iwowwiiix w * ww m n wt-mww T tw aK(a^:)^^^ oxyya-isay^vtiBt LIBRARY OP CONGRESS. ®|itpX5-^6tp5rig^ !f u* Slielf..WS-l^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/wakefieldstandleOOwhit \ U/al^efield 3ta9dley. • • • • • /^ story of tf^e pla(J. V o> >-j»- Carroll Record, Carrollton, Mo T^ P 31 D ^» COPYRIGHTED. All Rights Reserved, THIS STORY OF A SOLDIER DEDICATED TO The Grand Army of the Republic THOSE WHO ARE YET WITH US, AND THOSE Wro Fell Beneath the Shadow cf the Old Flag. CARROLLTON, MO., i883. " However disagreeable it may be to review the trou- bles of our country, every patriot will look upon it as his duty not to let them pass without notice. "The period of misfortune is the most fruitful source of instruction. By investigating the causes of National commotions, by tracing their progress, and by carefully marking the means through which they are brought to a conclusion, well established principles may be deduced for preserving the future tranquility of the commonwealth." — Minof s Hist. Insurrections in Mass. *' When a people, has engaged with passionate earnest- ness in a great movement, in behalf of a great cause, no mistakes, no disasters, no remorse, no reaction, however natural and mighty it may be, can efface from its heart, the remembrance of its first days of strength and hope." — Trans. Guizot. I heard an an^^el speak last night lie said to me — " Write ! What I tell thee : " Write the scorn of honest men for wrong, Write it plain, and clear, and strong, And write on iron or brass, That all may read who pass. Honor is not a dream ; True men are what they seem : A glorious deed survives, The span of human lives ; And lives the world's ages through ; When the war is a tale of old, And this man's story is told, iMen shall hear what man may do !" CARROLLTON, MO.. 1888. U/al^efield 5ta9dley. f^ story of tf^e y\a(§. rn(3THER DE:AR," said my boy to me / I As he sat in his chair, beside my knee, " I wish you would tell me about the war. Who fought battles ? And what for ? What made it ? When the roses blow Why do the men and women go With heads bent down, and footsteps slow Out to the graveyard, where lie low The soldiers ? T have heard the drum. It seems to say, ' Come ! come ! come !' And why am I named for Uncle Wake Who had no boy of his own, to take His queer odd name, and carry it on ; Why wasn't I named James or John .^" 12 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. I looked in his honest, earnest eyes, Full of innocent, sweet surprise, And I thought of that time, when God in wrath From the grapes of life pressed the must of deaths When men in pain, by winnowers twain Were flailed and threshed, like chaff from grain And racked and tortured, body and brain ; Condemned for years to ceaseless pain ; To long for rest, yet long in vain — Because of Man's selfish greed for gain, When over our land from sea to sea There was sorrow and mourning and misery, Hearts aching with breaking for dear ones slain Hearts breaking with aching for dear ones' pain, Pain, that no loving hands could stay, Through the cruel war, that day by day Saddened our hearts with scenes of woe As we saw the soldiers come, and go. Whenever I think of my girlhood's years» I see through mists of tears and fears, Again the marching soldiers come, With floating flag, and beating drum ; I hear again their bugle blow ; I see the horsemen riding slow. With heads bowed down ; I see them go A STORY or Till' 11. Ac;. Out of tlie town — beyond the hill The hoof-beats echo ; all is still ; J^ack to its home, each sad heart goes, The war goes on. its tale of woes Grows longer, heavier day by da}-, The world swings on, it does not stay ; Strong in our veins life's currents play Meeting and parting every day. Sometimes on household errands bent, Or with but half-defined intent, I go on the road-way leading down Across the bridge, up into town, I look far down its busiest street To where the sky and river meet, A ragged fringe of cotton wood Hangs over red ^Missouri's flood. And thought goes shivering back, to see What dread that river holds for me ; The skies are fair, no clouds are seen, The sunlight rests on far Saline, I turn away, with saddened heart My heart beats fast, the tear drops start. 