CORRECTIONS. 
 
 Page 
 
 12. 
 
 Page 
 
 04. 
 
 Page 
 
 05. 
 
 Page 
 
 73. 
 
 Page 
 
 93. 
 
 Page 
 
 102. 
 
 Page 
 
 18(). 
 
 Page 
 
 20!) 
 
 Fourth line from top, put "and" after iive". 
 Fifth line from bottom, put "of" for "or". 
 Fifth line from bottom, put "How" for "Now". 
 Twelfth line from bottom, take one "how" out. 
 Twelfth line from top, put "a" after "life's". 
 Sixteenth line from bottom, put "is" for "in". 
 Fourth line from top, put "warmed" for "warned' 
 Thirteenth line from top, put "sight" for "light". 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSre 
 
WAR VLR5L AND 
 OTHLR VLR5L 
 
 "^^^A 
 
 P. C. HAYL5 
 
 JOLILT, ILLINOIS 
 

 c\\^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1914 
 
 By 
 
 P. C. HAYES 
 
 ^f^ 56 19/4 
 
 i- 
 
 'C!,A379712 
 
WAR VLR5E. 
 
 ^ 
 
 WRITE OUT THE FULL RECORD. 
 
 [The question has often been asked, "Why have we never yet had a 
 full and complete history of our great Civil War?" But such a question 
 can receive only this answer : "It is utterly impossible to write a full and 
 complete history either of our Civil War or of any other war." To fur- 
 nish such a history of our Civil War we must have the full and complete 
 experiences of every soldier and sailor who served in that war either for 
 or against the Union, of every person who was connected with that War 
 in any capacity whatever, of every man, woman or child who had a rela- 
 tive, friend or acquaintance serving in that War, and of every human being 
 who was in any manner affected by that War. To secure a record 
 of such experiences is an absolute impossibility, and hence we shall never 
 have a full and complete history of our Civil War. These facts were be- 
 ing considered when the following was written:] 
 
 Write out the full record ! Let no one be missed 
 Of all the proud names on our Civil-War list ; 
 Two millions and more went forth to the fight 
 And were ready to die for the Union and Right. 
 Remember them all, pass none of them by 
 From the humblest of private to officer high, 
 For as each did his duty both bravely and well, 
 So each has a story that's worthy to tell. 
 
 Write out the full record ! Paint specially bright 
 
 The names of those heroes who've passed from our sight; 
 
 The hundreds, the thousands, the million and more, 
 
 Who are safe in the camp on Eternity's shore. 
 
 The list is a long one — their names who can tell 
 
 Save the few who had known them and marked where they fell. 
 
 Yet their deeds are immortal, their fame will but grow 
 
 The brighter and brighter as years come and go. 
 
 Write out the full record ! The father, the son. 
 
 The husband, the lover, each name one by one ; 
 
 Recount their long marches by day and by night, 
 
 And the courage they showed in the thick of the fight. 
 
 'Twill be a sad story, and many who hear, 
 
 Or read it, will sigh and perhaps drop a tear, 
 
 But 'twill come to each heart as a grand inspiration 
 
 To do and to dare for the Flag and the Nation. 
 
WAR VERSE 
 
 Write out the full record! All names should be there, 
 
 The feeble, the aged, the young and the fair, 
 
 Those fallen in battle in youth's early time. 
 
 And the older who fell in their manhood's full prime. 
 
 Some sleep their last sleep in their graves all unknown, 
 
 Some sleep near their friends under marble or stone. 
 
 But all sleep as heroes profoundly and deep, 
 
 While their ashes make holy the ground where they sleep. 
 
 Write out the full record! Our heroes have writ 
 
 A record in blood — many died writing it. 
 
 It is covered with glory which lights every page 
 
 And makes it enduring through age after age. 
 
 No centuries passing, no eons of time 
 
 Can dim its bright luster — its glory sublime. 
 
 But as men come to know and more value the right 
 
 It will gather fresh luster, increasingly bright. 
 
 Write out the full record! Not half has been told 
 
 Of our Civil-War heroes, the brave and the bold ; 
 
 Our history tells of a portion who fought, 
 
 Our poets praise highly some deeds that were wrought. 
 
 Our orators dwell in most eloquent strain 
 
 On some gallant deeds both on land and on main. 
 
 Yet these all recount but a part of the story. 
 
 How courage won victory, honor and glory. 
 
 Write out the full record ! Give each man his due ; 
 Tell of parting from loved ones and friends that were true. 
 Of the camp with its discipline rigid, the drill, 
 And the duties imposed which were hard to fulfill. 
 Of life at the front — marching, picket and guard — 
 With the mud ankle deep and the rain falling hard, 
 Of the bivouac at night on the cold, frozen ground 
 With the sky frowning dark and the winds howling round. 
 
 Write out the full record ! Tell all that was done 
 By which the great fight for the Union was won ; 
 Tell of skirmish, of charge, of battle, of shout 
 When the victory was won and the foe put to rout, 
 Of the terrible wound v,^ith the pain and the fear, 
 Of the hospital sickness with no loved one near, 
 Of the prisons of hell with their pestilent breath 
 Driving hope from the heart mid starvation and death. 
 But telling of these, and of each valiant deed, 
 The story would take half a life-time to read. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 
 
 Write out the full record ! Name proudly the true 
 Who did duty at home all war's bloody years through — 
 The father, the mother, the sweetheart, the wife, 
 Who gave money and time, and, what's dearer than life, 
 Their loved ones — then waited, with anxious concern. 
 For the loved ones who went and might never return, 
 While their agony, heart-ache and harrowing fears 
 Found expression, but faintly, in prayers and in tears. 
 
 Write out the full record ! Tell how many sore needs 
 
 Of the soldiers were met by the generous deeds 
 
 Of these home friends and how, with their messages kind 
 
 And words full of comfort, they sought to remind 
 
 The soldier on duty that friends in the rear 
 
 Remembered him ever with love most sincere ; 
 
 And tell how this kindness cheered each soldier heart 
 
 And led him more bravely to do his full part 
 
 Toward winning a victory signal and grand 
 
 For Union and Freedom and Right in our land. 
 
 Write out the full record? It cannot be done, 
 For too short is the time which our mortal lives run. 
 Let writers, and poets and orators too 
 Through all a long lifetime their labors pursue. 
 Let them gather their data and work with a will 
 To make a full record — the best of their skill. 
 And when all is finished — their facts all enrolled — 
 Still half of the story will yet be untold. 
 
 Write out the full record? The task is too great, 
 
 Though all of our heroes their stories should state ; 
 
 Let the soldiers on land and the sailors on sea 
 
 All write what they can for this great history — 
 
 What they saw, what they did, what they felt, what they knew, 
 
 During all the long years they were wearing the blue. 
 
 But these, all compiled, with their views manifold. 
 
 Will leave a great story which cannot be told. 
 
 Write out the full record? The long roll of fame 
 Is not for us mortals to know or to name ; 
 The trials and suffering, the hardship and woe, 
 The sacrifice, heartaches and blood's fearful flow. 
 The agony, death and heroic endeavor 
 Will escape in their fulness earth's records forever, 
 Yet they all will appear in the book of God's love 
 When the angels shall open that volume above. 
 
WAR VERSE 
 
 Write out the full record ! If not the grand whole, 
 
 Enough can be writ of that long, honored roll 
 
 Of glory-crowned heroes in battle array, 
 
 To be read and remembered and cherished alway. 
 
 The record, in part, from its glittering page 
 
 Will give inspiration to each coming age, 
 
 And will lead generations that yet are to be 
 
 To keep this great nation the land of the free. 
 
 COMRADESHIP. 
 
 You ask why I gave the name "Comrade" 
 
 To the man whom we met over there. 
 Who seemed very plain and scarce worthy 
 
 Of any one's notice or care. 
 Well, I will proceed to inform you 
 
 And when all my story you hear. 
 Perhaps you will never more wonder 
 
 Or think that my greeting was queer. 
 
 When the war of tht Southern rebellion 
 
 Burst forth in its terrible might 
 And the armies of treason rushed forward 
 
 To fight against Union and Right, 
 That man took his gun and his knapsack, 
 
 Marched out with our patriots true, 
 To defend with his might and his manhood 
 "Old Glory"— the Red, White and Blue. 
 
 Four years in the grand Union army 
 
 He proved faithful by day and by night. 
 Did duty with loyal endeavor, 
 
 Stood firm by the cause he deemed right. 
 And ever both true and heroic, 
 
 With heart always loyal and brave, 
 He labored and battled and suffered 
 
 In seeking the Union to save. 
 
 In camp life he shared, uncomplaining, 
 
 Privations and hardships severe. 
 Put up with short rations and ever 
 
 Spoke words of inspiring good cheer ; 
 He felt that his life in the army 
 
 Was all for his country, and so 
 He was willing to labor and suffer 
 
 For treason's complete overthrow. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 
 
 On guard he knew nothing but duty 
 Though his legs might grow weary with pain; 
 
 On the march 'mid the heat of the summer 
 And oft through the fierce falling rain, 
 
 He ever moved forward, undaunted, 
 Wherever his duty was found. 
 
 And often at night, worn and weary, 
 
 Bivouacked on the cold, frozen ground. 
 
 He stood true at his post when on picket, 
 
 'Mid the storm, or the cold, or the heat, 
 Though often wet through and though shivering, 
 
 While facing the rain and the sleet. 
 He knew he was there as the guardian 
 
 Of all the vast hosts in the rear. 
 And that failure to do his full duty 
 
 Might cause them a loss most severe. 
 
 On the skirmish he ever proved faithful. 
 
 Pushing on with a resolute will. 
 Engaging the foe if he met him. 
 
 Resolved every task to fulfill. 
 Sometimes he was called to face danger, 
 
 Might even be wounded or slain, 
 Yet he failed not to do his full duty 
 
 In the cause he had sworn to maintain. 
 
 Ofttimes on the field of fierce battle 
 
 He stood firm and would never retreat, 
 'Mid the hailstorm of thick-falling bullets, 
 
 'Mid the wounded and dead at his feet. 
 By danger and death all undaunted 
 
 He fought 'till his duty was done — 
 Till the foe was forced back and defeated 
 
 And a glorious victory won. 
 
 In hospital, shattered and wounded. 
 
 And racked with some terrible pain. 
 Or tossing with some raging fever 
 
 That burned through his every vein, 
 With friends far away and but strangers 
 
 To give him attention and care. 
 He worried and struggled and suflfered 
 
 But never gave way to despair. 
 
WAR VERSE 
 
 And thus as a typical soldier 
 
 He lal)ored and wrought with a will, 
 Asking only the question of duty, 
 
 While seeking his part to fulfill. 
 Giving ever to God and his country 
 
 The best he could possibly give, 
 That the foe might be promptly defeated 
 
 And the Union continue to live. 
 
 He may have been only a private, 
 
 Or perhaps was an officer high, 
 But, if he was valiant and loyal, 
 
 And ready for country to die. 
 If he marched, or stood guard, or did battle, 
 
 Whate'er his position might be, 
 He's a hero that's won recognition 
 
 As a friend and a "comrade" from me. 
 
 For "comrade" means love for one's country, 
 
 Devotion to duty and right. 
 Means friendship among us old soldiers, 
 
 A word bringing constant delight. 
 Means charity — that which endureth — 
 
 The one greatest virtue of all, 
 And loyalty which answers promptly 
 
 Whenever one's country may call. 
 
 And these meanings, when joined and cemented, 
 
 Give us "comrade" that capital word. 
 Which wakens the tenderest feelings 
 
 Whenever or wherever heard. 
 And the soldier, who knows its full meaning, 
 
 Finds, in all of our language apart. 
 No word which so fully expresses 
 
 The generous warmth of the heart. 
 
 And so, every old Union soldier 
 
 Is a "comrade" to me evermore, 
 For I served in the grand Union army 
 
 And I know what he suffered and bore ; 
 And I should be false to my duty 
 
 If, knowing all this, I should not 
 Always give him the greeting of "comrade" 
 
 Whatever his station or lot. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 
 
 And thus I go on with my greeting 
 
 To every old soldier I meet, 
 And expect to continue it always 
 
 Till life on this earth is complete, 
 And when in the "happy hereafter" 
 
 We meet 'round the camp-fire above, 
 I shall greet him as only a "comrade," 
 
 That name which all true soldiers love. 
 
 THIS LITTLE BRONZE BUTTON. 
 
 This little bronze button we soldiers prize so 
 Was made from the cannon we took from the foe, 
 When fighting for Union in deadly afifray 
 "The Blue" won a victory over "The Gray." 
 It seems but a trifle, yet ever with pride 
 We'll cherish it fondly, whatever betide ; 
 While it has little value when measured in gold, 
 As a badge of high valor its price can't be told — 
 This little bronze button, this valor-won button. 
 This Grand Army button, its price can't be told. 
 
 If this button could speak a proud story 'twould tell 
 
 Of heroes who battled both bravely and v/ell ; 
 
 Of the courage they showed, armed with Loyalty's might. 
 
 When they met the proud foe in the thick of the fight. 
 
 It would tell of privations and hardships severe. 
 
 Of danger and death that were faced without fear. 
 
 Of heartaches and agonies borne by the brave 
 
 When they labored and struggled the Union to save — 
 
 This little bronze button, this blood-hallowed button, 
 
 This Grand Army button is the badge of the brave. 
 
 No one wears this button save only the true 
 
 Who fought for the Union and honored "the Blue," 
 
 And to these 'tis an emblem of Fraternity, 
 
 Enduring and sacred while this life shall be ; 
 
 Of charity such as the brave only know 
 
 For the comrades who with them have faced the proud foe : 
 
 And of Loyalty which thru war's terrible hell 
 
 Led them bravely to battle, though hosts of them fell — 
 
 This little bronze button, this true-comrade button, 
 
 This Grand Army button emblems F, C. and L. 
 
10 WAR VERSE 
 
 This button, though small yet contains in itself 
 What cannot be bought with a continent's wealth, 
 For it symbols a love that led thousands to give 
 Their blood and their life that the Nation might live. 
 And so, day by day, we will prize it the more 
 As the years bear us on toward Eternity's shore. 
 While joined in a comradship loyal and rare, 
 This little bronze button we'll evermore wear — 
 This little bronze button, this glory-crowned button, 
 This Grand Army button we'll evermore wear. 
 
 AFTER FORTY YEARS. 
 
 Ah ! give me your hand, my honest old boy, 
 The hand that I've trusted in moments of joy, 
 And sorrow as well, for as chums you and I 
 Tasted each to its full in the days long gone by. 
 
 It has been a long time since that muster-out day 
 When you to the East and I West sped away : 
 It was pretty tough work, and caused many a sigh, 
 To part from "the boys" and bid them good bye. 
 
 Those "boys !" what a set of brave, gallant men ! 
 Not as many to-day as were mustered out then, 
 But living or dead, they were gallant and true 
 As any who e'er wore the gray or the blue. 
 
 You mind the old flag, all shattered and torn. 
 
 That above us in battle so often was borne — 
 
 How we kissed it, the tears coursing down each bronzed cheek, 
 
 While our hearts were so full that neither could speak. 
 
 Yes ! yes ! you've grown old ! It is now forty years 
 Since we said our good-byes amid sorrow and tears ; 
 Your face has grown wrinkled, your hair turned to gray. 
 And your step is less firm than it was on that day. 
 
 How's my leg? Well, 'tis better, much better by far 
 Than I thought it would be at the close of the war; 
 Though at times I am racked through and through with its pain, 
 Still I hobble about with my crutch and my cane. 
 
 You know I gave up and thought I should die 
 On the field where I fell that sad day in July ; 
 Still I worried it through and am here, as you see, 
 But not half of the man that I wish I could be. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 11 
 
 What a battle that was ! And the charge that we made 1 
 How it thrills me to think of that gallant brigade 
 Rushing on with a yell o'er that cannon-swept field, 
 Determined to conquer and never to yield. 
 
 Unmindful of death, right onward they sped, 
 With our regiment boys just a little ahead; 
 Right on through that tempest of iron and lead 
 Which covered the ground with our dying and dead. 
 
 But I fell, and the boys hurried rapidly on, 
 Intent on the task they had set to be done ; 
 With shout and with yell on, over the field, 
 Right up to the line where the rebs were concealed. 
 
 Then a volley of death, and back came our boys 
 With the rebels pursuing, mid thundering noise, 
 And booming of cannon and deafening yell, 
 Like the shouting of all the wild demons of hell. 
 
 On past me the boys sped away in their flight. 
 The rebels close on them to left and to right ; 
 One chap raised his musket and aimed at my head, 
 But a shot from our guns laid him prostrate and dead. 
 
 The next I remember the rebels came back, 
 With our gallant brigade close on to their track ; 
 With fresh reinforcements on, over the plain, 
 Our boys drove the rascals before them again. 
 
 Right on to their works, and over them, too. 
 Rushed the boys in gray, while the boys in blue 
 Pushed after them closely and gave them no chance 
 To halt and reform for another advance. 
 
 The rout was complete — the battle was done. 
 But the victory gained was most fearfully won. 
 Nearly half of our boys who entered the fray 
 Lay wounded or dead at the close of the day. 
 
 That night as you know, I lay where I fell, 
 And the torture I suffered no mortal can tell, 
 That leg — how it pained me and bled till I thought 
 I was bleeding to death and was dying for naught. 
 
