hand in thine, — You may find a brighter, fairer face, But ne'er a heart like mine ! Oh, hold me closer, closer yet, And kiss me ere we part ! I 'd rather die and keep your love, Than live and lose your heart ! OUR CAUSE IN 1861. >Y all the undying memories of the past, Which shall this hour of treacherous calm outlast, We know we stand Above an Etna of unquenched fire. Which, soon or late, shall burst upon the land In its resistless ire. These gauds which deck its sod in gay array, Must soon be torn away, — The awfal secret from its depths come forth, To scare the wondering earth ! Because an evil power, In one unguarded hour, OUR CAUSE. 121 Guised in the folds of Freedom's virgin vest, Crept into a great nation's peaceful breast. None dreamed of inward foe ; And, working sure, but slow. At length the Curse, with high uplifted head, Defied, and sought to tread Into the dust the friend whose heart its life had cherished ! The soul of Treason came. And breathed with breath of flame On the cool waters of a nation's rest ; And Wrong walked through the land, With overbearing hand ; And fi:om the East to the resounding West, Contention's brands flared out. And Indignation raised the mutinous shout ! A band of frantic fools, Gone mad upon the isms of the day, Are Treason's chosen tools. Drawn up against us, in a rash array ! 122 OUR CAUSE. Our equals, and our brothers yet, — but late They seek to rank above us in the State, To wrest from us a God-donated right, By force of fraud or might. Of all hope for the present now bereft, What course to us is left ? But one. And yet. We cannot quite forget They are co-claimants in each blood-bought right ; That, hand to hand to Freedom's fearless fight Their sires with ours went forth, — Though, in the oneness of their patriot worth. They knew not of a separate South or North. And could they live To view the fortunes of this desperate day, We know that they would give Their blessing to our Union's Bights ar- ray! The cause in which they fought. OUR CAUSE. 123 In that our deeds are wrought. Our foes must understand, No impious human hand May dare their sacred compact set at nought ! But they who say That hands of ours have lit this balefiil fire, — They wrong the hon at bay, Mistake the impulse of our righteous ire ! No ! loyal hearts bleed for the wanton wreck That envy's hand hath made, — To see our glorious star-crown pale and fade, And Treason's dastard foot on Union's neck ; Even tears of living blood could not atone The grievous wrong unto our Present done I Be it upon the heads Of those who sought to tread The interests of their brothers in the dust I They were recreant to each sacred trust. Our temperate pleas were thrust 9 124 OUR CAUSE. Back with insulting defiance to our hand ; We were driven to the wall, — We must either fight or fall, — No choice was left us but this desperate stand. But, brothers, we are strong, Clad in the God-bom might which doth be- long To every soul that hath its quarrel just, Not on the treacherous sand we plant our trust, But on an enduring rock, Which feeleth not the shock Of each presumptuous and assaulting Wrong. God fighteth for the Right ! He will our prayers requite, And lead us from this darkness to the hght ! Oh, we could pray that Peace, With its soft, silken ease, Might settle down upon our troubled land, And stay the impious hand OUR CAUSE. 125 That would dissolve the band That holds the jewels of our country's crown ! But be it life or death, Soft words or defiant breath, The motto of our banner gleameth bright, Triumphant o'er the night, — God and our life-blood for the assaulted Right ! IN 1864. Oh, triumph-bells, ring out, And voice the exultant shout, — The anthemed chorus of a Nation's soul I The tides of battle roll Our Venture to its goal ! And, on the forehead of this war-worn age, The Angel of all time Shall grave a deathless rhyme ; We pause to turn the last unwritten page, Whose story shall each unborn race engage. MY ABSENT SOLDIER. Tj^VENING shades are falling, dearest, "^"^ Night is drawing on, And the sweet stars look out shyly, Slowly, one by one ; And I count them, with my forehead Pressed agamst the pane ; We did it once together, dearest, Now I do so once again. When I fold my hands, dearest, To breathe a " good-night " prayer, Whose name is it lingers longest On the evening air ? Yours. And then I slumber softly ; For I know our Lord MY ABSENT SOLDIER. 