13 Along that old, familiar street An old time friend, I often greet 14 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. Who wears his manhood hale and green, Though many a year has slipt between Him, and those days of long ago. I've seen his boys to manhood grow, Yet in those now forgotten years, He converse held, of hopes, of fears. How best to plan, what steps to take. He loved and trusted Uncle Wake. Now one is gone ; the other stays And shows that through life's devious ways A man may walk, that all men can Trust to his mind to think and plan. And say wherein his life they scan, " Here is a true, an honest man." Sometimes along the shady street I hear a sound, a rhythmic beat. Then comes a tall, a manly form That like the oak might breast the storm. And from his shoulders borne by rule One sees the sign, the soldier's school ; The wooden crutch that aids his way Tells of those years, long passed awa}^ And swift as sparkling waters run Now gay, now sad, in shade, in sun ; I heard a son of Hermes tell A STORY OF THE FLAG. Of the brave men who fought and fell At Lookout, Dalton, Mission Ridge And how Missourians kept a bridge Way down in Georgia ; hand to hand ; Then, like the Roman, swam to land. On sunny days, in town, I see One like a knight of chivalry ; No braver heart in castle hall, His name his friends wath honor call ; Yet when I see his empty sleeve It makes even me, a stranger grieve. And one dwells there, whose voice and pen Speaks for the right and fellow-men, The record of his life is clean A kindlier man is seldom seen ; And making protest 'gainst the wrong With manly utterance, clear and strong, A modern Sampson, yet unshorn Sends forth the arrovvs of his scorn Like fire-brands through the Philistine's corn, Another's there, whose foes must say He seeks to walk in honor's way, And none can say, " the gold have I That can his heart and conscience buy" — All these were soldiers, each did take WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. His life in hand, like Uncle Wake. Each one like him, were " boys in blue," Each helped to win our victory, too. Far from his German Fatherland Is one who calls our land his land, The weight of years rests on his head, Yet in that time now long since fled He lent his strength our state to hold 'Gainst rude attack of foemen bold — And I remember one, who dwelt Among us long. He too, had felt In his brave breast the battle scars ; Though alien born, our country's wars Found him a soldier brave and true ; With pride he wore our loyal blue ; I saw the long procession go, With muffled drums, and marching slow, Out to St. Mary's, where in trust They gave to earth the hero's dust, A soldier-statesman ; yet no stone Tells of the name and fame he won. In many a grass-grown grave to-day Sleep those who gave their lives away A willing sacrifice— that we A STORY Ol' THE FLAG. \J Should hold our state in liberty ; l)ut careless of her great renown And heedless of her glory's crown, The men who for her freedom died She names not on her rolls of pride, And men forget that honor true Is theirs of right who w^ore our blue. Thought wanders back, and seeks to trace The loves, the hopes, that gave life grace In those sad years. The sunshine sifts Through leafy boughs in radiant drifts, And locust trees around the square With fragrance fill the sunny air ; Industrious bees are hovering there In bud and blossom sweet and fair, As in those days " before the war," When neighbors gathered near and far. Under their shade each summer morn To ask each other's chance for corn ; To tell how California claimed This son or that whom Carroll named. Along the street men pass to-day ' Who saw our brave boys ride away ; Yet who, of all, along the street Remember now, once they did greet l8 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. As friend, a soldier, tried and true, First among those who wore our blue? His country called, he heard the word And beat his plowshare to a sword. Yet half forgot, this many a year, Save but by one who held him dear. Only a little time ago And her sad heart was wont to go. Encircled by a mystic band She in that place of graves would stand. Deep in her luminous eyes the glow, The visions fair of long ago, The sunlight streaming through the leaves Of trunks and branches — brown like sheaves Of ripened wheat — in fragrant flood ; The year's completeness fruit and bud / Hung like a crown above his grave. Her dead — nor God himself could save ! She saw the stream that flowed between Dark vistas in the leafage green ; And smoke wreaths rise where straw-fires burned It was a merry world that turned Its face up to the sun. Spring's busy hums Beat in her ears like martial drums ; The orioles flashed among the trees. A STORY OK TIIK FLAG. 1 9 And swarms of yellow-banded bees Intent upon their fragrant spoil, The sweet reward of morning toil, Hummed iii the cherry orchard near ; All the broad sky was blue, and clear, And the fields green with growing corn ; Only her own sad heart, forlorn ! From out her soul there burst a cry Like swimmer in his agony, To know the purpose of her loss, To help her heart to bear its cross ! The ghost of that dead love would rise, And at her soul with hopeless eyes Look long. ^ ^ She felt how vain The sacrifice ! Long had he lain Forgotten ! * "^ Like a dying fire The purpose, hope, the strong desire To make of life a noble strife. To leave ere yet the close of life Upon the century's roll his name, Flashed up — a dream that ne'er came True. * "^ Gone ! like the flime ! And life's dull tide must ebb and flow. The years roll on, now swift, now slow. 20 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. Resting upon his northward wing, She heard the prophet of the spring, The blue bird, his sweet carol sing ; The black bird's whistle clear and free, The robin's song of careless glee ; And as their songs her heart would stir Those sweet lost days came back to her, When without thought of fear or harm She leaned upon her lover's arm, The world before them fair and sv/eet, Now dust and ashes at her feet — Only the record on the stone To tell the dream his heart had known, His good, true heart ! So nearly won The guerdon of a race well run, Just at the end, must faint and fall ! Was that the end ? Could this be all ? Through silent woods on grave and stone The sunlight fell with blessings down. And hallowed hush, and softened hue Wove Spring's bright promises anew, While earth, and air, with balm and flowers Sent tribute. to the hast'ning hours ; She heard soft voices stir below The half- seen creek's unceasing flow ; A STORY OF THE FLAG. 2-f She hearLl throii_L;h all the biiclLliiiL^^ trees The winds blow pleasant nieiodies ; She saw in ev^ery flower and tree The hope of life that yet should be ; The red-bud lit the distant glooms Of the deep woods ; and apple blooms, And hawthorn white with sweet perfumes, And the gray willow's feathery plumes, Filled all the air. A silent band Like sentinels, the oak trees stand To guard her soldier's silent sleep. Their solemn trust the trees would keep; And then, the tempest in her breast Was stilled. Like gentle winds, the rest, The peace, that passeth knowledge filled Her fainting heart ; her spirit thrilled With hope. Beyond the oak trees tall She saw God's sky wide over all. The trees, the graves, the lovely land — And well she knew the mighty Hand That holds of death the sacred keys, And life's unequal destinies. Could with His smile. His glowing breath, Bid life rise glorious out of death. Not in the air and earth alone Should the great mystery be shown ; 22 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. The yearly miracle of spring To man is but foreshadowing That blessed day, when angel hands Shall break in twain death's icy bands. The perfect love that casts out fear Filled her sad soul with hope and cheer ; She felt in quickened pulse and blood That though but blindly understood, And half forgot, he seemed to sleep ; The harvest he had failed to reap Would be by others garnered in ; What he had lost would others win, And far and wide through all the land Would reapers bless the sower's hand ; And like the mirage fair in air The sweet hope cheered her soul's despair. She knew that somewhere in God's world, 'Mid stars and flowers, and soft clouds curled, Where all earth gives of good and fair Blossoms in that diviner air. In circling sweep through outer dark, Somewhere, somehow, life's narrow arc Must widen into perfect day ; And Love's own hand should wipe away The tears from eyes long used to weep. A STORY OF THE FLAG. 23 Nor lonely soul sad v'igil keep. From care and sorrow swift released, At Heaven's own blessed marriage feast, Dear eyes should never lose their shine And Christ would once more make the wine ! Now she is gone — beneath the trees She sleeps — the pale anemones And sweet wild roses o'er her head Their blossomed fragrance sweet will shed ; And who shall keep alive the fire Of that dear dream, her heart's desire ? Sometimes on holy afternoons I walk among the grassy dunes ; I watch the sunbeams on the grass, The flitting shadows wave and pass Above the heads now h'ino- low With perfect peace on lip and brow. "Sleep well, sleep soundly" — then I say — '"Tis well ye are not here to-day ; Your sleep is dreamless, ye departed, Not all in life are restful-hearted." I think of those long gone to dust, Of him whose faith taught us to trust ; A man of God — he walked serene 24 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. Through this world's storms. 'Mid foes unclean He held his way in those dark years, With courage midst men's doubts and fears. I think of her, whose steadfast truth Long mourned the husband of her youth ; She felt the battle's thunder blaze, And sorrowing softly, all her days She walked apart life's troubled ways. No child of her's that bore the hue Of his dear face. No eyes of blue. No dimpled hands to sooth her care, But many a time on my boy's hair Her soft hands laid, her eyes in prayer Upraised. How shall I dare To lift the veil, so thin, so strong 'Twixt us and her ? 