12 WAR VERSE 
 
 Those long, weary hours, they come to me yet 
 With a vivid remembrance I ne'er can forget — 
 How I worried them through 'neath that pitiless sky. 
 Not hoping to live not willing to die. 
 
 At first life seemed gliding so sweetly away 
 
 That I felt almost wicked to ask it to stay, 
 
 But as night wore along, the pain grew so intense 
 
 That it roused against death every nerve in defense. 
 
 With the agony wild, with the torturing pain, 
 With the twisting of muscle and racking of brain, 
 With the coldness of death and the burning of hell, 
 How I lived through that night I never could tell. 
 
 One moment 'twas hope, next moment 'twas fear, 
 Now a curse and a yell, then a prayer and a tear, 
 Now quiet and calm as the sweet sleeping child, 
 Then maddened and crazed with a brain running wild. 
 
 Once my mind was inflamed with images dire ; 
 I thought that my lips and my heart were on fire. 
 That my blood, heated over and over again. 
 Rushed boiling and hissing through every vein. 
 
 Then I struggled to rise, but Oh ! God. how the pain 
 Shot through every nerve and fiber again, 
 And I shrieked and I cursed and I prayed till at length 
 I sank to the earth exhausted of strength. 
 
 Then I slept a half sleep, while visions most bright 
 Danced through my crazed brain with a holy delight, 
 And carried me back to my home far away 
 With my wife and my child forever to stay. 
 
 Oh ! 'twas bliss, once again in that dear, hallowed place. 
 
 To clasp that dear wife in my loving embrace, 
 
 To feel her warm kiss and to gaze with delight 
 
 On her face which my coming made happy and bright. 
 
 And Eva, that sweet little four year old bird ! 
 
 She climbed in my lap without saying a word, 
 
 And nestled close down in my bosom to stay. 
 
 With her cheek against mine in that old-fashioned way. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 13 
 
 And I drank it all in, and was happy and blest, 
 Forgetful of pain, undisturbed by unrest, 
 And my cup was so full, that it almost ran o'er, 
 And I felt most content and could ask for no more. 
 
 How long it all lasted, I never could tell, 
 
 But I woke up at length with a terrible yell ; 
 
 As the morning came on you had found where I lay. 
 
 And were lifting me up to take me away. 
 
 You know all that followed : The hospital near. 
 My leg taken off and that long night of fear 
 That I could not get well, the nursing, and then. 
 After long weary days, how I rallied again. 
 
 And I got well at last and am here, as you see, 
 Getting all out of life that I can possibly. 
 And my wife and my child, God bless them alway. 
 To my heart they grow dearer and dearer each day. 
 
 The war called for men, and I went, as I ought, 
 And I cheerfully suffered and cheerfully fought ; 
 True, I have but one leg, but I'm glad I could give 
 The other, at least, that our Nation might live. 
 
 I have sacrificed much, but never as yet 
 For the course that I took have I had a regret. 
 While my love for the Union is stronger, I know. 
 For the sacrifice made to prevent its o'erthrow. 
 
 BILLY WATvSON 
 
 You ask if I knowed Billy Watson? 
 
 Wall, I should remark that I did. 
 We growed up on farms that lay jinin'. 
 
 And I knowed him when only a kid. 
 As a boy he was nothin' but common, 
 
 At times jest a little bit wild, 
 But all the naburs, they liked him 
 
 And petted him from a child. 
 
 He was alius a rollickin' feller, 
 Not handsome, or overly neat. 
 
 While he didn't care much about werkin', 
 But fer loafin' he couldn't be beat. 
 
14 WAR VERSE 
 
 Fur dogs and fur bosses, and huntin' 
 
 He had a great likin', and so 
 He skipped the hard work and left others 
 
 The heft of the werkin' to do. 
 
 We went to the army together 
 
 And bunked in the same dog tent, 
 Stood shoulder to shoulder in battle. 
 
 And divied the last red cent. 
 Bill was wunderful kind and big-hearted, 
 
 Bilin' over with laughter and fun, 
 Alius standin' fustrate with his cumrades, 
 
 Bein' a square friend with every one. 
 
 He wus alius a-doin' sum kindness, 
 
 A-helpin' the worn-out and sick, 
 A-carryin' uf some feller's knapsack. 
 
 Or a-doin' sum other such trick, 
 With a comrade he found right down hungry 
 
 He'd share both his grub and his cup, 
 Or do duty fur any poor feller 
 
 Who hated, when sick, to give up. 
 
 He was none of yer dress-parade soldiers, 
 
 Cud scarce tell the right frum left face, 
 Found his big feet too dog-gasted clumsy 
 
 To have 'em on time or in place, 
 While to handle a gun with persission 
 
 He never seemed able to learn. 
 And he knowed jest enuff about drillin' 
 
 To blunder at every turn. 
 
 He liked all the ruff and the tumble, 
 
 The excitement uf war and uf strife, 
 Bein' ruff, just a bit, by his natur' 
 
 And pleased with a ruff sort of life. 
 He cud sware, now and then, like a trooper, 
 
 Tell a story, or sing you a song. 
 Drink his full share of grog with his cumrads. 
 
 And feel he wus doin' no wrong. 
 
 But when it cum to a skirmish, 
 
 Or a regeler stand-up fight, 
 He wus alius on hand fur duty 
 
 And nerved with a loyal might. 
 Now and then when the line moved forrud, 
 
 He was sure to be leadin' the van, 
 Shoutin' out to his cumrads to foller 
 
 "And lick the hull d d rebel clan." 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 15 
 
 He seemed not to think about danger, 
 
 But mid thickest uf shot and uf shell, 
 Wud fight like sum ragin' demon 
 
 From the very depths of Hell ; 
 His voice wus the loudest in cheerin', 
 
 His gun wus the surest uf aim, 
 And his shoutin' the loudest and proudest 
 
 When we won at the deadly game. 
 
 One day betwixt the two armies 
 
 A farm house wus set on fire, 
 And while all were steadily gazin' 
 
 As the flames swept higher and higher, 
 A child at the upper winder 
 
 Wus seen thru the smoke-cloud's rift. 
 And all knowed the child must perish 
 
 Unless rescued prompt and swift. 
 
 Bill tuk in the siteration, 
 
 And wus off at once like a shot, 
 Not mindin' the rebel bullets. 
 
 All danger to self f urgot ; 
 He reached the farm house in safety. 
 
 Plunged in thru the smoke and heat. 
 Rushed up the stairs like lightnin' 
 
 To the child's unsafe retreat. 
 
 He gathered the child to his busum, 
 
 Turned back on his perilous path. 
 Sped down the stairs in an instant, 
 
 And wus safe from the fire fiend's wrath, 
 While the Johnnies, who'd seen him enter 
 
 Mid their shower of leaden rain, 
 Were ready with loaded muskets 
 
 If he dared to appear again. 
 
 But when they saw him a-comin' 
 
 With the child to his busum pressed, 
 And caught at the noble purpose, 
 
 That had stirred in his manly breast, 
 The warm Southern heart was conquered, 
 
 The Southern soul inspired 
 With such lofty admiration 
 
 That not a gun was fired. 
 
16 WAR VERSE 
 
 The Johnnies stood silent a minit, 
 A-watchin' what Bill wud do, 
 
 Admirin' his noble darin', 
 And his courage he'd proven true, 
 
 Then all their united voices 
 Burst forth in a mighty shout 
 
 That shook the ground that they stood on 
 
 And all the great hills about. 
 
 Agin' and agin' they all shouted. 
 
 Agin' and agin' they all yelled, 
 And as each new shout rolled upward 
 
 Still louder and louder it swelled, 
 Till the shout was caught up by the Yankees 
 
 And then fur the longest spell, 
 The only fight 'twixt the Johnnies and Yanks 
 
 Wus, which cud the loudest yell. 
 
 And such shoutin' and hootin' and yellin'. 
 
 Such howlin' both wild and shrill 
 I never heard in my long life-time, 
 
 And never hereafter will. 
 Unless in the good time a-comin' 
 
 Wlicn the Yanks and the Johnnies get home, 
 I hear 'em round Heaven's big camp-fire 
 
 A-shoutin' 'bout "Kingdom Come." 
 
 Bill seemed not to think of the shoutin', 
 
 Paid no attention or heed 
 To the thanks both armies were votin' 
 
 To him for his darin' deed. 
 But away he sped with his burden 
 
 Toward the camp uf the friendly Yanks, 
 Thinkin' only uf savin' that child-life 
 
 And nuthin' uf anyone's thanks. 
 
 But a shot frum some far-ofif cannon 
 
 Thru the air most cruelly sped, 
 Hit Bill as he journeyed onward 
 
 And left him all shattered and dead. 
 While the child, that stood at the winder 
 
 And to every appearance wus lost 
 Wus saved to its friends and kindred 
 
 Tho at fearful and terrible cost. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 17 
 
 Bill wus none of the overly "pious," 
 
 Didn't mumble his prayers overmuch, 
 But, if heaven counts kind and brave actions, 
 
 'Twill pervide a good place fur all such, 
 Fur once said the Master, Heaven's ruler, 
 
 In words jest as plain as can be— 
 "Inasmuch as ye did it to these little ones, 
 
 Ye have done it alike unto me." 
 
 MY TREASURE HOUSE 
 (The Son of a Veteran Speaks.) 
 
 I am guarding my treasure house closely, 
 
 I keep it with lock and with key. 
 For the treasures, contained there, are precious. 
 
 Most rich in their value to me. 
 They are plain, but I prize them more highly 
 
 Than richest of jewels or gold, 
 While it takes but a moment to count them 
 
 Their value can never be told. 
 
 There's a pair of old shoes — very common — 
 
 Which many would scarce deign to touch, 
 They are rusty and dusty — I know it^ 
 
 And in money their worth is not much. 
 Were they ofifered for sale in the market. 
 
 No person would offer to buy. 
 But while they are worthless to others, 
 
 I prize them exceedingly high ; 
 For once tliey were worn by a soldier 
 
 On his marches by day and by night, 
 And I know they trod only one pathway — 
 
 The pathway of duty and right. 
 
 Here's the canteen this same Union soldier 
 
 Was carrying that day when he fell. 
 On this side the mark of a bayonet. 
 
 On that side the dent from a shell. 
 Perhaps it is foolish to keep it, 
 
 But 'twas his, and it lay near his side 
 When faintly — scarce breathing — he called for 't, 
 
 Drank from it one swallow, and died. 
 
18 WAR VERSE 
 
 Here's a pile of old letters ! He wrote them, 
 
 When the war-storm was raging with might, 
 To the wife that he loved, briefly telling 
 
 Of camp life, of march, or of fight; 
 Many years have sped by since the writing. 
 
 Some words have grown faded and dim, 
 But they speak of his love for his country 
 
 From the heart ever loyal in him. 
 
 There's the blouse which he wore in that battle, 
 
 The last where he bore his proud part ; 
 Here's the hole made by that fatal bullet, 
 
 Here the stain of the blood from his heart. 
 He told us of love true and tender 
 
 He bore for his child and his wife. 
 But these tell of love for the Union 
 
 For which he gave freely his life. 
 
 That book was my mother's fond love-gift; 
 
 'Tis faded and soiled, as you see, 
 With a leaf turned just where a marked passage 
 
 Begins with its "Come Unto Me ;" 
 As he lay with his life ending slowly. 
 
 That book to his torn bosom pressed, 
 The last words his lips ever uttered 
 
 Were — "Come unto Me and find rest." 
 
 Who was he — this brave Union soldier? 
 
 A private who served in the ranks. 
 Amid hardships and hunger and fighting, 
 
 With little of pay or of thanks, 
 And yet when we count love of country, 
 
 Devotion to Duty and Right, 
 Mid the names of the world's greatest heroes 
 
 His name shines immortal and bright. 
 
 We may talk of the blood pure and royal 
 
 Of emperors, princes and kings, 
 We may joy while the orator praises 
 
 And the poet inspiringly sings, 
 But no blood ever flowed that was richer 
 
 Through the bravest and best human veins 
 Than the blood of this true, loyal hero, 
 
 Which covers this blouse with its stains. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 19 
 
 Some speak of an ancestry noble, 
 
 Traced back through a thousand long years, 
 Feeling proud as they faithfully trace it 
 
 And glad as their doubt disappears; 
 But for me there's no ancestry nobler 
 
 Than that which I honestly claim. 
 When I point to my brave soldier father 
 
 Whose death crowned with honor his name. 
 
 But there's one sacred treasure I'm keeping. 
 
 That's dearest and best of them all, 
 And I guard it with special devotion. 
 
 Locked closely in Memory's Hall. 
 This treasure sets forth the proud record 
 
 Of one who took part in the fight 
 And laid down his life doing duty 
 
 For Union and Freedom and Right. 
 
 And oft I go over this record. 
 
 Review the full tale it can tell, 
 The camp life, the marches, the skirmish. 
 
 The battle where bravely he fell. 
 And, as I take in the full story 
 
 Of how like a hero he died, 
 I rejoice o'er the name that he left me 
 
 And cherish that name with just pride. 
 
 Some boast of a heritage royal 
 
 That is left by some father to son — 
 A fortune that reaches the millions. 
 
 Or a name that some ruler has won ; 
 But mine is a heritage prouder 
 
 Than all of earth's riches can bring. 
 Or the name of the most potent ruler, 
 
 Be he emperor, sultan or king. 
 
 And so I guard closely my treasures, 
 
 Prize them more as the years hurry by, 
 Draw from them a grand inspiration 
 
 For purposes noble and high ; 
 For mem'ry would haunt me forever, 
 
 Weigh me down with a feeling of shame, 
 If a failure to do my full duty 
 
 Should tarnish that true, honored name. 
 
20 WAR VERSE 
 
 Yes, we children of men, who fought bravely 
 
 For country 'mid War's fearful strife, 
 And gave to the cause they loved dearly 
 
 Their service, their blood, or their life. 
 Should be true to the lofty example. 
 
 They have left us in Duty and Right 
 And struggle with highest endeavor, 
 
 To make our records equally bright. 
 
 A SOLDIER'S LOVE AFFAIRS. 
 
 I was a youth of some twenty years 
 
 In the summer of sixty-two. 
 When the Civil War was a raging wild 
 
 And a making our people blue, 
 And so I thought that I'd take my gun. 
 
 Being stalwart, and hearty, and strong. 
 And join the army and do what I could 
 
 To help Uncle Sam along. 
 
 I was always a peace-loving sort of a chap, 
 
 With courage a little bit slack. 
 But my parents were dead and no kindred ties 
 
 Interfered for to hold me back; 
 Only one little thing appeared to check. 
 
 Or to disarrange my plan, 
 And that, alas ! was the sober fact, 
 
 That I loved one Sally Ann. 
 
 And Sally Ann loved me just the same, 
 
 So we formed the lovingest pair 
 That was ever seen by mortal man, 
 
 Or was heard of anywhere. 
 Could I say good bye and part from the girl 
 
 And go to the war away? 
 Why ! the very thought almost drove me wild, 
 
 And oppressed me for many a day. 
 
 But after much thought and debate and doubt, 
 
 I concluded that I would go. 
 And then I marched straight to my Sally Ann 
 
 And tearfully told her so. 
 She heard the news with o'erflowing eyes, 
 
 With a sad and a broken heart. 
 Declaring that she would surely die, 
 
 If we were obliged to part. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 21 
 
 I coaxed her much and plead with her — 
 
 I labored and long besought — 
 I brought up every strong argument 
 
 That anyone could have brought; 
 I declared I should be ashamed to live 
 
 And remain at home just then 
 When the country was being so sorely tried 
 
 And so greatly needed men. 
 
 Dear Sally Ann heard all that I said, 
 
 But it did not change her mind. 
 She called me heartless and cruel too, 
 
 A heathen, the most unkind — 
 She declared that the Union cause might go, 
 
 And the enemy grow more strong 
 Before she'd consent to my going a step 
 
 To help the Nation along. 
 
 I tried to bolster the matter up 
 
 The best that a mortal could 
 By telling how very much I loved 
 
 The cause for which I stood ; 
 I said that 'twas duty that bade me go, 
 
 And that I would be base indeed, 
 If I should thus hear my country call 
 
 And should pay that call no heed. 
 
 So very strong did I urge my cause. 
 
 So forcibly make my plea. 
 That Sally Ann could but yield at last, 
 
 Though in tears and in misery. 
 She said that perhaps I had better go 
 
 And gallantly do my part, 
 While she would try to live, if she could. 
 
 Though 'twas with a broken heart. 
 
 Then came the parting! And such a time 
 
 Two lovers had never had ! 
 With enough of sighs and groans and tears 
 
 To make all the angels sad. 
 And promises strong to write each day, 
 
 And pledges, by many a score, 
 That we would ever most loyal be 
 
 And faithful for evermore. 
 
22 WAR VERSE 
 
 Then quickly I sped to the army away 
 
 And my soldier life began, 
 Resolved to my country to ever be true, 
 
 And true to my Sally Ann. 
 Our daily letters both came and went. 
 
 Filled with loving words and true. 
 Which cheered our two hearts and made them glad. 
 
 As no other thing could do. 
 
 The letters that came from my Sally Ann — 
 
 I never — no! never — can tell 
 How much they lightened my aching heart, 
 
 Or how, with their magic spell, 
 They aided in making my duty light 
 
 And in helping me bravely to bear 
 The trials and hardships and dangers too 
 
 That came to me everywhere. 
 