127 Througli the night's long hours of darkness Hath you in His ward ! How much I think of you, dearest ! I know that very oft My features rise before you, And then your voice grows soft ; They do not know the reason It thrills and trembles so ; 'T is the beautiftil heart-music That makes it sweet and low I God bless you ! my own darling, And keep you pure and fair ; May the calm glory of your eyes Be darkened by no care ; Your love, the dearest next to God's, — Your worth, my highest pride : Sweet angels guard your homeward path. And haste you to my side ! But if — ah, God ! the bitter thought ! — You should not come again, — 128 MY ABSENT SOLDIER. If you should lie out, cold and still, Among the battle's slain, -— I could not bear such anguish, love. For all that I could do ; I know my widowed heart would break, And I should perish too ! L. H. R. /^H, soldier-heart! Oh, knightly soul ! ^^^ Thine is the noblest skill of all, — That keepeth strength, and blood, and brain, Responsive at thy country's call ! No thought of risk, no mean distrust. Doth mar the splendor of thy life ! Unbound by any party creed. Full-powered, thou goest to the strife. Why, let them strain, the paltering crew ! Who toil for gain, and not for Right ; True heart ! true hand ! thy deeds proclaim The man who makes the noblest fight ! MY STORY. February 14, 1864. "DRAVE, generous soul ! I grasp the hand -'-^ Which mstinct teaches me is true ; This were indeed a royal world, If all were hke to you ! You know my story. In my youth The hand of God fell heavily Upon me, -^ and I knew my life" From thence must silent be. I think my will w^as broken then, — The proud, high spirit, tamed by pain ; And so the griefs of later days Cannot distract my brain. MY STORY. 131 But my poor life, so silence-bound, Reached blindly out its helpless hands, Craving the love and tenderness Which every soul demands. I learned to read in every face The deep emotions of the heart ; For Nature to the stricken one Had given this simple art. The world of sound was not for me ; But then I sought in friendly eyes A soothing for my bitter loss. When memories would rise. And I was happy as a child. If I could read a friendly thought In the warm sunshine of a face. The which my trust had wrought. ****** ijj But then, at last, they bade me hope, They told me all might yet be well ; 132 MY STORY. Oh ! the wild war of joy and fear, I have not strength to tell ! * * * * * * * Oh, heavier fell the shadow then I And thick the darkness on my brain, When hope forever fled my heart, And left me only pain. But when we hope not we are calm, And I shall learn to bear my cross, And God, in some mysterious way. Will recompense this loss. And every throb of spirit-pain Shall help to sanctify my soul, — ' Shall set a brightness on my brow. And harmonize my whole ! By suflPering weakened, still I stand In patient waiting for the peace Which cometh on the Future's wing, — I wait for God's release ! MY STORY. 133 A nation's tears ! A nation's pains ! The record of a nation's loss ! My God ! forgive me if I groan Beneath my hghter cross ! Henceforth, thou dear, bereaved land ! I keep with thee thy vigil-night ; My prayers, my tears, are all for thee, — God and the deathless Right ! WAITING FOR VICTORY. nVT ATIONS may side with wrong ; Right shall endure ! Justice may suffer long ; Right shall endure ! Stubborn, and hot, and strong, Traitors about us throng ; This our unaltered song : Right shall endure ! What though they battle well ? Right shall endure ! This be their final knell : Riffht shall endure I Eager their lives to sell. Heroes who grandly fell . WAITING FOR VICTORY. 135 Lingered this truth to tell : Kiglit shall endure ! What though the fight be hard ? Right shall endure ! Be the day evil-starred, — Right shall endure ! Triumph, at first debarred, — Victories in dawning marred, — Fall back upon your guard ! Right shall endure ! Stars that are fixed may fall ; Right shall endure ! Daikness may cover all ; Right shall endure ! Ruin may droop its pall. This our unshaken wall ; We, fi:om behind it call : Right shall endure ! Let the world say its nay ! Right shall endure ! 