m 
 
 
 TWO POEMS, 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 ON THE OCCASION OF THE BIRTHDAYS 
 
 OP 
 
 II. H. DeLUCE AND FRANK W. WELLINGTON, 
 
 OF THE TWENTY-FIFTH REGIMENT. 
 
 NOW DETAILED IN THE 
 
 Commissary Department, at Newbern, N. C. 
 
 BY CHARLES MEND ALL, 
 
 TWENTY-THIRD MASSACHUSETTS REGIMENT. 
 
 WORCESTER: 
 PRINTED BY EDWARD R. FISKE, 
 
 1864. 
 
 ■ 
 
STEPHEN Bo WEEKS 
 
 CUSS OF 1886; PH.D. THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 E WEEKS OTULEOTON 
 
 ©F 
 
 ^f "370 iri,*0i -*rr\ $$ 
 
TWO POEMS, 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 ON THE OCCASION OF THE BIRTHDAYS 
 
 OF 
 
 t H. DeLUCE AND FRANK W. WELLINGTON, 
 
 OF THE TWENTY-FIFTH REGIMENT. 
 
 NOW DETAILED IN THE 
 
 Commissary Department, at Newbern, N. C. 
 
 BY CHARLES MEKDALL, 
 
 TWENTY-THIRD MASSACHUSETTS REGIMENT. 
 
 WORCESTER: 
 PRINTED BY EDWARD R.'PISKE, 
 
 1864. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2013 
 
 http://archive.org/details/twopoemswrittenoOOmend 
 
BIRTHDAY POEM. 
 
 I was sitting alone in my charming boudoir, 
 Thinking of the days of two years or more ; 
 Thinking of the time when my courage was true, 
 And my soul burned with love for the red, white and 
 blue. 
 
 And, as I sat thinking of the days that are gone, 
 
 A spirit arose, and with majestic form 
 
 It came to my chair, and thus said to me, 
 
 " Take thy pen and write what I say unto thee. 
 
 " For in this still town to-night there will be 
 A soldier's glorious anniversary. 
 And I know by their hearts, they will not refuse 
 To give ear to a few lines from the poet's muse." 
 
 In vain was all pleading — its will was law, 
 And I had to obey, or its anger incur. 
 Without any excuses or waste of your time, 
 I will tell what it told me, in doggerel rhyme. 
 
 It is two years ago, this very same day, 
 That in the proud State the nations call " Bay," 
 A band of true heroes, all fearless and bold, 
 Left their homes for their country, which traitors had 
 sold. 
 
They came from old Ipswich, from Newburyport; 
 There were men of all trades, of every sort. 
 There were sailors and painters of different schools ; 
 There were great men, wise men, and some we called 
 fools. 
 
 They were headed by " Hobbs," the bravo and the 
 
 great, 
 Who is known as a hero all over the State. 
 To the plains of old Lynnfield, in gorgeous array, 
 The3 T marched in their glory, that fine autumn day. 
 
 But let us pass over the time they had then, 
 With the hope they shall never live there again, 
 And look at the time when their courage was tried, 
 In which soma have escaped, and some of them died. 
 
 They have been under fire — have conquered their foes, 
 Have marched miles upon miles, with sore limbs and 
 
 toes, 
 In cold, heat and rain, in wind, clouds and sun, 
 But never have they from the rebel hosts run. 
 
 But 'tis not of the band I this night shall sins:, 
 But one of its number they to "Newbern" did bring; 
 So we'll leave them to-night, as they're on the waves, 
 With three times three cheers for the bold Ipswich 
 braves. 
 
 We have met here to-night, and I trust all are sober, 
 To remember with joy the sixteenth of October, 
 When out friend over there, wjth feelings not damp, 
 Shook his friends by the hand and went into camp. 
 
 If he had not done so, to-night we would be 
 In some other place, and not mingling in glee 
 In this, pleasant room^and at tjiis pleasant board, 
 Enjoying the pleasures that life does afford. 
 
For who can deny it, that to him is due 
 All honor and praise for this glorious stew, 
 And the splendid repast he before us has spread, 
 Which has caused us to say we will bet on his head. 
 
 For a year and some months he has been a C. C, 
 And has oft caused a laugh with his jokes and his glee; 
 And the songs he has sung will ne'er be forgot 
 By the clerks who have worked in the Commissaire 
 Depot. 
 
 We shall each remember how true he has been 
 To his wife, to his country, and to all men; 
 To the pleasures of life, and his love for the gay, 
 We can all give our word, but we need not to-day. 
 