 In camp, or on march, or on battle-field 
 
 These letters, kept near to my heart, 
 Inspired within me the highest resolve 
 
 To faithfully do my part. 
 While ever in mind was the cheering thought- 
 
 "When we whip the traitorous clan, 
 I will quickly fly on the wings of love 
 
 To my faithful Sally Ann." 
 
 Now Sally's letters came right on time, 
 
 With their loving words and sweet, 
 For the space of nearly eighteen months, 
 
 And then they began to retreat. 
 Coming only at lengthening intervals. 
 
 While shorter and shorter they grew. 
 Until at length they entirely stopped, 
 
 Leaving me very sad and blue. 
 
 I thought this thing most remarkably strange, 
 
 — Most decidedly odd, and queer — 
 That Sally Ann should neglect to write 
 
 When her love was so deep and sincere. 
 So I sent her letters, at least a score, 
 
 Requesting her promptly to name 
 The reason she had for this strange neglect, 
 
 But the answer — it never came. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 23 
 
 At last, grown desperate with my grief, 
 
 I proffered an earnest request 
 For leave to visit my northern home 
 
 "For business," I said, "and rest." 
 Then, having promptly this leave obtained, 
 
 I started without delay, 
 Urged on by my love and anxious thought 
 
 To travel both night and day. 
 
 But alas! and alas! this fickle world 
 
 Works its measure of m.isery, 
 And Sally Ann, v/ith her fickle heart, 
 
 Dealt a crushing blow to mc. 
 At hom.e I found that the week before 
 
 She was to the altar led 
 And, deserting me and the Union cauce, 
 
 Had married a "Copperhead." 
 
 I cannot tell of the bitter grief 
 
 This brought to my aching heart ; 
 I cannot tell of the fearful pain 
 
 That came with its cruel smart ; 
 I can only say that my Sally Ann 
 
 Was another's forevermore. 
 While I was a sad and deserted youth 
 
 With a broken heart and sore. 
 
 And so, bowed down with my pain and grief, 
 
 I returned to the field of strife. 
 A thinking that little remained for me 
 
 But to end my weary life. 
 And wherever my duty said to me "go," 
 
 I went with a reckless pride, 
 Not caring a whit what the end might be, 
 
 Or whether I lived or died. 
 
 But my soldier life was ende'd one day 
 
 In a bloody and desperate fight, 
 When, pushing along with a charging host, 
 
 With a sort of reckless might, 
 A rebel bullet came swift and sure 
 
 In the midst of the terrible strife. 
 And laid me low with a fearful wound 
 
 That almost cost me my life. 
 
24 WAR VERSE 
 
 I was taken at once to the hospital, 
 
 So I've heard my comrades say, 
 Where I lingered along betwixt life and death 
 
 For many a weary day. 
 But at length with the kindest and best of care 
 
 My wound — it began to heal, 
 And a longing to live came back to me 
 
 Such as only the young can feel. 
 
 One day from a fit of delirium wild 
 
 As I wakened to consciousness, 
 I felt on my brow a gentle hand 
 
 With a tender and kind caress, 
 And, looking up, I caught the sight 
 
 Of what seemed an angel's face, 
 So rich was it crowned by Nature's hand 
 
 With every heavenly grace. 
 
 I inquired her name and who she was 
 
 Before many days had fled. 
 "She's the angel of the hospital," 
 
 Is what all the comrades said ; 
 "She's a watching here and a helping there 
 
 And a soothing us midst our pain. 
 We know she's an angel and that is all, 
 
 But we call her Mary Jane." 
 
 For weeks I did little but watch and think, 
 
 As this "angel" went on her way. 
 Consoling one here and cheering one there. 
 
 Kept busy both night and day. 
 She sang, or read, or prayed for the boys. 
 
 Wrote letters with kindly art. 
 Or with word, or smile, or gentle caress 
 
 Brought cheer to the lonely heart. 
 
 Do you ask me now why I talk of this, 
 Sound her praises so loud and high, 
 
 While hundreds of nurses did just as well 
 In those terrible days gone by? 
 
 Well I'll tell you, my friend, and I'll tell you true- 
 As my body grew free from pain. 
 
 There sprang up in my heart, in some magic way, 
 A love for this Mary Jane. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 25 
 
 And I told her that love one quiet night. 
 
 When I was getting most well, 
 But how I told or what I said, 
 
 If I tried, I could never tell. 
 I only know that the love I gave 
 
 Was returned with a double share, 
 While we pledged ourselves to be man and wife 
 
 And we pledged it then and there. 
 
 Six months from that time, on a quiet day, 
 
 I proud to the altar led 
 The fairest, sweetest, most charming bride 
 
 That any man ever wed. 
 And the little nurse, whose tender care 
 
 And watching had saved my life, 
 I was only too happy and proud to call 
 
 My darling, beloved wife. 
 
 For more than forty swift speeding years 
 
 We, together, have moved along, 
 A having our share of cloud and rain 
 
 But more of light and song; 
 And so I rejoice at the kindly Fate 
 
 That, looking to my gain. 
 Deprived me of a Sally Ann 
 
 And gave me Mary Jane. 
 
 HURRAH FOR THE BRAVE VOLUNTEERS. 
 
 Tune — "Sweet By and By." 
 
 To arms sprang the Brave Volunteers 
 With a courage both loyal and true, 
 
 When with hatred inspired 
 
 Foul treason had fired 
 On "Old Glory"— "The Red, V/hite and Blue." 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Then hurrah for our Brave Volunterrs, 
 We name them with pride and delight, 
 While we sing how they fought 
 And how bravely they wrought 
 In defense of the Union and Right. 
 
26 WAR VERSE 
 
 All hail to the Brave Volunteers, 
 For, with loyalty, hardy and rare, 
 
 The thousands enrolled, 
 
 Ever fearless and bold. 
 Were ready to do and to dare. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Give praise to the Brave Volunteers, 
 For ever in battle's fierce strife, 
 
 With valor and might 
 
 They struck for the Right, 
 Giving freely of blood and of life. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 There is fame for the Brave Volunteers, 
 And honor both now and alway, 
 
 Their record shines bright 
 
 With glory's own light 
 And we hail it with gladness today. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Here are tears for the Brave Volunteers, 
 For their many true heroes and brave, 
 
 Who have passed to their rest 
 
 In the land of the blest 
 Through the portals of death and the grave. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 VOLUNTEERS. 
 Tune — "Illinois." 
 
 I will sing the wondrous story 
 
 Volunteers, Volunteers, 
 How you won immortal glory, 
 
 Volunteers, Volunteers, 
 How you fought with courage true, 
 Equalled only by the few, 
 Winning honor for "The Blue," 
 
 Volunteers, Volunteers, 
 Winning honor for "The Blue," 
 
 Volunteers. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 27 
 
 When the battle's wrath v^as raging, 
 And "The Blue" "The Gray" engaging, 
 Through the flaming gates of Hell, 
 Mid a storm of shot and shell, 
 Brave you fought, though many fell. 
 
 As the hosts that saved the Nation 
 You achieved an honored station, 
 For you made a gallant fight 
 For the Union and the Right, 
 Put the bravest foe to flight. 
 
 With the names on Glory's pages 
 Yours will shine through all the ages. 
 And will prove an inspiration, 
 Waking love for Flag and Nation, 
 Hailed by all with admiration. 
 
 May your heroes, health possessing, 
 Long enjoy life's every blessing, 
 And at length on Heaven's bright shore, 
 With your comrades gone before, 
 Dwell in peace for evermore. 
 
 GALLANT BOYS IN BLUE. 
 
 I will sing their noble daring, 
 
 Gallant Boys in Blue, 
 How they fought, all danger sharing, 
 
 Gallant Boys in Blue, 
 Fought in battles dread and gory, 
 Famed alike in song and story. 
 Fought for Union and "Old Glory," 
 
 Gallant Boys in Blue, 
 Fought for Union and "Old Glory," 
 
 Gallant Boys in Blue. 
 
 When War's traitor tocsin sounded. 
 And all loyal hearts astounded, 
 "Down with treason," rose their cry, 
 "Fling the Union banner high. 
 For it we will do or die." 
 
28 WAR VERSE 
 
 Through long years of firm endeavor, 
 
 Brave they wrought and faltered never, 
 
 Brave in battle's stern array. 
 
 And wfherever duty lay, 
 
 Conquering victory from "The Gray." 
 
 They have passed the honored portals 
 To the Hall of earth's immortals, 
 And their names will ever cheer 
 Those who hold the Union dear, 
 Striking traitor hearts with fear. 
 
 Hail we, then, with admiration, 
 Those who fought and saved the Nation, 
 And our praise shall rise and swell 
 Through the land we love so well 
 As their valiant deeds we tell. 
 
 HE DIED WHERE HE FELL 
 
 "It was a bloody fight ! Yet I still live, 
 But torn and shattered in a fearful way ; 
 
 One hand all gone ! Leg broke — I would not give 
 A farthing for my life after this day. 
 
 "I lie alone upon this blood-stained field ; 
 
 Too dark around me to be seen or see. 
 Will no one come to rescue me, or yield 
 
 A little comfort in my misery? 
 
 "I did not think to live a moment when 
 
 We made that charge amid the shot and shell 
 
 The rebels sent. Twice driven back and then 
 We won, while torn and bleeding sore, I fell. 
 
 "For hours I've lain here, and for hours must lie. 
 
 Such racking pain ! O ! God, how can 1 live ! 
 Blood flowing free, strength waning — I shall die. 
 
 Here give to country all I have to give. 
 
 "And yet it matters not ! But once comes death, 
 And once he must come to the best of men ; 
 
 He meets the millions and their fluttering breath 
 Steals quick away — but never comes again. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 29 
 
 "It matters not? I am so young as yet; 
 
 But two and twenty years flown o'er my head. 
 That is not long — but still I can't forget 
 
 The joy and gladness they have round me shed. 
 
 "So I would live! Not because Death I fear, 
 
 But life has charms for one so young as I. 
 Mid all this pain bright visions hover near 
 
 And make me long to live — I would not die. 
 
 "Yet Death may come, and I be forced to go 
 
 At his stern bidding. His relentless call 
 Brooks no delay or hindrance, and if so 
 
 I must obey and yield him up my all. 
 
 "Tis sad to die so young ! And yet — and yet 
 What is one life, or thousands, if the might 
 Of our Grand Army conquer wrong and get 
 A victory for Country, Truth and Right. 
 
 "Yes, I would live ! But I can die content 
 
 If only Country can be safe and free — 
 I would not live to see it torn and rent, 
 
 Severed, dishonored, robbed of liberty. 
 
 "Oh, God, if Death must come, accept my prayer. 
 
 And let me with thy blessing now be blest. 
 I die for Countrj'^Oh ! receive me where 
 
 Wars never come, but all is peace and rest." 
 
 The hours rolled on and at the dawn of day 
 His comrades found him, lying where he fell ; 
 
 His form was lifeless, and that cold, cold clay, 
 Of his sad ending, had no tale to tell. 
 
 Xo tale to tell ? Ah ! yes, the wounds there found 
 — These told a tale of wondrous force and pride, 
 
 How, hero-like, with ardent valor crowned, 
 For Country and for Right he fought and died. 
 
 THE ESCAPING SOLDIER. 
 
 "An' yu-uns a Yankee sojer 
 
 What's dun lost and can't fin' yoo way? 
 An' yuse 'scapin' frum dem blarsted rebels 
 
 What nabbed yoo one udder day? 
 
30 WAR VERSE 
 
 Wall, cum in an' make yooself welcum, 
 Ise not gwine to turn yoo out 
 
 While Ise got a bit uf col' hoe-cake 
 An' bacon a-lyin' about. 
 
 "Yuse all wet, an' cold, an' hungry! 
 
 Wall, set on dis stule by de fire 
 An' git yooself warm and a-rested, 
 
 While I pile de wood a bit higher. 
 'Tis a moighty bad night to be strugglin' 
 
 Fru de hills, an' de swamps, an' de rain, 
 An' I specs how yuse perty nigh wilted 
 
 A-trampin' wid hunger an' pain. 
 
 "I heerd de soun' ob yer footsteps. 
 
 An' yoah knock on de cabin doah, 
 An' I reckoned 'twas sum poah nigger 
 
 Got caught in de rain's down-poah ; 
 But I foun' 'twas a Yankee sojer 
 
 A-wantin' sum rest an' food. 
 An' I reckon dis shanty is yoo'n 
 
 'An all dat it has dat's good. 
 
 "Care fur ye ! Yis — de Lor' bress ye ! 
 
 I'll do jest de best dat I can ; 
 Couldn't shut out any poah sojer 
 
 Dat I knowed wus a Yankee man. 
 So set up an' eat dis yer hoe-cake 
 
 An' bacon — it's not much fur food, 
 But 'tis all dat Ise got an' I reckon 
 
 'Twill do yoo a little bit good. 
 
 "Yis ! dis is one ob de stashuns 
 Ob de un'er-groun' railroad today. 
 
 An' we take in de poah Yankee sojer s 
 Dats runnin' from prison away. 
 
 Las' week we had two poah fellers 
 An' one jes' de week befoah 
 
 An' now my ole man, Jason, 
 
 Is off wid a couple moah. 
 
 "So you stay here to-night an' tomorrer, 
 Git rested de bes' dat yoo can, 
 
 An' tomorrer night in de darkness 
 We'll start you fer Freedom's Ian'. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 31 
 
 An I specs how yoo quickly will get dar 
 All happy, an' safe, an' soun', 
 
 Fur we alius fool de Johnnies 
 Wat keep watchin' an' snoopin' aroun'. 
 
 "I 'lows if ole massa cud see me 
 
 A-feedin' sech 'Yankee trash', 
 He'd cuss an' swar like all fury 
 
 An' wallup me wid de lash, 
 But I knows de good Massa in Hebben 
 
 Ud say how Ise doin' right, 
 A feedin' de poah an' needy 
 
 Dis rainy, onplesant night." 
 
 THE ARMY OF THE OHIO. 
 [For a Re-Union of Said Army.] 
 
 When the "War of the Rebellion" 
 
 Rose with all its angry might. 
 And foul treason marched its legions 
 
 'Gainst the Union and the Right, 
 Then the gallant Sons of Freedom, 
 
 From the North — both East and West, 
 Rallied to defend the Union 
 
 And the land they loved the best — 
 Some fought in those gallant Armies, 
 
 Cumberland and Tennessee, 
 Others in the grand Potomac, 
 
 Or some other it may be, 
 But none fought more brave and loyal, 
 
 Or more gallantry did show, 
 Than thy many valiant heroes — 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 While the struggle raged most fiercely, 
 
 With its years of deadly strife, 
 You stood firmly by the Union, 
 
 Free to give both blood and life. 
 Sharing hardships and privations, 
 
 Doing duty here and there, 
 Ready to defend "Old Glory" 
 
 And all dangers bravely dare — 
 Loyally and freely giving 
 
 All you had on earth to give 
 That the foe might be defeated 
 
 And the Union ever live. 
 
32 WAR VERSE 
 
 Hence we'll sing the wondrous story, 
 As the years shall come and go, 
 
 How your heroes fought and conquered- 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 In the camp, on march or picket, 
 
 'Mid the heat, or rain, or cold, 
 Hungry, worn and sadly weary 
 
 With your duties manifold. 
 In the skirmish with its dangers. 
 
 Midst the battle's leaden rain. 
 With its storm of deadly bullets, 
 
 Working death mid tears and pain. 
 All undaunted you moved forward, 
 
 Knowing naught of doubt or fear, 
 Treading firm the path of duty 
 
 W^ith a loyalty sincere — 
 Ever true to Right and Country, 
 
 Dealing Treason many a blow. 
 Thus you won the proudest honor. 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 In the bloody fight at Shiloh, 
 
 On that second fearful day. 
 When "The Blue" in deadly conflict 
 
 Were arraigned against "The Grey," 
 Then you fought with highest courage, 
 
 Struck with arm of valorous might, 
 Thinking not of death or danger, 
 
 If you only won the fight — 
 Fought, as other Union heroes. 
 
 With resolve to win or die, 
 'Till you vanquished a brave foeman. 
 
 Won a glorious victory, 
 On this field of loyal triumph, 
 
 O'er the bravest of the foe, 
 A grand monument you builded, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 When you crossed the rugged mountains, 
 
 In the Fall of Sixty-three, 
 From Kentucky's fertile regions 
 
 Into Eastern Tennessee, 
 Then you showed the bravest spirit. 
 
 Doing faithfully and well, 
 On half -rations, all the duties, 
 
 Which unto vour lot befell. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 33 
 
 Scarce more hard Napoleon's crossing 
 
 Of the Alps in days agone, 
 Scarce more credit won his army 
 
 Than was by your valor won, 
 For you freely toiled and suffered, 
 
 And by deeds which all should know 
 A new monument you builded, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 In that grand, heroic struggle 
 
 'Mid the hills of Tennessee, 
 When you met as brave a foeman 
 
 As e'er fought with Bragg or Lee, 
 You both wrought and suffered freely, 
 
 Doing duty brave and true, 
 Winning victories for the Nation — 
 
 Fame for those who wore "The Blue." 
 Starving in the siege of Knoxville, 
 
 Fighting bravely here and there 
 Barefoot, ragged, yet undaunted, 
 
 With a pluck beyond compare, 
 One more monument you builded. 
 
 Which will never lose its glow, 
 But, with years, will shine the brighter. 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 With the loyal hosts of Sherman, 
 
 In the Spring of Sixty-four, 
 You pushed forward toward Atlanta, 
 
 And a gallant part you bore — 
 In the skirmish, in the battle, 
 
 'Mid the storm of shot and shell, 
 None more valiant or heroic. 
 