'Tis now not long Since her tired feet were crossed in rest — Her pale hands folded on her breast ; Shall I disturb that slumber blest? And still my thought goes back to him Whose sun of life at noon grew dim ; Noble and strong, and kind and true, Who proved as good men ever do. That man may safely trust in man. A S'lOKV OF Till-: ILAG. 25 Life's fii^bt well fought. Nay, iia\-, how can I wake him again to tears and fears From out the peaceful sleep of years ? My boy still sits m\' chair beside, And see — the door is opened wide ! I heard no footfall on the floor ; Was it the wind that shut the door ? And throwing coat and hat aside, Who stirs the fire, that else had died ? My boy still sits beside my chair, Who laid a hand upon his hair? Was it a breeze that stirred the air ? I know when angels visit me Though others neither hear nor see ; From Heaven's wide open lattices They speak to us on days like this, We may not kiss them back, nor know The paths by which they come and go ; Heaven's angels oft are on the wing — If our dull ears could hear them sing The music chords are one at heart Though tones and octaves range apart. We know our wonder-world is full Of secrets, rare and beautiful ; If our near-sighted eyes could heed. 26 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. If we would only learn to read Christ's book, as widespread open now As when by gliding Kedron's flow He said, in gentle accents low, '* Consider how the lilies grow." His wonder book, with leaves wind-blown, Good in all things, truths writ in stone, With Gilead's balm for man's sad hours. Its every page illumed with flowers. That toil not, neither do they spin, Yet Solomon his glory in Was not arrayed like one of these ; Consider, too, the stately trees ; And whither goes the healing breeze That brings the still, small, patient rain ; Who heard the thirsty earth complain ? Who can tell where the west wind blows ? Whence comes the treasures of the snows? The hidden secret no one knows Of man's great mystery of breath ; That greater mystery, we call d^ath ; We hear the ceaseless monotone Of the deep sea, yet all unknown To us the mystic force and power Its tides evoke, at midnight's hour ; We see its multitudinous waves A STORY OF THE FLAG. 27 Obey the winds — like bended sla\'es — Yet know not liow they curve its caves. j\nd that vast secret of the skies, When all unseen, b)' our dull eyes, Across the sky from east to west, Ne'er making haste, nor seekin^^ rest, Slow march behind the sun's white bars The great grand arm}- of the stars ; Only the eagle's eyes can trace Each star in its appointed place ; ' Tis only when the night comes down Our earth can see her starr}' crown ; And all this joy is 'round us yet As when he talked from Olivet ; A treasure-book that now as then Is richer than the books of men. So, like these secrets of the sky And earth, that all about us lie, May come some dear, long vanished face, And bending near with tender grace Some loved hand wipe our tears away And point us to the fairer day. And thrilling with a wild unrest, My heart beats strong within my breast ; I look out to the far, blue sky, 28 WAKEFIELD STANDLEV. And Faith, and Hope, and Love, ask "Why, Whence comes, where goes Life's mystery?" My boy who sits beside my chair, The sunshine falling on his hair. Will some day slip away from me Out in the wide, wide world, to see With his own eyes. Oh, if I could By bringing pebbles, bits of wood, Build a low wall along the way That he must walk ere dawns that day ; And set a lamp thereon, to light His boyish footsteps through the night ! Or, like the mother's hand who sews What time that others seek repose, And fashions covering, close and warm, To keep the baby safe from harm And snugly tuck about his head. Asleep within his cradle-bed — From bits of silk and satin fine, And velvet soft and ' broidered vine Wrought in with many a quaint design. Of brier-stitch in strange device ; The while her tender brooding eyes Keep constant watch where'er he lies. It may be I a quilt may form A STORY OF 'I" I IK FLAG. To keep ni}' boy secure from hiirni, When I lie out beneath the storm. ^9 1 know what swallows say to me When they come back from 'cross the sea ; I'hey tly up high in wind}' skies, My soul leans out to hear their cries ; Amid the oak tree's soft brown flowers They hide while fall the April showers. When the sun shines bright the swallow Calls to his mate, " Oh, follow ! follow ! " Away, away, a maze of wings, A sudden whirr of glancing rings, Up to the sky I watch them fly, '* Follow ! follow ! " I hear them cry. Some day, I know, when October turns The maples red — his frost-fire burns Through all the woods, as one who grieves Had made a pyre of fragrant leaves For the dead Summer — from the sky Far off to me a voice will cry ; Then when the swallows homeward fly That voice will say, " Oh, follow ! follow ! " Farther than flight of farthest swallow My soul will rise on outspread wings Up to the land where sunrise springs. 