136 WAITING FOR VICTORY, Let the false have its day ! Right shall endure ! Failure may block the way, — Error may bring dismay, — Fixed, through this long delay, Kight shall endure I CHARGE OF BLAIR'S BRIGADE AT VICKSBURG. "V7"E glorious few, who blenched not, look- ing Death Full in the face, with eyes of proud dis- dain, — - Who won a benediction from the land. Through such an offering of martyr pain ! Be proud, ye brave ! God writes a victory down. And no defeat ! — say traitors what they will. To you the world awards the hero's crown, To them a scorning sharp enough to kill I 138 CHARGE OF BLAIR'S BRIGADE. Oh, souls sublime from wrestling with the wrong ! I, a weak woman, scarcely dare to raise My voice, through tears, to swell this burst of praise. But that enthusiasm makes me strong ! '.wmK®M LOST IN THE WILDERNESS. [The Battles of the Wilderness.] Y love ! my only love I lyf-^ Where lies tliy head to-night ? Oh, 't is weary waiting for break of day, And for tidings of the fight ! Somewhere m a crowded camp, Or, mayhap, on a ghastly field, Is lying one whom my jealous heart, To death will never yield. My love ! my only love ! But the rivers roll between, And the land, it stretcheth for weary miles, In summer beauty green ! 10 140 LOST IN THE WILDERNESS. My love ! my only love ! But the night is long and lone, And my heart goes out, through the dreary dark, With a sore, unsoothed moan ! My love ! my only love ! But my arms are vacant yet, And the cheeks that are fading, because un- kissed. With passionate tears are wet ! My love ! my only love ! My life is a wearing pain, And its fulness of unshed tenderness Maketh it ache again ! My love ! my only love ! I will arise and go ; To find thee is all that is left to me. If thy glory lieth low. * * * * * * 5K Alas ! and she could not know. That the grass was springing green, LOST IN THE WILDERNESS. 141 And the rank weeds hiding a something where A knightly soul had been. Alas, for the faithful heart ! Alas, for its yearning pain ! He hath laid him down in the Wilderness, Never to rise again ! BUTLER'S BLACK BRIGADE. O tliey will not fight ! those branded men, Whose crime is a dusky skin ; They are dark without, so 't is fair to think The blood must be pale within ! They will not fight ? You have crushed them long, They 've forgotten the way to turn ! They have brains, and yet they remember not ; And hearts, but they never burn ! So, they will not fight ? You remember how They cowered in last July ? * * The New York riots, July, 1863. BUTLER'S BLACK BRIGADE. 143 They had done no wrong, but then: skins were black, 'T was fitting that they should die ! TJiey did not fight, but they stand to-day, As stanchly as fairer men ; Tliey are helping you on to your triumph now. Who were hunted and tortured then ! Oh, ye will not take in a kindly clasp. The hand that is darker than yours ! And ye will not walk in a plainer light, Nor bury these ancient scores ! Oh, shame for your senseless and narrow creed ! And shame for your savage hate ! And shame for the dulness that does not know, Like ever will seek its mate ! " Free," not " equal," for Mind must rule. And Mind must decide the caste ; And the largest brain, though the lowest down, 144 BUTLERS BLACK BRIGADE. Must go highest up, at the last. What is it ye fear, if Mind must rule, And the earth is so very wide ? Oh, shame for your shortness of mental sight ! And shame for your shallow pride ! So they will not fight ? But the grim old man* Will tell you another tale, — Fort Pillow 's their St. Bartholomew ! Sepoys of the South, grow pale ! Perhaps, when they hallow this common cause With their thousands of nameless graves, Your selfish hearts will proclaim at last, They are men, and they are not slaves I * Butler. TO A. E. (in prison at RICHMOND.) rriHERE is a spirit in that small, slight frame, Which long captivity could never cow ; And the eye, pent beneath that hanging brow, Would never blench before the bar^d steel. Prisoner of Richmond ! As