 Though your bravest freely fell. 
 Here and there the foe retreated 
 
 From the fields they'd well maintained, 
 Till we captured proud Atlanta 
 
 And a glorious victory gained. 
 Here again your valor builded 
 
 A proud monument, and so 
 This will stand through all the ages, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 In retreating from Pulaski, 
 
 Falling back in front of Hood, 
 And the overwhelming numbers. 
 
 Which around him bravely stood. 
 
34 WAR VERSE 
 
 Gallantly you did your duty 
 
 Till at Franklin's bloody fight 
 You achieved immortal glory 
 
 For yourself and for the Right. 
 Then at Nashville, bravely battling. 
 
 With our other heroes true. 
 You helped crush the rebel army, 
 
 Won fresh honor for "The Blue." 
 Thus you reared, by pluck and valor, 
 
 A new monument to show 
 What you did to save the Union, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 O'er the sands of Carolina, 
 
 From Fort Fisher, on you went, 
 Driving back the hostile forces 
 
 Which against you had been sent; 
 Everywhere you proved victorious, 
 
 Everywhere your courage won, 
 Till the rebel host surrendered 
 
 And your fighting days were done. 
 Thus again your valor builded 
 
 A last monument, to be 
 A proud herald, ever telling 
 
 Of this final victory. 
 And a mighty army captured 
 
 Of your brave and gallant foe, 
 With the Union saved forever, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 These grand monuments you've builded, 
 
 And while time shall onward run, 
 They will ever speak your praises 
 
 For your duty bravely done. 
 Telling all throughout the Nation 
 
 And proclaiming far and near. 
 How you battled for the Union, 
 
 Fought with loyalty sincere. 
 That the Nation might not perish — 
 
 And thus letting all men know 
 What our soldiers did and suflfered, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 Honor to our great commanders, 
 Schofield, Foster and Burnside, 
 
 Buell and our other leaders 
 
 In whose fame we all take pride ; 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 35 
 
 But we'll give an equal honor 
 
 To all soldiers in the fight 
 Who did true and loyal service 
 
 For the Union and the Right ; 
 For our leaders gave directions 
 
 What they vi^anted to be done, 
 But the doing was accomplished 
 
 By "the men behind the gun." 
 And their deeds will live forever, 
 
 Speaking, as years come and go, 
 Of thy brave and gallant action. 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 Yes ! these monuments, erected 
 
 By the deeds of valiant men, 
 Will stand firm through all the ages, 
 
 Speaking ever and again; 
 Prouder than the proudest marble, 
 
 More enduring, more sublime 
 Than all monuments of granite, 
 
 Builded in all years of time. 
 Ages will not dim their luster. 
 
 Centuries will not impair 
 Aught of glory or of honor 
 
 Which your deeds have builded there. 
 But as years pass on forever 
 
 In their ceaseless, silent flow, 
 These will shine with added brightness, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 Not by this one generation 
 
 Will their voice alone be heard, 
 But each coming generation 
 
 Will catch up each thrilling word, 
 And 'twill prove an inspiration 
 
 To the many yet to be 
 To endure, and dare, and suffer 
 
 To maintain the Nation free; 
 And, as men come more to value 
 
 Both the Union and the Right, 
 Your proud name will be more honored 
 
 And your record shine more bright. 
 While all those who love their country 
 
 Will their richest praise bestow 
 On your deeds of noble daring, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
WAR VERSE 
 
 We'll not claim you builded better 
 
 Than our other armies built, 
 Or your deeds were any braver, 
 
 Or more rich the blood you spilt. 
 But we'll claim you wrought as grandly 
 
 In the history you writ. 
 And the blood was just as loyal 
 
 Which you used in writing it, 
 While you fought with equal valor, 
 
 And your deeds shine just as bright 
 As do those of any Army 
 
 In the glorious Union fight. 
 Hence you'll live among the heroes, 
 
 Who wrought Treason's overthrow 
 Through their brave and gallant actions, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 Army of the grand Potomac ! 
 
 We will ever speak thy praise 
 For thy deeds of noble daring. 
 
 Wrought in war-times' fearful days ; 
 And, proud Army of the Cumberland 1 
 
 Until life's work is done 
 We will never cease to praise thee 
 
 For thy many battles won ; 
 And, brave Army of the Tennessee ! 
 
 No higher praise shall be 
 To these two other Armies 
 
 Than we gladly give to thee ; 
 And to all the other Armies 
 
 Which upheld the Union cause 
 And did duty brave and loyal 
 
 We award our high applause, 
 But today our highest praises. 
 
 Tinged with love's immortal glow, 
 Shall to thee be freely given. 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 Then, hurrah for our proud Army ! 
 
 And while we are praising here. 
 The loyal people everywhere 
 
 Join us with hearty cheer 
 And delight to do thee honor 
 
 For the work you did and dared. 
 And for all the toils and dangers 
 
 Which you once so bravely shared. 
 While all coming generations, 
 
 As they learn to know your worth. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 37 
 
 Will uplift their mighty voices 
 
 And will sound your praises forth. 
 For that land of wondrous richness, 
 
 Where foul Treason dared to grow, 
 You helped save to Right and Union, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 Honor, then, to our grand Army! 
 
 Brave you struggled — brave you fought, 
 And most noble deeds of valor 
 
 And heroic daring wrought. 
 Where the danger was the thickest 
 
 You were present in the fight, 
 Ever prompt to shed your life-blood 
 
 For the cause you thought was right, 
 Pushing on with heart undaunted 
 
 Toward a final victory 
 When the Right should be established 
 On the Rock of Liberty. 
 Thus you fought, and bled and conquered — 
 
 Thus you won the bright halo 
 Of immortal fame and glory, 
 
 Army of the Ohio. 
 
 NOT A "BACK NUMBER." 
 
 "A back number" you call him — that hero who fought 
 
 For Union and Right, and who gallantly wrought. 
 
 For the life of the Nation with loyalty true 
 
 And crowned with fresh honor, "The Red, White and Blue.' 
 
 We know many years have passed hurriedly by 
 
 Since for Union and Right he was ready to die. 
 
 That the world has moved forward with marvelous speed. 
 
 Growing strong in its thought and its wonderful deed, 
 
 But that hero has grown with these swift-passing years, 
 
 Kept abreast of the times with their conflicts and fears, 
 
 Has earnestly labored with brave, loyal heart 
 
 In peace as in war to perform his full part. 
 
 Hence, he's not "a back number" in anyone's view 
 
 Who is ready to honor the brave and the true. 
 
 Our Civil-War heroes, who made their brave fight. 
 Through four years of blood, for the Union and Right, 
 And who, with a courage to do and to dare, 
 Achieved for the Nation a victory rare. 
 Are not yet "back numbers" and will not be ever 
 While men honor brave and heroic endeavor, 
 
liH WAR VERSE 
 
 Or while they remember the deeds that were done 
 By which the great fight for the Union was won. 
 These heroes made history, grand and sublime, 
 And that history will live throughout all coming time 
 And through it these heroes will keep to "the fore," 
 Moulding action and thought in this land evermore. 
 
 It is true — these old heroes are broken with years. 
 
 Show weakness of body as strength disappears, 
 
 While the work they've been doing some other must do, 
 
 And the schemes they have formed some one else carry through ; 
 
 It is true — one by one they are stepping aside 
 
 And, however unwelcome or humbling to pride, 
 
 Are compelled to admit that no longer can they 
 
 Move forward and do as in manhood's proud day ; 
 
 It is true, furthermore, that full many now rest 
 
 On the vast camping ground in "the land of the blest," 
 
 While thousands of others, each swift-passing year 
 
 Are joining them there after leaving us here. 
 
 And soon the great roll-book will sadly declare : 
 
 "Not one present here, but all present there." 
 
 But this does not mean that we ever shall see 
 
 The gallant old soldier moved backward where he 
 
 Must be called "a back number" and take a back seat 
 
 As though he had wrought to meet only defeat. 
 
 Or had grown too enfeebled and helpless with age 
 
 To count as a factor on life's busy stage. 
 
 His cheek may grow wrinkled, his hair turn to grey, 
 
 His hand lose its cunning, his strength pass away, 
 
 His body may even be laid in the grave. 
 
 But his spirit will live in his deeds true and brave, 
 
 And will ever speak loudly, till Time's closing night, 
 
 For Freedom and Union and all that is right. 
 
 Moreover, our people will always retain 
 Their love for the Union and ever remain 
 Justly proud of the heroes who loyally gave 
 Their life, blood, or service the Union to save — 
 And hence they will labor with voice and with pen 
 To keep active the spirit of these gallant men. 
 By telling their story and making it plain 
 What they did for the Nation — its life to maintain, 
 For they know if this spirit once passes away, 
 The Nation itself will soon haste to decay. 
 
 No matter who said it or when it was said — 
 The old soldier will live when his body is dead, 
 
AI^D OTHER VERSE 39 
 
 And, while he thus lives, all our people shall see 
 
 That he's not "a back number" and never will be ; 
 
 For with tongues, in vast numbers, he's speaking today 
 
 And will evermore speak till he passes away. 
 
 And these tongues, when he's dead, will not cease to impart 
 
 Truths grand and inspiring to each loyal heart, 
 
 Thus having a power to quicken the State 
 
 And its people to actions and thoughts true and great. 
 
 Our burying grounds, in the North, East and West, 
 
 Contain many graves of our bravest and best, 
 
 While some of these graves in the one "soldiers' lot," 
 
 Grouped together, make evermore sacred that spot. 
 
 Through these graves the old soldiers will speak and will tell, 
 
 To ages unborn, how they toiled, fought and fell ; 
 
 How peace was secured by the valor and blood 
 
 Of patriots who true to the Union had stood. 
 
 And how peace calls for patriots as true to the Nation 
 
 As those who once fought for the Nation's salvation. 
 
 Here and there through the country proud monuments stand 
 
 In honor of heroes who saved this proud land 
 
 To Union and Right, and who fought a brave foe 
 
 Until they had wrought his complete overthrow ; 
 
 And when people, in ages to come, shall behold 
 
 These monuments, reared to the loyal and bold. 
 
 They will hear the old soldiers speak through them and say 
 
 That 'twas patriot valor and blood wOn the day. 
 
 And gained for the Nation, with cause just and strong, 
 
 A triumph for right and defeat for the wrong. 
 
 And that, if it is duty for country to die, 
 
 It is duty to live for't with purpose most high. 
 
 There are fields of great battles — some kept by the Nation 
 
 And guarded with care and with deep veneration. 
 
 With statues erected in honor of those 
 
 WMio fell on these fields, bravely fighting their foes. 
 
 And as visitors wander these battlefields o'er 
 
 And speak of these heroes who've passed on before. 
 
 Their heads will be bowed and their hearts touched with pain, 
 
 And they'll hear patriot voices, again and again. 
 
 Whisper soft in their ears that, "since time began 
 
 The fittest of deaths is when man dies for man." 
 
 We have national graveyards, where thousands of braves 
 Lie — resting in peace — in their sad, unknown graves — 
 Men whose bodies were gathered from far and from near 
 
40 WAR VERSE 
 
 And who fell at their posts and died without fear, 
 
 And as, ages hereafter, the multitude trf^ad 
 
 The paths through these homes of our brave, honored dead. 
 
 And think of the many who lie sleeping here. 
 
 Or l>ow o'er some grave and perhaps drop a tear. 
 
 They will hear from these graves where our brave heroes lie 
 
 These words: "It is sweet for one's country to die." 
 
 We have poems abundant and songs not a few, 
 Recounting the trials our soldiers passed through, 
 Lauding patriot courage and patriot love. 
 And praising our soldiers all patriots above, 
 And in all time to come these songs will be sung 
 And these poems be read by the old and the young, 
 While through these our soldiers will loyally teach 
 That true love of country which all men and each 
 Must have in their hearts if they would be true 
 To the Nation and Flag in whatever they do. 
 
 There's our history, too, telling of the great fight 
 
 When "the Blue" met "the Grey" and put them to flight. 
 
 Describing the battles, rehearsing the way 
 
 That valor and bloodshed and death won the day. 
 
 And, through all coming years, youth and age will both read 
 
 That record of valor and many brave deed. 
 
 And, while reading it over and learning the facts. 
 
 They will hear the old soldiers sneak out through their acts, 
 
 And tell how a patriot ever should live 
 
 By giving to country the best he can give. 
 
 And thus they'll be nerved with a new inspiration 
 
 To do and to dare for the Flag and the Nation. 
 
 Our laws stand today as they've been rearranged 
 While our great constitution has been somewhat changed, 
 All to meet new conditions the War brought about 
 And to settle vexed questions at one time in doubt, 
 And through these the old soldier is speaking today 
 In plain, simple words, and will thus speak alway, 
 Declaring to all of each new generation 
 That right must be right in the law of the Nation, 
 And that all of our people — the high or the low — 
 Must have freedom and justice wherever they go. 
 
 Our Flag stands for something it never stood for 
 During many long years just before our "great war." 
 For then, while proud Slavery governed the land 
 Our Flag spoke as ordered by its stern command. 
 Declaring, according to Slavery's school. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 41 
 
 That the many should serve, while the few should bear rule ; 
 
 But our soldiers, in blood, wrote this sentence sublime 
 
 On its glittering folds — and 'twill stand for all time : 
 
 "So long as this Nation our God shall preserve 
 
 The many shall rule and no one shall serve." 
 
 And wherever our Flag is unfurled to the breeze 
 
 In peace or in war, on the land or the seas. 
 
 It will bear this grand sentence and all men will see 
 
 That it hails from a Nation whose people are free. 
 
 And, while it speaks to them of Freedom and Right, 
 
 They will gaze on its folds with admiring delight 
 
 And will ask to be told of that wonderful story 
 
 How our soldiers won for it the name of "Old Glory." 
 
 We have, furthermore, our Memorial Day, 
 
 Set apart for this one special purpose : to pay 
 
 Our love and respect to that brave hero band 
 
 Who are safe in their camp in that "bright, better land," 
 
 And, as year after year this day comes around. 
 
 And the loyal observe it with reverence profound, 
 
 As they laud the brave deeds and repeat the proud story 
 
 Of those who, through blood, crowned the Nation with glory, 
 
 Or stand by the graves where their ashes repose 
 
 And decorate these with the lily and rose. 
 
 The old soldiers will speak through each wreath that is spread, 
 
 Through each flower that is dropped and each tear that is shed, 
 
 And will have, in their speaking, some thought to impart 
 
 That will make still more loyal each true, loyal heart. 
 
 In view of these tongues, which are speaking today 
 
 And will speak for the old Union soldiers alway. 
 
 Who will say, of any old soldier, that he 
 
 Is today, "a back number" or ever will be ! 
 
 These soldiers wrote history — wrote it in blood — 
 
 And that history will stand all Time's wreckage and flood. 
 
 And so long as it stands, the old soldier will be 
 
 A live, potent force in this "land of the free," 
 
 And, of all civil duties, the great and the small. 
 
 Will teach love of country as greatest of all. 
 
 "OLD GLORY." 
 
 Fling out the old Flag to the breezes today! 
 
 We'll hail it with joy as we've hailed it alway. 
 
 And we'll gaze on its folds with profound admiration 
 
 As it floats in its pride as the Flag of our Nation. 
 
42 WAR VERSE 
 
 For many long years it has waved o'er the land, 
 
 And we've given it the best love our hearts could command, 
 
 But never, as now, have we held it so dear, 
 
 Or had for it love quite so deep and sincere. 
 
 As we gaze on its folds, of the red and the white, 
 And its stars shining clear as the stars of the night. 
 The red tells to all, how our warm blood would flow 
 To maintain our just rights against any proud foe ; 
 The white says the Nation can only endure 
 While the lives and the acts of its people are pure ; 
 And the stars, shining out with their luster so bright. 
 Speak ever for Union and Freedom and Right. 
 
 "Old Glory," we call it, but just when it came 
 
 To be called thus, or who first gave the name. 
 
 We may know not. — But little that matters, if so 
 
 We learn all the facts that full clear we may know 
 
 Just why it was given — what brave deeds were done 
 
 By which the proud name of "Old Glory" was won ! 
 
 Or who did those deeds and thus made the fame 
 
 Of the Flag, floating o'er them, so bright that the name 
 
 While alone was befitting its dignified state, 
 
 With the people all shouting its praises so great, 
 
 And to which 'twas entitled in speech, song and story, 
 
 Was the proud, honored, worth-crowning name of "Old Glory. 
 
 Our Flag sprang to being at Liberty's call— 
 An- emblem of Freedom and Justice for all- 
 Proclaiming that all men, the small and the great. 
 Must have equal rights by the laws of the State, 
 And declaring, according to Liberty's school. 
 That the many — the people themselves — must bear rule 
 But an evil day came, when the few claimed the right 
 To rule o'er the many — and by the strong might 
 Of "grim-visaged war" sought that right to maintain, 
 Treating all our Flag stood for with utter disdain, 
 And fully resolved all their power to employ 
 The Flag and the Union alike to destroy. 
 