30 WAKEFIELD SIANDLEY. Rise like a bird that soars and sings ; Beyond the streamers that herald day I shall go, alone — my boy will stay. Oh, if I could thus shield my child By bringing back the story wild Of those dark years ! A mother's love Is strong and true as heaven above ; When far from home, and her removed, The flower she wore, the book she loved, Like hands of magic draw his heart To keep him from earth's ills apait. Deep in his heart in secret glows A fire that he, he only knows, And like the shell from ocean's shore, That sings and sings for evermore Its song of the mysterious sea. His strong heart yearns to know and see The mystery of maternity. We know that when our world began God and his angels talked with man, A chain from Heaven to earth far-reaching, To man His holiest lessons teaching ; Somewhere, somehow, this chain was broken, And this we know by many a token ; A STORY OF THE FLAG. 3 1 And when at last on Chaldea'b plain The angels spoke from Heaven again, And sang their old, their sweet refrain : "Peace, peace on earth, good will to men," And all the wondering midnight air Was lit with glory shining there. And all the stars together rang Their sweetest bells in joyful clang, Then was not Mary, young and pure. Chosen b}- God, while years endure, The link to lead from earth to heaven ? And man, his every sin forgiven, Should find in her sweet motherhood The ideal dear, of her, who should Gather his children at her knee And sing to them the mystery The shepherds heard on Bethlehem's plain : " Peace upon earth, good will to men." 4f ^ -Jf ^ -J^ I hear again the bugles blow ! I see again the soldiers go ! What was that sound ? did some one speak ? I felt a tear fall on my cheek ! " Oh, little Wake, for his dear sake. Love honor, ne'er thy truth forsake, And" ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 32 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. *' Mother, dear ! Are you asleep ? Your eyes are wet, why do you weep ? I have read three pages of history here, And ahnost four." I said, " My dear, Listen to me, and hear me tell — ' Tis time you know and know right well — What it cost to make our nation free, The price we paid for liberty. " When God made man. He made man free, The sons of God were there to see. With coals from the altar-fire of Heaven They kindled a fire in his soul. 'Twas given, Like the song in the shell of the far off sea, A longing for home, where'er he might be, The h( pe of his immortality. For this man gives his hoarded gold, Woman her jewels, wealth untold, Silver and treasure, countless store. Measure heaped up and running o'er ; Woman gives love, and man gives life, He will leave forever his home and wife, Whate'er he holds dearest on earth to be, For this wonderful, beautiful, liberty. A STOKV (^F TFIK FI.AG. " ThroLiijh all the \-ear.s. in all the lands, Since the hrst man hrst raised his hands Up to the cold, unpityin^ sk\' — To question \vhence he came and why — That fire the angels kindled burns In the heart of man, while the old world turns. Where'er a c^lorious deed is done, Whene'er a land for freedom won — Under the all beholding sun- — The slave who cowers beneath a lash Looks up. and sees the lightning" flash ; He feels the soul within him climb To heights where manhood walks sublime, And sees the light that shines upon The distant hills where Christ has gone. 33 Some day these little feet of yours, Swift racing with tl-.e flying hours, Will reach the mountain summit grand, The height whence manhood rules our land, Aiid b_\' your vote, you then must say Whether the land, be this, that way, Tt is a serious thing to be — A man, and twent\'-one. and free, And men are onlv boys grown tall, The same heart beats in great or small. 