thou standest now I see the prison-blight upon thy face ! How didst thou suffer, in those long, dull days. And harder yet, those terrible, still nights ! No word from home ! No wifely fond em- brace ! * Long years of peace can never do away The memory of those pangs that turned the spirit gray ! * In one of the entries in his journal he says, " If I could only hear from my wife ! " KENTUCKY'S CRITTENDEN IN 1861. "E lias given all ! His heart, Ms soul, Ms strength, Ms manhood's prime ; Be very, very gentle with him, Time, And let our prayers thy stern demands fore- stall. He has given all ! Oh, ripening head, God's harvest is anear ; Oh, gentle eyes ! so ready with a tear, At suffering's plaintive call. He has given all ! Not vainly, — like some blessed household word, KENTUCKY'S CRITTENDEN. 147 Whose dropping quivereth on some tender chord, His name shall ever fall ! IN 1863. He is at rest ! 'T was like a lying down to peaceful dreams, Lulled by the murmuring of summer streams, To be awakened by the morrow's dreams. « He is at rest ! All noisy sorrow were unfitting now ; We drop no tears above this marble brow. And to this late bereavement humbly bow. He is at rest ! With reverent hands we bear him o'er the sod. Where lately oft his trembling footsteps trod, And leave him in this quiet with his God. THE QUIET MAN. (GRANT.) FTIHERE was no feasting when lie marched away, No patriotic speeches ; His calm belief in Right had placed him where No egotism reaches. He was above them all, — that motley crowd, Enthusiasts and pretenders. Who make long speeches, and who love to call Themselves the land's defenders I Then he went gravely, earnestly to work. And lo, a great sensation ! THE QUIET MAN. 149 For soon they found he was the only man, With skill to serve the nation. And so they said, " Among the men who aspire To office let us rank you ; " But he was neither fool nor knave, and said, Decidedly, " No, thank you." At last they gave up trying to make him talk, And cheered for him immensely ; But he held quiet, and was not satisfied, Unless he worked intensely, " One still, strong man ! " We 've waited long for him ; He lives by acts, not speeches. Legion of talkers ! do you heed the truth His Hfe-endeavor teaches ? H. T. B. >E strong of heart, my genial, generous friend! And falter not before this league of crime : I hear the angel of the Coming Time Cry to the nations, " This is not the end ! " I trace the patriot's self-forgetting thought Upon a forehead where unselfish care And noble toiling leave the marks of wear ; And generous feeling — pained or over- wrought. But yet be strong ! It shall not be in vain — This wrestling through the darkest hour of fate. For we shall go through Triumph's lifted gate To find our solace for this night of pain ! THE LAST POEM. brave and gentle hero-soul ! O spirit tender, tried, and true ! How could I close my record here, Without one little word for vou ? Whose stronger arm has held me up-, Whose stronger heart has strengthened mme. Whose eye was always first to see The meaning of God's deep design ! Whose deeds were noble, first and last, As tale of ancient chivalry ; Whose sweet, exceeding faithfulness, Made life so beautiful for me ! 152 THE LAST POEM. Whose teachings filled my spirit with This strong, unfaltering belief, That God's good hand will save the right, Through failure and bewildering grief. Ah ! no caressing hand is laid In commendation on my head^ My soul, dividing time and space, Is leaning toward yours instead ! I cannot think it vainly yearns _To reach you, though bereaved I stand ; Though it is bitter pain to miss The touch of your protecting hand^ Not lost, but absent ! Will you take These first-fruits of a younger soul ? You know how long ago God gave Its throbbings into your control. THE END. <. A' r * ' < -^ ^ - ' ■*•' . ■. :"*"•< ■^..■-. / ^ -v. o': -^'^^ '■'V:' »■•. ■ -^ . .y^-^'t-^m^'^' ■•■ >; ' ■ ;"^.it^w^K,._.-v,v '^y-c ':.;::, ■■■^'^m-^::':^< r> ■>■ . v^ v' ';;E:M^P^ ■'H .' - :'. -i'v- :,.-,--^^-r^-:'V.,\::-V *A-' ^>/^^ ■:'•■'.■ .^:^i»':"., ;■.;'■ ^'^ _i^l^^^' i^yy(^.-ki- '^y^ y ^■-'^ .'' ■■■-■ ;ff '.« :n' , X ' ' . 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