 But the Flag was endeared to the loyal and true, 
 And they rushed to defend it and carried it through 
 To a glorious victory over the foe 
 
 Who would blot out its name and the Union o'erthrow. 
 Through four years of war, with a firm consecration 
 They toiled, fought and bled for the life of the Nation. 
 Bore the Flag, with true courage, 'mid fire, shot and shell 
 Through hundreds of battles where many braves fell; 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 43 
 
 Upheld it 'mid hardships and dangers and fears, 
 'Mid heartaches and agonies, sorrows and tears ; 
 Baptised it in blood of their bravest and best, 
 And bravely stood by it through every stern test. 
 Resolved that the Flag should continue to wave 
 O'er the land of the Free and the home of the Brave. 
 And thus with new honor they honored its name, 
 And crowned its bright folds with new glory and fame. 
 
 Hence, when at the last all their fighting was done. 
 
 And they hailed, with delight, a proud victory won, 
 
 The Flag floated over one people once more. 
 
 Each star in its place as it had been before. 
 
 While it spoke for the Union and Freedom and Right, 
 
 Proclaiming these words, of good cheer and delight: 
 
 "That citizens all, whatsoever their station. 
 
 Must have Freedom secured through the laws of the Nation 
 
 And that all must enjoy, by the Nation's command. 
 
 Equal rights and protection throughout the whole land." 
 
 Thus crowned with new glory and honor and fame, 
 Baptised with new blood — the best of our name — 
 And then recommissioned to wave o'er the van 
 Of the hosts waging war for all just rights of man, 
 And to cheer on the many and make them more strong 
 In defending the Right and attacking the Wrong. 
 Our Flag both deserved and received as its due 
 The name of "Old Glory" from patriots true — 
 Men who'd bravely upheld it through four bloody years. 
 Had borne it to victory 'mid loudest of cheers. 
 And had won it fresh glory by deeds true and brave 
 While fighting the life of the Nation to save. 
 
 Thus they named it "Old Glory" — name truly sublime 
 
 Among the proud names in the annals of time. 
 
 Because, born aloft in the thick of the fight. 
 
 It had filled their brave hearts with new courage and might. 
 
 And had helped them to conquer a victory grand 
 
 For Freedom and Right and their own native land. 
 
 And they'd thus come to love it with love deep and pure, 
 
 ^hich, sealed with their blood, would forever endure ; 
 
 And because it waved prouder a proud Nation o'er. 
 
 And deserved higher honor than ever before. 
 
 And because they all knew, by its new consecration. 
 
 It stood firmer than ever for Right and the Nation, 
 
 For Freedom and Justice and all it stood for 
 
 During all our past life, both in peace and in war. 
 
44 WAR VERSE 
 
 So today we salute it, with pride and delight, 
 
 As "Old Glory" — the Flag of the Union and Right — 
 
 Feeling sure it will ever float over our land 
 
 While our people for Freedom and Justice shall stand, 
 
 And that new generations will hail it with cheer. 
 
 Will gaze on its folds with love deep and sincere. 
 
 And will read, with delight, every line of the story 
 
 Why it came to be called by the name of "Old Glory." 
 
 And as we salute it, we pray it may wave 
 
 "O'er this land of the Free and this home of the Brave," 
 
 Through all coming years, while the best we can give 
 
 We pledge to it freely as long as we live : 
 
 "Our lives" to uphold and its honor sustain, 
 
 "Our fortunes" its glory and fame to maintain. 
 
 And "our honor most sacred" that thus it may be 
 
 Kept floating forever — the Flag of the Free. 
 
 [In support of the principles, laid down in our "Declaration of 
 Independence," our forefathers said : "We pledge our lives, our 
 fortunes and our sacred honor."] 
 
 OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 Our country — the land of the brave and the free ! 
 
 We crown thee with honors — the richest there be — 
 
 And thy praises we sing with a loyal delight 
 
 While thou standest for Union, and Freedom, and Right. 
 
 We hail thee as first of all nations to claim 
 That all men are equal — created the same 
 In the right to their life and their liberty, too, 
 And the seeking of happiness, justly their due. 
 
 Thy government, free, must forever endure. 
 
 For 'tis built on these rights, which are sacred and ?ure 
 
 And derives all the powers it can justly demand 
 
 From consent of the governed whose will rules the land. 
 
 We know how our Fathers, through struggle and pain, 
 Poured out their blood freely thy Freedom to gain, 
 And what strong opposition their valor o'ercame 
 To make thee a Nation and give thee a name. 
 
 We know, furthermore, all the sacrifice made. 
 All the hardships endured, all the lives freely laid 
 On thine altar that thou might'st continue to be 
 One united Republic — the land of the Free. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 45 
 
 In the on-march of Nations thou leadest the van, 
 The first in demanding all just rights for man 
 And claiming that these rights must evermore be 
 To all guaranteed by the Nation's decree. 
 
 Thou know'st, in thy borders, no rank or proud state, 
 No poor men or wealthy, no humble or great, 
 But all thy protection can equally share 
 And all look to thee for a guardian's care. 
 
 For these things v^^e love thee, O ! land of the Free ; 
 For these things we offer high honors to thee, 
 And with each passing year we will love thee the more. 
 And give higher honors than ever before. 
 
 Tliy name we are proud of, thy Flag we revere 
 And call it "Old Glory" — our Flag ever dear — 
 While we pray it may ever continue to wave. 
 The Flag of the loyal, the true and the brave. 
 
 May the God of all Nations forever abide. 
 C!o<;e by thee, as counselor, helper and guide. 
 And thy people, united, with firmness and might 
 Stand ever for Union, and Freedom, and Right. 
 
 Thus aided by God, with thy people all true 
 
 To the highest ideals man can have in view. 
 
 May thy future shine brighter — thy name dearer grow 
 
 In the hearts of thy people as years come and go. 
 
 JOLIET'S GREETING 
 
 To Our 
 CIVIL WAR HEROES. 
 
 The Forty-Fifth Annual Encampment of the Department of Illinois, 
 Grand Army of the Republic, was held in Joliet, June 13, 14 and 15, 1911— 
 
 All hail ! Ye heroes brave 
 Who fought our land to save 
 
 To Freedom. Truth and Right! 
 Glad voices we upraise 
 To honor you with praise 
 For work mid War's sad days. 
 
 Done with your loyal might. 
 
46 WAR VERSE 
 
 We know how well you fought, 
 What deeds of valor wrought 
 
 On both the land and sea. 
 We know the courage true 
 That brought "Old Glory" through 
 Four years of Hell for you — 
 
 And made our Nation free. 
 
 It is with deep regret 
 We recognize a debt 
 
 We owe you, but can't pay. 
 Your years of toil and pain, 
 Daring on battle's plain, 
 And blood shed for our gain 
 
 Make us in debt alway. 
 
 We give you welcome true — 
 With honor that's your due — 
 
 To the best we have to give. 
 May blessings rich be yours 
 As long as need endures 
 And what for you secures 
 
 All good while you may live. 
 
 THE RE-UNIONS 
 OF OUR 
 CIVIL WAR VETERANS. 
 
 [At the State Encampment of the Department of Illinois, Grand Army 
 of the Republic, held at Joliet in June, 1911, some one suggested that it 
 would be well for the Veterans of our Civil War to hold no more Re- 
 unions because of the fact, that these Veterans are getting so few in num- 
 ber, so old and so feeble. This suggestion has called forth the following 
 bit of verse.] 
 
 Hold no more Re-unions? We soldiers who fought 
 
 For our Nation and Flag, for the Union and Right ? 
 No more meet together as comrades who wrought 
 
 For the cause they loved best with a valorous might ? 
 No ! Perish the thought ! That man little knew 
 
 Of the true soldier heart who suggested that we, 
 Because we are old and are feeble and few, 
 
 Should declare our Re-unions must nevermore be. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 47 
 
 We "old soldiers" remember the dangers we dared 
 
 And the battles we fought during War's bloody day ; 
 We remember the suff'rings and trials we shared 
 
 And the comrades who fell in the thick of the fray ; 
 We recall the long march in the mud and the rain, 
 
 The bivouac at night on the cold, frozen ground, 
 The hunger endured, and the heart-ache, the pain 
 
 And the hardships severe that we everywhere found. 
 
 No gallant, true soldier can ever forget 
 
 The comrade who marched, as he marched, day by day, 
 Who grew weary, as he grew, and faint, but who yet 
 
 Refused to give up or "fall out" by the way ; 
 Who shared a like camp-life, slept 'neath a like tent. 
 
 Faced similar dangers both seen and unseen, 
 Endured the like hardships that none could prevent 
 
 And "drank" with delight, "from the same canteen." 
 
 'Tis this common experience we soldiers have known 
 
 That first bound us in comradeship loyal and true, 
 And more loyal and true has this comradeship grown 
 
 Each year since the time we discarded "The Blue." 
 And so 'twill go on as the years come and go, 
 
 Working change after change under Time's stern decree, 
 This loyal, true comradeship firmer will grow 
 
 No matter how old or how few we may be. 
 
 It is true we are aged and feeble and few, 
 
 Our faces are wrinkled, our hair turned to grey. 
 Our eye-sight is dimmed and the strength we once knew 
 
 Has passed from us largely forever away ; 
 But never before have we needed so much. 
 
 Or joyed in so truly or held quite so dear 
 The loyal and faithful companionship such 
 
 .\s we find when our long-trusted comrades are near. 
 
 Hence, as we remember the days of the past 
 
 And those who shared with us their hardships and fears, 
 We take a delight, that will evermore last. 
 
 In meeting together 'mid life's closing years. 
 The kind look of the eye and warm grip of the hand 
 
 Wake heart-throbs of friendship all others above. 
 While recounting war scenes, which but we understand, 
 
 Draws us closer together in brotherly love. 
 
 And so we'll continue as comrades to meet 
 
 In Post-room and often by Regiments small, 
 
 While at Camp-fires and District Re-unions we'll greet 
 Each other when gathered at Comradeship's call. 
 
48 WAR VERSE 
 
 But chiefest of all — both delightful and great — 
 
 We'll hold our Encampments where all may appear 
 
 From out the whole Nation or else from each State 
 
 And comrades meet comrades with hearty good cheer. 
 
 Moreover, we'll meet when we hear the glad call 
 
 Of the Daughters of Vet'rans, the W. R. C, 
 The Grand Army Ladies, and aids one and all 
 
 Such as Veterans' Sons or whoever they be. 
 For we're proud of them all and give them our praise 
 
 For the aid they have tendered, the love they've expressed 
 And the kindness they've shown which have smoothed the rough 
 ways 
 
 And helped make our last days so happy and blest. 
 
 Our numbers, we know, have grown less since the time 
 
 V\nicn hero faced hero in fiercest of fight, 
 And when, with a courage and daring sublime, 
 
 Each stood for the cause he believed to be right. 
 Hence our millions are counted by thousands today — 
 
 — 'Ere long 'twill be hundreds, then tens and then none — 
 For rapidly now we are passing away 
 
 And soon our last comrade's earth-work will be done. 
 
 But, when only one is left in the land 
 
 He will hang out "Old Glory" some days he holds dear 
 And will summon his comrades by silent comm.and, 
 
 And in spirit they'll come though to sight not appear, 
 And at these Re-unions he'll feel at his side 
 
 The presence of comrades he once knew so well. 
 And again hear their voices ring out with just pride 
 
 As the tales of their war-life they hasten to tell. 
 
 And though kept, by old age, in his home all alone, 
 
 His thoughts will go over the war-scenes of old. 
 And he'll live with his comrades o'er days that are gone, 
 
 And he'll share with delight in the tales that are told. 
 For, lost to the present, he'll know but the past 
 
 And he'll think of these comrades as living again, 
 And, though these Re-unions but moments may last, 
 
 They will bring him a joy that will ever remain. 
 
 And so these Re-unions will ever be held 
 
 So long as one comrade is left on the earth, 
 
 And we'll share in their pleasures though even compelled 
 To hide aches and pains by the feigning of mirth. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 49 
 
 And when at the last we all gather around 
 
 The Camp-fire on Heaven's all beautiful shore, 
 
 We'll hold a Re-union 'mid joys most profound, 
 
 And, once gathered there, we will part nevermore. 
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 
 
 How can we speak the worth 
 
 Of such a man as he. 
 Whose noble life wrought good on earth 
 
 For all humanity. 
 
 How can we voice the fame 
 
 Which he so justly won, 
 How honor, as we ought, the name 
 
 He made by deeds well done ? 
 
 His was the task to stand 
 
 And guide the Ship of State 
 
 Through years of war that rent the land 
 And made hearts desolate. 
 
 Ruling a Nation Great, 
 
 He ruled that there might be 
 
 A people free and consecrate 
 To Right and Liberty. 
 
 Armies of valorous might, 
 
 Under his ruling hand. 
 For Union, Liberty and Right 
 
 Achieved a victory grand. 
 
 With patriotic zeal. 
 
 At Duty's stern behest. 
 He labored for the Nation's weal 
 
 And ever did his best. 
 
 Whatever was the call, 
 
 Forgetful of himself. 
 He gave his mind, his heart, his all 
 
 To aid the Commonwealth. 
 
 He stood for Right alway 
 Because he felt assured 
 That only when the Right holds away 
 Is human good secured. 
 
 A patriot through and through, 
 
 Scorning all selfish pride. 
 With honest heart and purpose true 
 
 He lived and wrought and died. 
 
so WAR VERSE 
 
 We know those trying days 
 
 When, acting true his part, 
 
 He did those deeds which win the praise 
 Of every patriot heart. 
 
 Great man ! A people free 
 
 Honor thy name today, 
 And to thy hallowed memory 
 A grateful tribute pay. 
 
 STORY TOLD BY A SOLDIER'S WIFE. 
 
 John went to the army in late sixty-one 
 
 When duty led many to go, 
 Leaving me with the children to live all alone, 
 
 With a sorrow no mortal can know. 
 I kissed him good-bye with a heart full of pain 
 
 And saw him go marching away, 
 While I thought that I never would see him again, 
 
 But must live sad and lonely alway. 
 
 We'd been married six years — the happiest years 
 
 Two mortals had ever yet known ; 
 We had shared in life's joys and also its tears 
 
 While our hearts all the closer had grown. 
 Two children had come with their sweetness and love, 
 
 And the message they brought was so dear 
 That we thought them commissioned by Heaven above 
 
 To comfort our hearts and to cheer. 
 
 One evening v;e sat by ourselves all alone — 
 
 The children we'd just put to bed — 
 When John in a quiet, deliberate tone, 
 
 With his hand holding mine, gently said: 
 "I believe I'll enlist and go to the war. 
 
 If you think that I'd better, my dear, 
 The boys are enlisting from near and from far, 
 
 And I hate to stay here in the rear." 
 
 These words like an arrow went straight to my heart 
 
 And my eyes filled with hot, burning tears. 
 And I sobbed with a grief I thought ne'er could depart. 
 
 But would stay with me all coming years. 
 I'd surmised John was thinking of going, for then 
 
 War-talk was profuse everywhere. 
 And the army, he'd said, greatly needed more men 
 
 To fill up its ranks here and there. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 51 
 
 Moreover, the papers he carefully read 
 
 At morning, at noon and at night, 
 Most carefully noting whatever they said 
 
 Of march, or of skirmish, or fight. 
 Besides in the evening he'd sit silently 
 
 And sigh now and then a bit queer. 
 But his speaking out thus and appealing to me 
 
 O'erwhelmed me with anguish and fear. 
 
 But soon I had managed to master my grief 
 
 And my tears had wiped mostly away, 
 And I felt for a moment a sort of relief 
 
 While I mustered up courage to say : 
 "Yes, John, if you think it your duty to go, 
 
 Perhaps it is best that you should. 
 For the country needs men as I very well know 
 
 And you can do your share of good. 
 
 "I think I can care for the children and home, 
 
 And, in some way, can manage the farm 
 Until the War's over and then you will come 
 
 Back to us, if suflf'ring no harm. 
 But if something should happen and you nevermore 
 
 Come back !" This thought once again 
 Set me sobbing— for who knows how terribly sore 
 
 And bitter my sorrow and pain. 
 
 I did love my country and felt justly proud 
 
 That John was so ready to give 
 His service or life to help banish War's cloud 
 
 And make certain the Nation would live. 
 But, O ! the sad thought that I nevermore 
 
 Should see him on this earth again 
 Filled my heart with an agony ne'er known before 
 
 And pierced it with crudest pain. 
 
 So John went away to the war and thus left 
 
 The children and me all alone. 
 While with sorrowing heart and of hope all bereft 
 
 I went at the work to be done. 
 I followed the harrow or plow day by day. 
 
 Did the chores both at morn and at night, 
 Helped at gath'ring the crops and, in this or that way, 
 
 Did whatever work came to my sight. 
 
 John wrote to me often and told of his life. 
 
 Of the march, of the camp, or the guard. 
 Of the picket, the skirmish, or terrible strife 
 
 Where the fighting was desp'rate and hard. 
 He told of his love for the children and me. 
 
 How he missed us by day and by night. 
 And I read every word, that he wrote, silently 
 
 While the reading brought much of delight. 
 
52 WAR VERSE 
 
 And I wrote to John twice a week if I could, 
 
 Telling all about things here and there 
 That I thought would be cheering to him, or do good, 
 
 Or help him his burdens ot bear. 
 My life was most sad and a keen, bitter pain 
 
 Filled ever my innermost heart, 
 But, in writing to John, I wrote in a strain 
 
 That I thought only joy could impart. 
 
 Thus time sped along for a full year or more 
 
 And then on one bright Autumn day 
 I read these brief words which a sad message bore : 
 
 "John is sick. Hasten here right away !" 
 This message, so cruel, unnerved me at first 
 
 And numbed every sense, and held fast, 
 And I sat as one dazed unable to burst 
 
 The spell that was over me cast. 
 