3 34 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. Man's heart should not be dull, or numb, But to his country's altar come — Each day, and consecrate anew Himself, his heart, his will, to do The greatest good to fellow-man. To make of life the best he can. Wide as humanity's wide sea Is manhood's opportunity ; Inheritor of the ages he — - Joint heir of immortality ; The heart that beats within his breast That stirs his soul with wild unrest ; Holds for him 'midst life's grief and tears, The garnered sweetness of the years, Life's treasured splendor there appears ; No storm, no tide, no earthquake shock Can move the Love, that on a rock Has laid a deep foundation sure, It shall to endless years endure. — All the fair things that round us lie. Catch their enchantment from the sky ; This vast and wondrous world of ours. Its mountain peaks, its lovely flowers. Its winds and clouds, and rain and snow, And nature's voices whispering low. A STORY OF THE FLAG. 35 Her occult forces, vague and dim To us, in our horizon's brim ; Each planet on its turning pole, P'.ach sun with stars that round it roll, Are ministers of God, and draw From Him their universal law. All are but parts of one great plan, God's greatest; noblest work is Man. And as the shell sings of the sea, Man's heart should turn, where e'er he be Back to the God, who made him free. 'Tis said the ancient Greeks were first To find that when the kernel burst From bearded grain, the snowy wheat Was good for gods and men, to eat. 'Tis said they were the first to see That man was born to liberty. But when the men in Greece began To hold as slave a fellow man, Mostly the prisoners — spoils of war — The blood-bought gain brought from af^ir, When they grew rich, and proud as well And votes of men could buy and sell. Then Liberty from Greece withdrew And o'er the Adriatic flew 3^^ WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. To where the Tiber pours its urn, — Some day those verses you may learn — Again her fires began to burn; Many and many a debt we owe Those ancient heathen, you may know When you unto a man shall grow. But not for long in pagan Rome Within mud-walls she made her home, The State grew large, and rich and great With haughtiness and pride elate; Then men who held the reins of power Saw not the dark'ning storm clouds lower, The votes of others bought and sold — The root of sin is greed for gold ; — The man who sells his vote for gain, Some transient favor to obtain, Is but a slave, in fact the same, As if he bore his master's name — Then Liberty was sore distrest, She found in all the world no rest : Beside the frugal peasant's hearth, She shared his children's household mirth, She ate their black and bitter bread, But had not where to lay her head She roamed these western prairies wild ; A STORY OF THE FLAG. 37 III wiLjwanis with God':^ forest child She converse held ; but his wild wa}- Suited her not; one dreary day, 'Twas in December, and the snow, Lay thick and white on ground below. She saw a strange sail on the sea, She wondered what the ship might be — And when the keel first felt the shock Of land, and stepped on Plymouth Rock, The men who fled across the sea Seeking to find sweet Liberty. In words of greeting to them, then : ** Welcome ! oh welcome, Englishmen." She looked across the forest wild Before her eyes the desert smiled ; The wilderness like flowers in June ; Rich fields beneath the harvest moon ; Cities, and towns afar and near, — She saw, with eyes, like prophets clear ; But on that bleak December morn The men and women all forlorn, Saw only pine-trees crowned with snow, And oh, how cold the winds did blow ! But gathered all the Pilgrim band P'rom the ship's deck upon the strand ; 38 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. To the wind's anthem loud thev sang-. Through woods, o'er sea, their voices sang, " Now to this empire of the west A glorious boon we bring ; A church without a bishop, A state without a king ! " They planted in that wintry ground The seeds, whose harvest we have found, Our blessed heritage of the free Our constitutional liberty, — That very day, that very year Began the war, so long, so drear, And fought with many a bitter tear And won with agony and fear. When down on old Virginia's shore At Appomattox Court House door In mortal pain, with famine gaunt The Cause gave up its sword to Grant. At Plymouth Rock a Landmark stands, A beacon light for other lands A signal to the ships at sea ; From far and near all men may see ; And deeply graven on the stone, A STORV OF THE FLAG. Is writ tlic name of e\'er)- one Who landed on that dreary day, From the ship }*Ia\'flo\ver far away. 39 When I was small, a child like you, I had to learn my lessons too, And oft beside m}- father's chair What time I sewed my patchwork there He with his Bible on his knee, Would close the Book, and talk to me. Of this ourcoun*:ry, great and free, And what a blessing 'twas to be Inheritors of liberty. Of this our own beloved state, Missouri, proud, and rich, and great ; Of all the states in east or west This one, our own, sure was the best — His dark eyes twinkled at his jest — '* For where in any state are found So many saints above the ground ! " Then on the map, he'd show me where Far off, amid the mountains fair Our river rises, strong and free. And seeks, but never finds the sea ; Till long past