 He is worthy our friendship, our love and esteem, 
 He will prove in the future, w T hat in past we have seen. 
 He will give unto each the help they may need, 
 And will prove, as he has done, n good boy indeed. 
 
 If I wish him success through the journey of life — 
 If I wish him a safe return to his wife — 
 If I wish him the freedom he longs to obtain, 
 I know you will, with me, wish him the same. 
 
 But others there are who are worthy a line, 
 And to give all their praise would the power were mine; 
 But I fail in my flesh, though the spirit is strong, 
 So I'll mention their names, and thus end my song. 
 
 First in line is De Luce. What pen can portray 
 The kindness of heart, and the fun that doth lay 
 In the breast of our friend ? Not mine 1 confess, 
 Let us love him and wish him joy, nevertheless. 
 
 Twentj'-four years ago, this very moon, 
 In glorious South Boston, Reuben was born ; 
 Twenty-four years he has lived on the earth, 
 Through sorrow and joy, through sadness and mirth. 
 
Let us wish him the joy that pleasure knows — 
 Let us wish him the love that friendship bestows ; 
 Let us wish him success through the journey of life, 
 Let us wish him true friends, a home and a wife. 
 
 From the Keystone State we have our friend Grier. 
 And when fun is around, he will say, " I am here ;" 
 May his pathway in life be as smooth as his face, 
 And his memory as sweet as the blessings of grace. 
 
 But what shall I say, more than pleasure and fun 
 Is still to be found with Frank Wellington ; 
 O'er his bright, smiling lace may no clouds ever rise 
 To sadden its smiles or change them to sighs. 
 
 And him who is from us we must not forget, 
 For though absent in body, he is one of us }'et; 
 Though we wish him home joys, we trust he'll come 
 
 sooner; 
 
 Then let us cheer hearty for " How are you, Spooner." 
 
 Munson, Penniman, Symonds and M, 
 Is there another lot of such men ? 
 Can there be found on the land or the seas 
 'Such a jolly good crowd as the gay C. C.'s ? 
 
 And last, but not least, one more I must name, 
 May we name him with pleasure — never with pain ; 
 True to us ever, give him praise and renown, 
 May he ever be with us — William O. Brown. 
 
 In the struggle through life, let each man be true ; 
 Let each show to the world what brave men can do ; 
 In duty e'er faithful, in joy ever free, 
 Live for our country, the land of the free. 
 
 The spirit receded and passed from my view, 
 Telling me to bid you, with these words, adieu ; 
 Long life and success, joy, pleasure and fun, 
 To Jieuben, .Rob. Grier, and Frank Wellington. 
 
 Newbern, N. C, Oct, 1863. Keokuk. 
 
ANNIVERSARY POEM. 
 
 It had been a very pleasant day in Xewbern. The sun had 
 sunk to rest, and evening's quiet calm was upon the ancient town, 
 and all seemed hushed to peace. No sound was heard but of the 
 sentinels, as they paced their weary beat, on the corner of the 
 streets, or hailed, in tones of thunder, some lonely bummer, with, 
 "Who comes there !" The call was answered, and the echo of 
 the tread of feet died away, and then all was still at the office of 
 the Post Commissary. In the front room of a house on the corner 
 of South Front and Craven streets, a band of heroes were assem- 
 bled, — heroes who had left their wives and sweethearts, and had 
 sailed hundreds of miles to fight for their country, and then be 
 detailed as clerks in the Commissary Department. The shiny 
 boots, the paper collars, the neatly brushed clothes, and the per- 
 fume therefrom, showed plainly they had donned their best. The 
 social converse, the loud, ringing laugh, and the smiling face told 
 plainer than words, they were having a good time. The fire in 
 the grate burned brightly, and the chandelier shone in the glory of 
 gas light. The supper had been eaten, glasses of lemonade had 
 been drained of their contents, jokes were sent and taken, and 
 each had tried their power at a speech, when one of their number, 
 Keokuk by name, rose and thus addressed them ; 
 
 • Ye call me a poet, and ye do me wrong, 
 If ye did but know it, I can't write a song. 
 You invited me here, I know for what, 
 'Twas to read some verses you thought I had got. 
 Because once on a time I wrote you a poem, 
 Am I made up of rhyme, and must I keep blowing ? 
 Is there no way for me your teazings to shun, 
 Must I write poetry on every occasion ? 
 You think I can do it ; else why do you ask ? 
 