 But when I had gathered my senses at length, 
 
 And my thought could once more clearly run, 
 I called to my aid all my courage and strength 
 
 In planning what was to be done. 
 I must go to John ! — That I felt to be true, 
 
 But how could I manage to go ? 
 Who'd care for the children and see carried through 
 
 The farm work — I sure did not know. 
 
 But neighbors came forward with help full and free 
 
 When once they had learned my sad plight, 
 One would care for the children and others would see 
 
 That the farm-v/ork was managed all right. 
 So I hastened to John, but found him so weak 
 
 That the doctors all thought he would die. 
 And, as I looked at him, unable to speak, 
 
 I could only wail out a sad cry. 
 
 Poor John did not know me. I called him by name, 
 
 I spoke of the children and all, 
 I told him how promptly and quickly I came 
 
 When once I received the sad call. 
 But all would not do. My efforts were vain. 
 
 Though I talked I could get no reply. 
 While he tossed and he groaned as in sorest of pain 
 
 And I thought he would certainly die. 
 
 So I waited in sorrow and watched by his side 
 
 For many a long, weary day, 
 While sometimes with sorrow and anguish I cried 
 
 And sometimes I kneeled down to pray. 
 But a change came at last. The fever was broke, 
 
 And then he slept quiet and well, 
 While I sat there for hours and scarcely once spoke, 
 
 Weighed down by Anxiety's spell. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 53 
 
 But early one morning there came a surprise ! 
 
 When his pillow I sought to replace 
 He drew a long breath and then opened his eyes. 
 
 Looking up at me straight in the face. 
 He seemed very much dazed — too bewildered to know 
 
 Anything of the present or past, 
 But I called him by name in a voice soft and low 
 
 And that served to arouse him at last. 
 
 He smiled just a trifle at hearing me speak, 
 
 Then closed his lips firm as could be, 
 But after a while said, in voice very weak : 
 
 ''Was somebody calling for me ?" 
 Then I spoke once again and I saw that he knew 
 
 And seemed happy at sound of each word. 
 And I talked just a little with words short and few, 
 
 Telling briefly of what had occurred. 
 
 And I was as happy as mortal can be ! 
 
 Too happy for mortal to tell 
 When the doctor that evening came over to me 
 
 And said : "John is going to get well." 
 How bright after that were the hours of each day ! 
 
 How bright seemed the days yet to come ! 
 With joy to each duty I hastened away 
 
 Till John was in shape to go home. 
 
 How joyful that journey as homeward we went ! 
 
 How swift passed the night and the days ! 
 And when we reached home what a blessed content 
 
 Filled my heart and attuned it to praise ! 
 And John was so happy that here he could rest, 
 
 From the hardship and danger set free. 
 Sharing richest of love in his own "home-nest" 
 
 With the children about him, and me. 
 
 For two happy months he was with us, and then. 
 
 As hearty and strong he had grown. 
 He had to go back to the army again 
 
 Whose call sounded loud for its own. 
 That parting ! I thought that the parting before 
 
 Was bitter as bitter could be. 
 But this was more bitter and brought with it more 
 
 Of heart-pain and sorrow to me. 
 
 But, as at the first, I tried to brace up, 
 
 (Though I broke down at saying good-bye). 
 And firmly resolved that I'd drink the sad cup 
 
 Though the drinking brought deep agony. 
 So, when John was gone, I did all that I could 
 
 To be cheerful and happy and bright. 
 But always beside me Grief's sad image stood. 
 
 Wrapping life in the blackest of night. 
 
54 WAR VERSE 
 
 One comfort I had that helped very much — 
 
 John's letters were always so bright, 
 Filled with words of deep love and cheerfulness such 
 
 That I wondered how he could thus write. 
 Then the children grew dearer and dearer each day, 
 
 Bringing life much of brightness and cheer, 
 While I knew how John loved them in his loving way 
 
 And that made them even more dear. 
 
 But another sad message was handed to me 
 
 And I read it with sorest dismay : 
 "John is fearfully wounded. The doctor can see 
 
 Little hope for him. Come right away." 
 A bit stronger I'd grown since that first message came 
 
 And so managed somewhat to conceal 
 The terrible torture which no one can name 
 
 But which I was now forced to feel. 
 
 But I soon had things fixed as I had them before 
 
 And had started once more on the way 
 To where I was needed perhaps even more 
 
 Than I had been on that former day. 
 How sad was that ride ! The anguish, the pain, 
 
 The agony filling my heart — 
 These held me their captive and rendered in vain 
 
 All efforts to make them depart. 
 
 John knew me this time and how glad he appeared 
 
 When he saw me near by him once more, 
 And the dark in his life seemed decidedly cleared 
 
 When I kissed him as often before. 
 But how sad was the story I soon heard them tell 
 
 How he'd fallen, shot down in the fight. 
 And had lain on the field where he gallantly fell 
 
 Far into the hours of the night. 
 
 And how to the hospital finally brought. 
 
 One leg was cut off at the knee, 
 While the other, from some rebel ball it had caught, 
 
 Had a flesh wound most frightful to see. 
 They told me the doctors thought first he would die. 
 
 But he'd shown so much courage and vim 
 That they now thought he'd live if watched carefully 
 
 And the very best care given him. 
 
 I felt badly, of course, at the wounds that John had, 
 
 But to know that they thought he would live 
 Seemed to banish all sadness and made my heart glad 
 
 With a gladness naught other could give. 
 And so very happy I went there and here, 
 
 Doing duty and caring for John, 
 Feeling little of worry and little of fear 
 
 As the moments and days hurried on. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 55 
 
 And John was so thoughtful and never complained, 
 
 But was happy at all times and kind, 
 While his wounds improved daily and daily he gained 
 
 In health of both body and mind. 
 So in a few weeks the good season had come 
 
 When he could be up and around, 
 And soon we began our glad journey toward home 
 
 With hearts filled with joy most profound. 
 
 At home I Yes, at home and the children to greet, 
 
 And all the dear things that were there ! 
 Can any one doubt that our joy was complete, 
 
 Unmingled with worry or care ? 
 And John was so happy, and happy was I, 
 
 While the children partook of our joy, 
 And it seemed that our bliss as each day hurried by 
 
 Had in it no grain of alloy. 
 
 Forty years have gone by since that home-coming day, 
 
 And our faces are wrinkled and wan, 
 Our steps have grown feeble, our hair turned to grey, 
 
 But our joys have gone steadily on. 
 With his one wooden leg John can yet get around. 
 
 And we are happier than ever today, 
 While we feel that our lives have been blissfully crowned 
 
 With richest of blessings alway. 
 
 True, the years of the War were most hard, cruel years, 
 
 And we both suffered much as they passed. 
 But we've gathered a joy from our suff'ring and tears — 
 
 A joy that we'll share to the last. 
 I am proud of John's record. Both are proud we can say 
 
 That through sufif'ring and grief we could give 
 A little of aid in War's terrible fray 
 
 That our Nation might evermore live. 
 
 Yes, the War called for men — and for sacrifice, too, 
 
 On the part of men, women and all. 
 And how bravely the millions stood ready to do 
 
 What they could at their Country's loud call. 
 It cost many lives, much of heart-ache and pain, 
 
 And woe such as few ever bore. 
 But 'twas worth all it cost, for it fixed to remain 
 
 "One Country and Flag" evermore. 
 
 THE MOTHER'S SOLDIER BOY. 
 
 Yes. we just called him Tommy — for Thomas, you know, 
 
 Seemed to take him so far, far away, 
 While Tommy just brought him close to us, and so 
 
 We called him plain Tommy alway. 
 
56 WAR VERSE 
 
 But to tell the full story you ask me to tell — 
 
 How his life in the army began, 
 And how he did duty and finally fell, 
 
 I really don't feel that I can. 
 
 The story is sad — yes, a sad one for me, 
 
 His mother who loved him so true, 
 While recounting it brings me a fresh misery 
 
 And opens those old wounds anew. 
 You remember him well as a bright, happy boy. 
 
 The one only boy that we had. 
 And what a vast measure of comfort and joy 
 
 He brought us that made our hearts glad. 
 
 He was only sixteen — but the war-cry was loud, 
 
 And the country was calling for men ; 
 His young friends were enlisting and he was too proud 
 
 To remain in the background just then. 
 So he begged of us daily to give our consent 
 
 That hp might enlist with the rest, 
 And his words were so forceful at last we unbent 
 
 And said : "Yes — that perhaps it is best." 
 
 His father and I reasoned matters this way : 
 
 We'd been praying for many a year 
 That some time, in our land, there would come a bright day 
 
 When slavery would all disappear. 
 We believed that the war would wipe slavery out. 
 
 And then shame would cover our face, 
 If the loud call to crush it we'd met but to scout 
 
 And had sent only prayers in help's place. 
 
 We believed that sometimes act is better than word. 
 
 That doing counts more than mere prayer, 
 That sacrifice real is to be much preferred 
 
 To the loudest of talk here and there. 
 So we gave our consent that Tommy might go 
 
 To the Army and do what he could 
 To help on the cause that we all valued so 
 
 And for which all the loyal host stood. 
 
 But the parting ! How terribly bitter and sad 
 
 To kiss him good-bye with the fear 
 That perhaps nevermore would he make my heart glad 
 
 By his presence so loved and so dear ! 
 I was proud of my boy — justly proud that he thought 
 
 Enough of his country to go. 
 But the anguish I felt and the bitterness wrought 
 
 By his going no mortal can know. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 57 
 
 I had nursed him, bestowed on him motherly care, 
 
 Watched o'er him through childhood's frail day, 
 Given love such as mothers alone have to spare 
 
 And to give to their children alway. 
 And I know he loved me with love fully as true 
 
 As a child to a parent can give — 
 And to part with him thus I How could I go through 
 My duties — or how ever live. 
 
 But the parting day came and the last kiss was given 
 
 While holding him close to my heart. 
 And, with final good-bye, I prayed a kind Heaven 
 
 To keep him from all ills apart. 
 Then he and his comrades marched slowly away 
 
 And soon they were lost to my sight. 
 While my eyes filled with tears and the brightness of day 
 
 Seemed obscured by the darkness of night. 
 
 Then homeward we went ! But how drear was that home ! 
 
 The air filled with sadness and grief, 
 And it seemed for some days the time never would come 
 
 That would bring to us any relief. 
 But Time is the healer of every sore wound, 
 
 Some cheer brings to every sad heart. 
 And so, as the weeks and the months slipped around, 
 
 We felt some of the darkness depart. 
 
 We filled up the time with the cares of each day 
 
 And the duties that came to our hand, 
 While we read all the news, in the most eager way, 
 
 Of the war in all parts of the land. 
 Tommy wrote to us often and told us what share 
 
 Of hard duties he had to perform, 
 Of the hardships, the trials, the march here and there. 
 
 Made either in sunshine or storm. 
 
 He told of the picket, the skirmish, the fight 
 
 Where battle was cruelly waged, 
 Where two opposite forces, with valorous might, 
 
 For "the cause each loved best" were engaged. 
 And we read all he wrote with the greatest of care, 
 
 For to us it had richest of charm. 
 While we sighed at the hardships that he had to bear 
 
 And rejoiced that he'd suffered no harm. 
 
 But one morning there came a sad message which said 
 
 That "Tommy was wounded and we 
 Should hasten unto him. Though naught was to dread. 
 
 He was constantly calling for me." 
 
58 WAR VERSE 
 
 As I took in this message I lost my control. 
 
 Felt dizzy and thought I would fall, 
 For I feared that it told but a part of the whole — 
 
 To lessen the shock to us all. 
 
 I was too dazed to speak or even to cry, 
 
 But could only keep walking and moan, 
 While the pain in my heart and the sore agony 
 
 Were such as I never had known. 
 But I came to myself as the moments sped by, 
 
 And then the tears flowed full and free, 
 While the darkest of clouds served to blacken my sky 
 
 With no "silvery lining" for me. 
 
 But I heard Tommy calling — and soon I prepared 
 
 To go at his call right away, 
 While hoping and praying his life might be spared 
 
 At least till I reached where he lay. 
 And soon I was there, though the journey was sad, 
 
 While the tears came again and again, 
 But when I had reached him we both felt so glad 
 
 We forgot all our sorrow and pain. 
 
 As I looked at him there— the very same boy 
 
 I had bade such a solemn good-bye 
 Only twelve months before — I was filled with such joy 
 
 That all I could do was to cry. 
 But I kissed him and kissed him while holding his hand 
 
 As if trying my gladness to prove, 
 While I seemed to hear nothing but one sweet command 
 
 To show him how deep was my love. 
 
 His wound was a flesh wound I quickly found out. 
 Not dang'rous the doctors all said. 
 
 While they told me he soon would be up and about. 
 If kept quiet awhile in his bed. 
 
 So I watched him and nursed him, delighted to know- 
 More delighted than mortal can tell — 
 
 That his wound was fast healing and soon he could go 
 Back home where he'd quickly get well. 
 
 So after a month we had started away 
 
 For the home that we both held so dear. 
 While a radiant gladness illumined our way 
 
 And filled both our hearts with good cheer. 
 And that home-going journey ! How happy the ride 
 
 As onward and onward we went, 
 With Tommy so glad sitting close by my side. 
 
 While I felt most fully content. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 59 
 
 And when we reached home ! — that ever-dear spot ! 
 
 It seemed I'd not seen it for years ! 
 And on reaching the house I found I could not 
 
 Keep my eyes from o'erflowing with tears. 
 Then that happy re-union ! With Tommy so glad 
 
 And his father so filled with delight. 
 And his fond-loving sisters both acting "like mad" 
 
 When Tommy came into their sight. 
 
 And, with all of our joy, I was happy to see 
 
 How Tommy would go here and there, 
 Viewing this or that object whate'er it might be 
 
 With a pleasure exceedingly rare. 
 He appeared so delighted to be at his home, 
 
 Freed alike from War's hardship and fear, 
 While he acted as though every object had come 
 
 To be specially pleasing and dear. 
 
 So time rolled along and three months passed away 
 
 When our hearts once again were made sore, 
 For Tommy was well and without more delay 
 
 Must go to the Army once more. 
 So we said our good-bye, but how sore was my heart, 
 
 How bitter my anguish and pain 
 Wlien I gave the last kiss and saw him depart 
 
 To his post in the Army again. 
 
 His father loved Tommy most deeply and true, 
 
 And the sisters — they both loved him too. 
 And I — well, you know, there are few — very few 
 
 That can love as a mother can do. 
 And Tommy besides, was our one only boy, 
 
 And I loved him so fondly and well, 
 While his presence brought to me such fullness of joy 
 
 That my grief when he went none can tell. 
 
 But when he was gone we lived on in our way. 
 
 Doing ever the best that we could, 
 But our hearts knew a sadness for day after day. 
 
 That is only by few understood. 
 Tommy's letters helped out and brought us some cheer. 
 
 While the work that we all had to do 
 Sometimes turned our hearts from the somber and drear 
 
 And helped us the weary days through. 
 
 But after some months lived 'midst hoping and fear 
 
 A message came to us one night, 
 Saying : "Tommy is wounded again — most severe — 
 
 Shot down in the midst of a fight." 
 
60 WAR VERSE 
 
 I can't tell how I felt when the message was read. 
 
 But my life seemed crushed suddenly out, 
 And I reeled to a seat while the brain in my head 
 
 Seemed whirling, bewildered, about. 
 
 But when I'd recovered myself we soon planned 
 
 To start for the front right away, 
 For we knew of a husband and wife near at hand 
 
 Who'd come into our house and here stay. 
 What a terrible ride, filled with gloom and despair. 
 
 With aching of heart and of mind. 
 With only a faint ray of light here or there 
 
 To waken a thought bright or kind. 
 
 But when we arrived at our sad journey's end 
 
 We heard what we feared we might hear, 
 That Tommy was dead — died with never a friend 
 
 Or loving one anywhere near. 
 They told us his story : "Our forces, quite strong, 
 
 Started out on a charge to be made, 
 And Tommy was shot while moving along 
 
 On the skirmish line with his Brigade. 
 
 "He was quickly picked up and borne back to the rear, 
 
 His wounds dressed with little delay, 
 But soon he was sent to the hospital here 
 
 Though 'twas thought he would die on the way. 
 He lay here two days all unconscious and weak 
 
 While we faithfully watched by his side. 
 Then, not knowing a thing and unable to speak, 
 
 He quietly, peacefully died." 
 
 His father and I heard this sad story told 
 
 And our hearts bled as never before. 
 While I felt all the blood in my veins growing cold 
 
 And my pulse scarcely beat any more. 
 We went to the bed where his form calmly lay, 
 
 And looked at his face cold and white, 
 But it seemed, as I stood there, the light of the day 
 
 Was changed to the blackness of night. 
 
 But, grieved as we were, there was work to go through, 
 
 Some action we now had to take, 
 And, though weighed down with heaviest sorrow, we knei 
 
 That the journey back home we must make. 
 And soon things were ready — the body prepared — 
 
 And we were fast hurrying away 
 To the home loved so dearly and where we had shared 
 
 Love's bounties for many a day. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 61 
 
 And I thought it all over while speeding along — 
 
 How happy our home-life had been, 
 With brightest of hopes, and with laughter and song, 
 
 And with love ever reigning within. 
 But now what a change we would find to be there ! 
 
 Deep darkness instead of the light, 
 Our joys rudely banished by cruel despair 
 
 And day by the blackness of night. 
 