Carroll's farms and fields 40 WAKEFIELD STANDEES. High on the bluff, where justice wields The sword of state, and makes our laws, And thence our wit and wisdom draws ; There stands a town, we must revere ; 'Twas named for one to freemen dear, The patriot statesman true and free, Whose magic pen wrote fearlessly. Our patent deed to liberty : The town his monument should be. And like a proud memorial stone Tell of the fame of Jefferson. He said our town was named for one What time our land her freedom won Who signed his name in writing clear As witness on her Charter dear. They said to him, " Some others, too. Bear the same name, as that you do." " Ah, then," he answered, " if there's need, ril write it plain, that all may read — And lest injustice should be done Charles Carroll, now of CarroUton." He told me how our town was made ; " Camping one night beneath the shade Of a broad elm just east of town, A STOKV OF THE FLAG. 4I A hunter from the tree brought down With rifle shot, a fine fat coon ; He looked around beneath the moon, He saw the branch which bears his name, — Our only remnant of his fame — He saw the wild deer slake his thirst, Where through the leaves the moonbeams burst, And duck, and brant, each shy wild bird, W^ith ear alert, the hunter heard ; From Carolina's mountains far He'd followed empire's western star, Till where the broad Missouri rolled Past fertile lands — worth countless gold When brown with fields of corn in shock And grazing herds of Angus stock — And happy homes by scores should rise — He found a hunter's paradise, And made his home. To bless his name A troop of sons and daughters came ; His stalwart sons to manhood grew, Like him they loved the soil and dew ; For many a }'ear they lived alone. Then other families one by one. Came from afar and settled round ; The generous hunter gave them ground 42 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. Where first his rude log cabin stood ; — An eighty-acre tract of wood And sloping upland, steep ravine, No better site have I e'er seen — Indeed I've thought when walking there That town is like Mount Zion, fair. Here lived and died the hunter bold, And even his grave, so I am told, Is lost, the ground to strangers sold . One dark-eyed daughter, with the name Of her, who led by cloud and flame Sung Israel's song of triumph grand, A woman grown, had given her hand To one she loved. These two by deed, 'Tis so recorded — all may read — Gave land of that they held their own When the old town itself outgrown Had reached out grasping hands for more, His name we hear, at many a door, My father's thought, nor his, alone Was, if real justice had been done Our town would bear that hunter's name But such is life, and such is fame. A STORY OF THE FLAG. 43 You never knew \'ou grandsire, child, His brow serene, his eyes that smiled ; In honor held b^' fellow- men ; Child, he was one of thousands ten, He dared to do what he thought right, His dail}' walk was in God's sight. When a child I heard him preach, and say, *' Ye are not here on the earth to stay. The earth is the Lord's and its fullness, too, The ox that treadeth the corn for you Ye shall not muzzle. Six days to work, The call of duty ye must not shirk ; If ye fence his lands with parchment deeds And shut your eyes to the poor man's needs, The measure ye mete to other men In turn shall be measured to you again ; And He who bore on CaK^ary's tree The whole world's sins, to you and me Spake thtis : ' That thing to others do That )'e would have others do to you.' God made the world. He holds in fee, But tenants at his will are ye ; See that no cloud or flaw appear 44 WAKEFIELD STANDLEY. And keep your chain of title clear To unnunabered years of remainder — men, Then shall ye live in honor, when Your mortal flesh and sense decay, And ye from the earth are passed away. For honor is dearer, to have and hold Than all the silver, yea, and gold The earth in her bosom hides to-day ; It will live when the earth is old and gray, When the sky like a flaming scroll is rolled And the leaves of the judgment book unfold. " Ye have no continuing city here, Pilgrims and strangers all appear, And journeying to those distant lands The house of God not made with hands, Heirs of His promises are ye ; Joint heirs of immortality. Examine well your patent deeds, See whence your chain of title leads ; Lest through some long forgotten sin Ye fail at last to enter in. With garments spotless, white as snow, Washed in that fountain's crimson flow Drawn from Immanuel's bleeding veins. Your souls made pure and clear from stains, A STORY OF THK FLAG. Stron<^ in the Lcircl, in power of might Ye ma\- jnit on llis armor bri^"ht. We wrestle not with tlesii and blood, lUit wickedness that lil