8 
 
 If you did but know it, 'tis no easy task 
 
 For a mortal like me, with small share of brains, 
 
 To write in poetry on all of your names, 
 
 And on such times as this, when you all feel well, 
 
 And in case I should miss you, would send me to — dwell 
 
 Among the "black nagurs " that live in our town, 
 
 Or else with the beggars that live farther down 
 
 In the fair land of Cotton, of Rice, and " all sich," 
 
 Who, if I've not forgotten, have dug a " last ditch," 
 
 In which they are to die, according to plan, 
 
 Unless they annihilate our good Uncle Sam. 
 
 'Tis for fear of your law, I come here to-night] 
 
 Pray do not abhor what I shall indite, 
 
 But deal with me gently, nor patience deny, 
 
 I'll tell you presently, the wherefore and why 
 
 Of the subject and song I have chosen to-night, 
 
 I'll not be very long, and hope I'll be right. 
 
 I came from my dinner a few days ago, 
 
 And went to- my office, the place you all know, 
 
 I removed my cap, then hung up my coat, 
 
 Sat down to my table and there found a note. 
 
 'Twas a friendly invite from Pierce and Spooner, 
 
 To come, Friday night, to " Our House " on the corner ; 
 
 And for fear I should go with nothing to say, 
 
 They took pains I should know 'twas some one's birthday. 
 
 I must surely be there, without any evasion, 
 
 And it would be but fair, on this occasion, 
 
 To write a few lines to add to the fun 
 
 Of the glorious birthday of Frank Wellington. 
 
 You all see I am here, and thus far 'tis well, 
 
 And with trembling and fear, I my verses will tell. 
 
 But first let me mention what ought to have been sooner, 
 
 The kindness and friendship of Pierce and Spooner, 
 
 Who have opened " Our House" in glorious style, 
 
 And caused us in pleasure to spend a short while. 
 
 Let us give them our thanks, wish and hope that they 
 
 May live to enjoy it for many a day. 
 
 May friends be around them, may good fortune smile, 
 
 May no grief confound them, may no foes beguile ; 
 
 May joy, hope, and pleasure, their memory arouse, 
 
As they think of the evening they opened " Our House." 
 
 Full twenty years ago, and now just one more, 
 
 As I can plainly show, inside a man's door 
 
 A stranger did enter and asked for a home 7 
 
 They gave him the centre of their fireside room. 
 
 He had no desire from them to stray, 
 
 And by their snug fire lived many a day. 
 
 On him they bestowed their friendship and love, 
 
 And trusted that he ne'er from them would rove* 
 
 For they reasoned this way, — if we care for him now r 
 
 And teach him the way in life he should go r 
 
 And fortune does favor him, and success attend, 
 
 And kind friends will love him, and help to defend 
 
 Him from the ills of life, when he grows to manhood 
 
 And takes him a wife, and we are in childhood 
 
 That will come to us all, if we live to be old, 
 
 Then on him we can call, with true heart3 and bold, 
 
 And ask him for the care, the friendship and love, 
 
 And a home for the pair, till we go home above. 
 
 And they called him their son, and gave him a name, 
 
 'Twas F. W. Wellington, a name of great fame. 
 
 He was but a babe then, he grew to a child, 
 
 From childhood to youth, whose life is so mild ; 
 
 True to those dear ones who guided his way, 
 
 And true to the friends around him to-day. 
 
 But the call of his country was louder than love, 
 
 And he left his dear home in strange lands to rove. 
 
 O'er land and o'er sea, he marched and he sailed, 
 
 He fought for his country, and then got detailed. 
 
 'Tis with feelings of joy we gaze on him now, 
 
 As we think of the boy of a short time ago, 
 
 Who has grown from the babe, the child and the boy, 
 
 And now sets them aside as he once did a toy, 
 
 And feels in his heart he has broken the ban, 
 
 Has lived to his freedom, and now is a man. 
 
 As we loved the boy, so we'll love the man, 
 
 And help him to enjoy all life that he can. 
 
 Should trouble befall him, should dark clouds arise, 
 
 Should grief ever call him in tears and in sighs, 
 
 We will prove to him then what true men can do, 
 
10 
 
 As men prove to men how their love is true. 
 
 Should fortune smile on him, as we hope and trust, 
 
 And soon in life's morning he gains his pile of dust, 
 
 And wins lasting fame and all honor beside, 
 
 And bestows a proud name on his chosen bride r 
 
 He will find in our hearts no change or decay 
 
 Of the love for the man we welcome to-day. 
 
 For his kindness to-night all honor is due, 
 
 And we all will unite in thanks heartfelt and true, 
 
 And trust he'll remember each one by name, 
 
 On the 13th of November, when it comes again. 
 
 Keokuk. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00032734462 
 
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