 But we reached home at last and then laid in the grave 
 
 The remains of our loved one and dear. 
 And, though we all tried to bear up and be brave, 
 
 We found little to comfort or cheer. 
 "Our Tommy was gone ! Never more should we see 
 
 His presence among us again" 
 Came with a most crushing oppression to me 
 
 And my heart pierced with crudest pain. 
 
 We are glad, we were willing — sufficiently strong 
 
 In our love for the Union and Right 
 To do all that we could do to help things along 
 
 In that cruel and desperate fight. 
 We are proud, too, of Tommy and always will be — 
 
 We are proud of the record he made, 
 Justly proud that he went to the Army where he 
 
 So much valor and courage displayed. 
 
 But all this does not lessen the ache and the pain 
 
 That I have in such liberal share. 
 Nor yet does it banish the sad, cruel reign 
 
 Of sorrow I'm called on to bear. 
 And so, while remembering Tommy with pride 
 
 And while glad that he did what he did. 
 There's a grief in my heart that will ever abide 
 
 And a sadness that cannot be hid. 
 
 OUR FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 
 
 [Respectfully dedicated to the surviving members of The One 
 Hundred and Third Ohio Volunteer Infantry.] 
 
 To-day we go back over fifty long years 
 
 And our thoughts note the time when we met 
 On our first camping ground with youth's hopes and youth's fears 
 
 And 'mid scenes we can never forget. 
 
62 WAR VERSE 
 
 We met then as strangers, but were to become 
 
 Friends and comrades in that fearful fight 
 Which was then being waged for this land as our home 
 
 Under Freedom and Union and Right. 
 
 For a full year and more had that fearful fight raged, 
 
 Bringing all its vast army of woes, 
 And we'd changed from the thought which our minds first engaged. 
 
 That in three months we'd witness its close. 
 Hence when we enlisted we thought 'twas to stay 
 
 For the whole or the most of three years, 
 And this thought of long service made sadder the day 
 When we parted from loved ones and started away 
 
 To a life dark with doubts and with fears. 
 
 And today we remember that parting so drear — 
 
 The mother's or wife's fond embrace. 
 The whispered good-bye with the sigh and the tear 
 
 And the deep-saddened look on the face ; 
 The father's last word in that low, broken tone, 
 
 The sister's last tearful adieu. 
 Or the sweet-heart's last kiss with a grief-ladened moan 
 
 And a sorrow that she only knew. 
 
 And we also remember the feeling of pain 
 
 Which pierced and weighed down our own heart 
 When we said our good-byes, fearing never again 
 
 Might we see those from whom called to part. 
 And we further remember how oft in those years 
 
 "At the front" when we prayed peace might come 
 And recalled these good-byes that our eyes filled with tears 
 
 And we sighed for those loved ones at home. 
 
 Yes ! Well we remember those days of the past — 
 
 The camp-life and all that it brought 
 With its numerous ills which we hoped would not last 
 
 But which sadly our discomfort wrought. 
 But we were young then, and youth's buoyant charm 
 
 Led us always when put to the test 
 To make light of all ills that might work for us harm 
 
 And to look, with bright hopes, for the best. 
 
 And well we remember that "muster-in" day 
 
 When we became soldiers indeed 
 And were armed and equipped in the regular way 
 
 To give help in our country's sore need. 
 We remember full well when — a regiment true — 
 
 We stood up on our first dress-parade 
 And tried handling our guns in a way somewhat new 
 
 Which our ignorance sadly displayed. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 63 
 
 We were soldiers then true, but how little we knew 
 
 Of the duties we'd have to perform, 
 Of the picket and guard, or the march long and hard 
 
 Through the heat or the mud or the storm. 
 We knew nothing of skirmish o'er hill or o'er plain, 
 
 Through the grain-fields or woods here and there, 
 Of the battle where Death rules with torture and pain 
 And the bursting of shells and the bullets' fierce rain 
 
 With their hideous noise fill the air. 
 
 We knew not what harships we'd have to pass through, 
 
 What burdens we'd be forced to bear, 
 What suff'rings and trials would come, ever new, 
 
 Or what hunger we'd be called to share. 
 We knew naught of the horror that filled our own heart 
 
 When a battle raged fiercely and wide 
 And some comrade, while gallantly doing his part. 
 
 Was shot and fell dead at our side. 
 
 Yes! Fifty long years have sped hurriedly by 
 
 Since we met to begin our war life. 
 Yet today we recall to our minds vividly 
 
 Many things that we learned 'mid its strife. 
 We clearly recall what we had to endure. 
 
 What of trial and suflFering to bear. 
 What of anguish and heart-ache naught human could cure 
 
 And what dangers none others could share. 
 
 There was camp-life with often its poor, meager fare. 
 
 Where duties came thick evermore. 
 Where we never could tell, though we sought everywhere, ~ 
 
 What the morrow had for us in store. 
 There were picket and guard whose strict duties alway 
 
 All soldiers alike had to meet 
 And discharge in full measure by night or by day. 
 
 Or 'mid sunshine or storm, cold or heat. 
 
 There were long, weary marches in mud or in rain. 
 
 Or beneath the hot rays of the sun, 
 While the night often vanished before we could gain 
 
 The goal where our marching was done. 
 And oft, when the march had been but for the day 
 
 And at evening a camp had been found. 
 We were forced to lie down and to wear night away 
 
 On the damp, or the cold, frozen ground. 
 
 Sometimes our provisions would utterly fail 
 
 Of every description and kind. 
 And then we'd start out on some uncertain trail 
 
 To forage for what we could find. 
 
64 WAR VERSE 
 
 And, if something to eat was picked up on our way, 
 
 We were filled with the greatest delight, 
 But oft we were forced to go hungry all day 
 
 And then remain hungry all night. 
 
 Then came the hard skirmish o'er hill and o'er plain. 
 
 Driving back the brave foe with our might. 
 Or retreating when feeling we could not maintain 
 
 Our position if forced to a fight. 
 Or perhaps some fierce charge v/e were called on to make 
 
 On the strong-guarded line of the foe, 
 Or the foe's well-made "works" we were ordered to take 
 
 Amid dangers no mortal could know. 
 
 And last came the battle where brave met the brave, 
 
 And foe fought with foe but to kill, 
 Where each of the best that he had freely gave — 
 
 Of his strength and his courage and skill — 
 Where men were shot down with a fiendish deliglit. 
 
 And blood was poured out in full stream, 
 Where no law was known but of crudest might 
 
 And Hell reigned in triumph supreme. 
 
 And today v.^e recall all the comrades v/ho fell 
 
 In the battle's fierce strife, or v/ho died 
 From starvation and want in those "prisons of hell" 
 
 With none near but to mock and deride. 
 And the m.any who, v/ounded or sick, passed away 
 
 In our hospitals lone, here and there. 
 With no loved ones present a fond word to say 
 
 Or to soothe with their kindness and care. 
 
 We remember, moreover, the comrades who've gone 
 
 Since the war's fearful struggle was o'er — 
 With their records complete and their life-work all done — 
 
 To that "bright and that beautiful shore." 
 We shall see them no more and no more shall v.-e greet 
 
 Their presence, with all its good cheer, 
 As in happy re-unions we yearly shall meet 
 
 In a comradeship true and sincere. 
 
 Jjut a pride fills our hearts when we think once again 
 
 How these heroes in war's fiercest strife 
 Hver wrought with true valor our cause to maintain 
 
 And for it gave time, strength, or life. 
 We are proud or their record and proud that we know 
 
 How nobly they all did their part, 
 And how promptly they went where'er Duty said "Go" 
 .A.nd how freely they gave all they had to bestow 
 
 With a valiant and true, loyal heart. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 65 
 
 And we know that, though dead, they will evermore speak 
 
 To the patriot hosts yet to come, 
 Urging all for the right and the worthy to seek 
 
 And to keep this land Freedom's proud home. 
 While their loyal example will reach everywhere 
 
 And a grand inspiration will prove 
 To all noble hearts to guard with great care 
 
 This land which we all so much love. 
 
 All these many mem'ries come to us today 
 
 After fifty long years have sped past, 
 And we know they are with us forever to stay 
 
 As long as these earth lives shall last. 
 But, as they come to us, joy flees far away 
 
 And tears in our eyes freely start. 
 While a feeling of sadness asserts fullest sway 
 
 And fills and oppresses each heart. 
 
 Thus m.emory brings both the smile and the tear, 
 
 Deep sorrow as well as great joy. 
 For it calls to our minds what each soldier holds dear 
 
 And what nothing can ever destroy. 
 And, while part that it brings causes heart-ache and pain 
 
 By the facts which we all know so well. 
 Other part cheers the heart with a joyous refrain. 
 
 Bringing pleasure no mortal can tell. 
 
 But, when we once turn from the things which have been 
 
 And come to the present, we see 
 How diff'rent all are from what they were then — 
 
 Changed as if by some wierd mystery. 
 In ever}- department of life here and there 
 
 We find changes we never had guessed, 
 WTiile the change in ourselves, sometimes, we're aware, 
 
 Must sadden the bravest and best. 
 
 We go back fifty years! We were then only boys. 
 
 Filled with vigor and strength and good-cheer, 
 While we pictured a future all crowned with rich joys, 
 
 And with little of worry or fear 
 Xow happy we were ! For that future was bright 
 
 With a}l that could gladden and charm. 
 And we gazed on its brightness with greatest delight 
 Never thinking it held its full portion of night 
 
 And due measure of evil and harm. 
 
66 WAR VERSE 
 
 But now we are feeble and weakly and old. 
 
 Our faces are wrinkled and wan, 
 While our unsteady steps and our ills manifold 
 
 Say our life-strength will soon be all gone. 
 We know that the years, as they've hurried along, 
 
 Have brought us much comfort and cheer, 
 But we see they are ending and we, once so strong, 
 
 Must soon from the earth disappear. 
 
 But, as we look back o'er the record we've made 
 
 And call up our war-life anew, 
 We know we did right when the call we obeyed 
 
 To join "The Grand Army in Blue." 
 And we feel justly proud to know we sustained 
 
 A just cause and helped in the fight. 
 Where Treason was crushed and a victory gained 
 
 For Freedom and Union and Right 
 
 And so while we live — (How long none can tell) 
 
 And our memories these thoughts shall engage, 
 We'll seek to be happy, though oft called to dwell 
 
 On the weakness and pains of old age. 
 And, whether our days yet are many or few, 
 
 We'll be cheered by the thought that we gave 
 Our service to country and thus helped it through 
 A crisis severe and helped make it anew 
 The land of the free, the united and true 
 
 And the home of the loyal and brave. 
 
 THE IDEAL SOLDIER. 
 
 It was late in the Fall of the year "sixty one" 
 
 That he went to the war with the brave 
 And the true Union soldiers, with knapsack and gun 
 
 To help our grand Union to save. 
 How proundly he walked as he hastened away 
 
 From his home and his friends all so dear, 
 And those who beheld him could think of no day 
 
 When he'd know the least feeling of fear. 
 
 He went as a boy, but a boy with a will 
 
 And a noble ambition and high 
 To do his full part to the best of his skill 
 
 Wherever his duty might lie. 
 Of what was before him he gave earnest thought, 
 
 Resolved to be faithful and true, 
 So that all that he did, wheresoever he wrought, 
 
 Should be done just the best that he knew. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 67 
 
 He was one of the many whose loyalty strong 
 
 Led them promptly to join in the fight, 
 To save this great Nation from treason and wrong 
 
 To Freedom and Union and Right. 
 He didn't like war, but duty said "Go," 
 
 And he went at stern Duty's command. 
 Resolved, with his best, to help crush a proud foe 
 
 And win victory for our goodly land. 
 
 He was faithful in camp with its rigorous ways, 
 
 With its ever-continuous round 
 Of duties and cares and monotonous days. 
 
 Which in camp-life so freely are found. 
 But a bright, cheerful look ever shone on his face 
 
 And his words had the tone of good cheer, 
 While, if sadness e'er came, he ne'er gave it a place 
 
 Or hinted 'twas anywhere near. 
 
 Sometimes it was found that the march hard and long, 
 
 At the end, left him weary and worn — 
 That the frame which, when starting, was hardy and strong, 
 
 Had grown weak with the load it had borne. 
 Yet he never complained, but when the end came 
 
 And the troops were in camp for night's rest, 
 He thought of this marching as part of War's game 
 
 And counted it all for the best. 
 
 When stationed on guard and, with slow, measured tread. 
 
 He walked back and forth o'er his beat. 
 With the storm raging wild and the clouds o'er his head 
 
 Charged with wind and with cold, rain and sleet. 
 He did his full duty amid the wild storm. 
 
 Shrank not from its roughness severe. 
 And, though cold and sleet chilled and battered his form, 
 
 He kept up his usual good cheer. 
 
 And when out on picket with comrades most true, 
 
 Stationed near to "the works" of the foe, 
 Whence came rebel bullets which everywhere flew — 
 
 — Around and above and below. 
 Yet here with all thought of real danger forbid 
 
 And prompt with the service he gave. 
 He showed himself faithful in all that he did — 
 
 A soldier both loyal and brave. 
 
 And oft, when engaged in fierce skirmish, "The Gray," 
 
 "The Blue" sought to force to retreat, 
 When the balls flew so thick and so fast that the fray 
 
 Seemed a battle where mighty hosts meet. 
 
08 WAR VERSE 
 
 He faced the foe firmly and had a brave air 
 
 As he marched in the van from the start, 
 And ever was ready to do and to dare, 
 
 Seeking always to bear his full part. 
 
 But chicfest of all was when fierce battle raged, 
 
 And the shot and the shell filled the air, 
 When the bravest of foes in hot strife were engaged 
 
 And to "kill" was the rule everywhere. 
 He then proved his courage, his true, valiant might, 
 
 His daring that none could excel, 
 As he stood in the very fore-front of the fight 
 
 And wrought like some demon from Hell. 
 
 But there came a sad day when most wildly he raved 
 
 From a terrible wound with its pain, 
 Which he got in that battle where freely he braved 
 
 The foe's charges again and again. 
 For while pushing along 'gainst a foe brave and strong 
 
 A fierce ball left him prostrate and low, 
 And he lay where he fell while the shot and the shell 
 
 For hours wrought death, torture and woe. 
 
 At last he was found and was carried away 
 
 To the hospital — there to remain 
 Betwixt life and death for full many a day, 
 
 Knowing little but torturing pain. 
 But at length the time came when his strong healthy frame 
 
 Hung out signals that banished all fear — 
 Then he waked with delight and with mind clear and bright, 
 
 Filling all with fond hope and good cheer. 
 
 But time brought him at last to that glorious day 
 
 When he knew that his war-work was o'er. 
 And he started for home and for friends far away. 
 
 More happy than ever before. 
 He was glad to be free from war's turmoil and strife — 
 
 From its hardships and dangers severe. 
 And be able to look toward a happy peace life 
 
 Amid scenes that he held ever dear. 
 
 And so he went home with a bright, happy heart, 
 And was welcomed by friends he held dear, 
 
 While he felt a just pride that he'd done his full part. 
 With a loyalty true and sincere. 
 
 With his war-life behind and a peace-life before. 
 He took up peace duties again, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE m 
 
 Knowing well, if this country which we all adore, 
 Is worth dying for, then truly the more 
 Is it worth living for and all, with full store 
 Of honesty, zeal and good will evermore, 
 
 Should work for't with might and with main. 
 
 Whoe'er saw him starting upon his new life, 
 
 And thought o'er the record he'd made, 
 While serving his country 'mid danger and strife, 
 
 Would be struck with the things there displayed. 
 There were loyalty, hope and abundant good cheer, 
 
 A duty-sense active and bright, 
 And courage and patience and faith most sincere 
 
 In the cause of the Union and Right. 
 
 Such a man has a right to be happy and proud. 
 
 As he goes on his life-chosen way. 
 And his sky should be bright without rain, storm or cloud 
 
 To shut out the sun's cheering ray. 
 For he has his proud record, and that record shows 
 
 To all who its pages will scan. 
 That when Duty said "Do" he promptly arose. 
 
 And proved himself truly a man. 
 
 We meet with such men, but may give little thought 
 
 As to what they may be or may do, 
 We may speak of them rarely, and count as of naught 
 
 What they say, e'en though worthy and true. 
 But 'tis only such men that can build up a State, 
 
 And in war and in peace can sustain, 
 And make it both strong and substantial and great. 
 
 Where Justice and Right ever reign. 
 
 God bless all such heroes wherever they be. 
 
 And add to their number each day. 
 And give them quick sense and clear vision to see 
 
 The great needs of our country alway — 
 For only with such can our land be secure 
 
 And our freedom remain to the last. 
 And our Government evermore firmly endure, 
 
 The same as in years that are past. 
 
 I AM DREAMING. 
 
 I am dreaming — yes, quietly dreaming 
 
 Of the days that have sped swiftly by — 
 
 Of some when the sunlight was streaming 
 From a clear and an unclouded sky. 
 
70 WAR VERSE 
 
 And of some that were darksome and dreary, 
 With no sunlight to brighten the day, 
 
 When I grew to be foot-sore and weary 
 As I went on my devious way. 
 
 Yes! I'm dreaming, and yet in my dreaming 
 
 Much I know has been dealt out to me, 
 That in it had nothing of seeming 
 
 But was all stern reality. 
 A reality often-times springing 
 
 A hope and a joy to impart, 
 But sometimes with cruel hand bringing 
 
 Deep sorrows and grief to my heart. 
 
 In my dreams I recall with great pleasure 
 
 That home with my child and my wife, 
 Where Love reigned in fullest of measure, 
 
 And crowned with its bounty my life. 
 And I thought I could live on forever, 
 
 In that hallowed and joy-centred spot, 
 While I felt that good Fortune could never 
 
 Improve or make brighter my lot. 
 
 But war came, and I heard the loud calling 
 
 For men to go forth to the fight — 
 To stand in the place of those falling 
 
 In defense of the Union and Right 
 And I went with "the boys" never guessing 
 
 What the future had waiting for me, 
 But having my wife's richest blessing 
 
 With her love and her prayers full and free. 
 
 That home-parting scene! How it lingers 
 
 In memory's loving embrace — 
 A picture that Time's busy fingers 
 
 Can never remove or deface. 
 The sigh and the tears and the sorrow, 
 
 The last kiss and the final good-bye, 
 Seemed to darken each coming to-morrow. 
 
 And to shut out all light from life's sky. 
 
 So I parted from loved ones and went far away 
 
 To fight for the cause I loved best, 
 And there I did duty for day after day 
 
 With a heart sadly sore and oppressed. 
 My wife wrote me often, in love's sweetest strain, 
 
 Of herself and our child — both so dear — 
 And I read every letter again and again. 
 
 And the reading brought much of good cheer. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 71 
 
 My wife did her best to avoid what was sad, 
 
 And to write in a bright, cheerful way, 
 But I noticed full well that her letters all had 
 
 A tone of deep sadness alway. 
 I knew she was worried and troubled for fear 
 
 Some evil might happen to me. 
 So I filled all my letters with words full of cheer, 
 
 To lighten her sad misery. 
 
 But one day a brief message was handed to me, 
 
 Bearing saddest of news — that my wife 
 Was fearfully sick and the doctor could see 
 
 Little hope of preserving her life. 
 That news nearly crushed me! But soon I regained 
 
 A fair sense of the duties to come. 
 And I hastened at once and a furlough obtained, 
 
 And started directly for home. 
 
 How I ever reached home I never could tell. 
 
 With the terrible anguish and pain 
 That oppressed me, while with them anxiety's spell 
 
 Racked my innermost heart and my brain. 
 But I reached home at last, yet only to find 
 
 That my wife could not recognise me — 
 And she died that same night while leaving behind 
 
 Two lives wrapped in sad misery. 
 
 And we laid her at rest with hearts bleeding and sore — 
 
 While my dear little girl of ten years 
 I trusted to friends I had known long before 
 
 And left her with heart-ache and tears. 
 And soon I was back in my place as before 
 
 Where I took up war duties again, 
 Being fully resolved to be true evermore 
 
 In spite of my sorrow and pain. 
 
 And I did my full duty the best that I knew, 
 
 Faced the storm while on picket and guard, 
 Suffered hunger when rations came not that were due, 
 
 Grew weak on the march long and hard, 
 Endured all the suff'rings and hardships that came 
 
 For our soldiers to meet and to bear. 
 And faced all the dangers of War's fearful game 
 
 In the skirmish and fight here and there. 
 
 But, though serving 'mid danger from day after day, 
 
 111 escaped me in every sad form. 
 While many to sickness and wounds fell a prey. 
 
 Or were killed 'mid the battle's fierce storm. 
 
72 WAR VERSE 
 
 I saw all the horrors and sufferings that reign 
 
 Under War's mad and pitiless hand, 
 And I prayed war might cease and never again 
 
 Come to curse and to sadden our land. 
 
 But at last the end came, and our fighting was o'er — 
 
 And we hailed the result with delight. 
 With the Union preserved to endure evermore 
 
 And a victory won for the Right. 
 Then I hastened right home, but only to meet 
 
 Such news that would crush the most brave: 
 The child whom I loved and expected to greet 
 
 Was sleeping Death's sleep in her grave. 
 
 So for all these long years I have lived on alone, 
 
 With a mixture of pleasure and pain. 
 While the hurrying seasons have come and have gone, 
 
 Bringing losses to some — to some gain. 
 But oft I have fancied, when sitting as now 
 
 All alone, I have felt the caress 
 Of one hand, so lovingly fond, on my brow 
 Or one gentle presence near by, seeking how 
 
 It might cheer me and comfort and bless. 
 
 So I'm sitting alone, and I'm dreaming 
 
 Of the time that must very soon come. 
 When cheered by "Heaven's Morning Star's" gleaming, 
 
 I shall go to my last "Happy Home." 
 And I know that my loved ones will meet me. 
 
 With Heaven's rich pleasures elate. 
 And with love of that "Better World" greet me, 
 
 As I pass through "the beautiful gate." 
 
 CxRAND-FATHER. 
 
 I am only a girl, but much talk I have heard 
 
 About "Our Great War" and the fight 
 Which our brave soldiers waged and what great things occurred 
 
 In the struggle for Union and Right. 
 I have sat many times on my grand-father's knee. 
 
 While accounts the most thrilling he gave 
 Of his life in the Army which showed me that he 
 
 Had been a true soldier and brave. 
 
 And I've thought these things over again and again, 
 Until mem'rv has hold of them fast. 
 
AND OTHER VKRSE 73 
 
 And I think they're so fixed that they'll ever remain 
 
 All vivid and fresh to the last. 
 And I love to repeat them, for somehow I feel 
 
 They set forth sonie wonderful facts, 
 About our brave soldiers and clearly reveal 
 
 A few of their brave, daring acts. 
 
 He told how he v/ent to the Army from home — 
 
 Just a boy of scarce fifteen short years — 
 And how when the time for the parting had come. 
 All voices were hushed and all tongues rendered dumb 
 
 By the sorrow, the wailings and tears. 
 His father and mother had said he might go. 
 
 But the parting brought deepest of pain, 
 For they feared he'd be killed in some battle and so 
 They never would see him again. 
 
 He told of the hardships of camp and of guard. 
 
 Of facing the cold and the storm. 
 Of marches, when hungry, which proved very hard 
 
 And which he'd scarce strength to perform. 
 Of picket — of skirmish, o'er hill and o'er field, 
 
 Of the charge on "the works" of the foe. 
 Of the battle where neither side wanted to yield. 
 
 And where Death reigned mid anguish and woe. 
 
 But there's one fearful battle he talked of the most, 
 
 Where Death reigned with power most supreme, 
 Where the many, shot down, formed a vast, mighty host, 
 
 And where blood flowed in one constant stream. 
 And 'twas here, when sore wounded, he lay where he fell 
 
 Far after the close of the day — 
 While the pains that he suffered no mortal can tell — 
 
 Until found and borne kindly av/ay. 
 
 He told how how he lay in the hospital lone 
 
 Through weeks of sore anguish and pain. 
 Nursed only by strangers — with no loving tone 
 
 To comfort, to soothe or sustain. 
 Then he told of the heart-rending wailings and groans 
 
 Of the wounded ones lying near by, 
 And again of the feeble and pitiful moans, 
 Of the many just ready to die. 
 
 He spoke of his capture one day by the foe, 
 
 And of being conveyed far away, 
 And placed in a prison with others and so 
 
 Forced to stay there for many a day. 
 
74 WAR VERSE 
 
 And his sufferings here were beyond all compare — 
 Unhoused, and half clothed and half fed — 
 
 He was treated with cruelty, fiendish and rare 
 Among demons to cruelty bred. 
 
 He was filled with delight when exchanged, and once more 
 
 He was safe with "the boys" whom he knew. 
 And whom he could trust as he had done before. 
 
 As comrades both loyal and true. 
 He was hearty and strong, and performed his full part 
 
 Wherever stern Duty said "Go," 
 Doing all he could do, with a brave, earnest heart, 
 
 To help weaken and conquer the foe. 
 
 But the time came at last when "The Great War" was o'er, 
 
 With a triumph for Union and Right, 
 And he with his comrades — a multitude more — 
 
 Was discharged and came home with delight. 
 'Twas a pleasure to hear him tell of the great joy. 
 
 That filled each and every fond heart 
 Of all the home friends when they knew "the dear boy" 
 Was safe home and would no more depart. 
 
 And when he got married he lived over there. 
 
 And 'twas there his war stories he told, 
 And I fondly listened, till years and life's care 
 
 Had left him decrepit and old. 
 I know he was proud of the things he had done — 
 
 Had a right to be proud, even more. 
 And I shall be proud, although now he is gone. 
 
 Of the part he so gallantly bore. 
 
 Thus I listened, attentive, to what he might say 
 
 About all of these cruel war years. 
 And oft I was forced from the joyous and gay, 
 
 To a state of deep sadness and tears. 
 And I loved him so much that, with no little pride. 
 
 When he told of some brave, daring part 
 He played in the war, I would rush to his side 
 
 With a kiss from a warm, loyal heart. 
 
 And so I was hoping and praying alway 
 
 That "Our Father in Heaven" would spare 
 This hero unto us till life's longest day, 
 
 And would guard him with tenderest care. 
 And that his last days he might know as his best, 
 
 With many kind friends ever near 
 To guard him from worry, from care and unrest, 
 
 And to aid him and comfort and cheer. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 75 
 
 But it was not to be ! Father Time had his claim 
 
 And enforced it in his cruel way, 
 For while I was hoping and praying there came 
 
 That "summons which all must obey." 
 So we bade him good-bye and watched by his side 
 
 Till his body had gone to its rest, 
 And his spirit had passed — where 'twill ever abide — 
 
 To "the home of the happy and blest." 
 
 But though he has gone I can never forget 
 
 The service so loyal and true. 
 Which he gave to his country without a regret, 
 
 While wearing that "Grand Army Blue." 
 And I pray that such heroes may ever abound 
 
 With hearts which will evermore see 
 That "The Right" is upheld and this land remains crowned. 
 
 As the home of the loyal and free. 
 
 OUR DEPARTED COMRADES. 
 
 How many have gone to their home "Over There" 
 
 Of our comrades, the loyal and brave, 
 Who were ready, with courage, to do and to dare, 
 
 In seeking the Union to save. 
 We know they are gathered on "Heaven's Camping Ground," 
 
 With the choicest of bounties in store, 
 Where all that is needed for soul-growth is found 
 And where pleasures unnumbered and richest abound 
 
 To be theirs to enjoy evermore. 
 
 We know what they dared 'mid the fierceness of war, 
 
 How they wrought in that terrible fight. 
 Where, 'mid suff'rings. and dangers, they bravely stood for 
 
 "One Country," "One Flag" and "The Right." 
 Some fell at the front bravely fighting their foes. 
 
 And in hospital some passed away. 
 While many, escaping life's conflicts and woes. 
 Have gone safely "Home" since the War's happy close. 
 
 Brought us peace with its glad, golden day. 
 
 We miss all these heroes who, 'mid war's fierce rage, 
 
 Did their duty so nobly and well. 
 Who faced every danger the foe to engage. 
 
 Through wild hail-storms of shot and of shell. 
 And with each coming year we will miss them the more, 
 
 As in happy re-unions we meet. 
 
76 WAR VERSE 
 
 For we know how their presence brought bounteous store, 
 Of royal good cheer which made evermore 
 These re-unions with joy most replete. 
 
 We'll speak words of praise for these comrades we knew, 
 
 While reviewing their deeds true and brave, 
 And recounting the hardships and dangers passed through 
 
 With the service they cheerfully gave. 
 We know what they did and how bravely they wrought 
 
 In the duties they had to perform, 
 And, with only the good of the Nation in thought, 
 How nobly they labored and gallantly fought, 
 
 'Mid the battle's fierce conflict and storm. 
 
 We shed tears o'er the loss of these comrades so dear, 
 
 And grow sad as we think nevermore 
 Will we greet them again in our journeyings here. 
 
 Or know them as known heretofore. 
 But, though our tears fall and our spirits grow sad. 
 
 We know they're enjoying "the rest," 
 Which brings to them comfort and makes the heart glad 
 With all that is cheerful and bright to be had, 
 
 In "the land of the happy and blest." 
 
 Sometimes, too, we read of the valorous deeds 
 
 Of these comrades who've gone from our side, 
 And, as o'er their records our thought freely speeds. 
 
 Our hearts throb with joy and with pride. 
 But sometimes we read of the loss which befell 
 
 The friends whom they've left here behind, 
 And then comes a grief, with its harrowing spell, 
 Whose anguish and heart-ache no mortal can tell. 
 
 And a sadness that can't be defined. 
 
 We mourn for these comrades, as friend mourns for friend, 
 
 Whose companionship gave us delight. 
 And brightened our lives until came the sad end, 
 
 When by Death they were swept from our sight. 
 But, while we move on with our hearts sad and lone, 
 
 Often wishing them with us once more, 
 We forget now and then both the sigh and the moan 
 While enabled to say with a confident tone : 
 
 "They're not lost, but have just gone before." 
 
 We cover with flowers each sad, hallowed spot, 
 Where the forms of our loved comrades rest, 
 
 With the lily, the rose and the for-get-me-not. 
 All gathered at Love's kind behest. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 77 
 
 And while these fair flowers we lovingly strew, 
 
 With sore hearts and a sorrowing face, 
 We pledge ourselves not to forget them anew, 
 While tears fall from our eyes and gently bedew 
 
 Each hallowed and sad resting place. 
 
 Then often we breathe an importunate prayer 
 
 To the Father of light and of love: 
 That he'll guard these loved comrades with tenderest care, 
 
 In his glorified Kingdom above. 
 But often our prayers are for those who remain : 
 
 That we may, at the last, find a place 
 Where we, with these comrades in Heaven's domain, 
 May enjoy all the blessings of Love's perfect reign, 
 
 And may share in a Father's rich grace. 
 
 And we hope, with a hope that is trusting and strong, 
 
 That when "life's fitful fever is o'er," 
 We may meet once again, 'mid rejoicing and song. 
 
 These comrades who've passed on before. 
 And what a re-union there'll be "Over There" 
 
 When the end of this earth life has come. 
 And we all have assembled forever to share 
 A comradeship loyal beyond all compare. 
 
 And the joys of our Heavenly Home! 
 
 THE WOMAN'S RELIEF CORPS. 
 
 God Mess these women — a noble band — 
 Who by us have stood so long. 
 
 With Charity, ready, of heart and hand, 
 And Loyalty true and strong. 
 
 They have been our helpers in many a way 
 When sickness enforced its reign, 
 
 And by loving ministry, day by day, 
 Have lessened our cruel pain. 
 
 And when som.e feeble comrade has left 
 Earth's home for his home above, 
 
 They have brought a balm to the hearts bereft. 
 With their deeds and words of love. 
 
 In al! of our friendly and kindly work. 
 They have given substantial aid, 
 
 And never were known to falter or shirk, 
 Whenever a call was made. 
 
78 WAR VERSE 
 
 When Charity's sweet-toned voice was heard 
 They needed no other command, 
 
 But sped, with a ready deed or word. 
 To give the assisting hand. 
 
 In all our work for our country's good, 
 Or to add to "Old Glory's" weal, 
 
 They have by our side most bravely stood 
 And labored with loyal zeal. 
 
 By their loving word and their kindly deed, 
 They have grown to our hearts most dear, 
 
 Winning of praise our highest meed, 
 And our friendship most sincere. 
 
 And thus, together, we'll ever move on 
 
 Each true as the other's friend. 
 Till at last, when our earthly day is done. 
 
 We shall reach our journey's end. 
 
 GOING BACK FIFTY YEARS. 
 
 It is just fifty years — yes, fifty long years — 
 
 Since we ended our soldier career. 
 And said our good-bye to war's hardships and fears. 
 
 With our hearts filled with royal good cheer. 
 We had served in the Grand Union Army throughout 
 
 Three years of fierce conflict and strife. 
 And when the war closed with the foe put to rout, 
 We welcomed the time when we, once "mustered out," 
 
 Could again live a quiet, peace life. 
 
 And so, after all these long years have passed by, 
 
 We go back to the day, in our thought, 
 When we were "discharged" and, in fond memory, 
 
 Share again in the joys which it brought. 
 Yes! It was a bright day and our hearts were made glad 
 
 When we knew that our war life was o'er — 
 That we were all freed from the dangers we'd had. 
 From the hardships and suff'rings that made our hearts sad. 
 
 And were safe with our home-friends once more. 
 
 How well we remember that glad, happy day 
 When, with war-trappings all laid aside, 
 
 We left army duties and hastened away 
 
 To our homes with a light, manly stride. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 79 
 
 How great was our pleasure to know we were free, 
 
 To feel that no one's ruling hand 
 Would direct, in the future, our movements, but we 
 Would be our own masters and no more would be 
 
 Bound to serve at some other's command. 
 
 But when to the army we'd bade an adieu, 
 
 And stepped out into free life once more 
 A world, with some changes, appeared to our view. 
 
 With many surprises in store. 
 Many things were so diff'rent from what we had known 
 
 Before going from home-friends away ; 
 Both brothers and sisters had much larger grown, 
 And fathers and mothers, while these sad years had flown, 
 Had become somewhat older, as all had to own, 
 
 With their locks often sprinkled with grey. 
 
 Yes — things, here and there, were a little bit strange 
 
 In the world we were now called to face. 
 And we felt, in adjusting ourselves to the charge, 
 
 That we needed a few weeks of grace. 
 Yet most that we found was quite largely the same 
 
 Whether inside or out of the home. 
 While, warmed by a kinder and holier flame, 
 The love of our home-friends more tenderly came 
 
 Than ever before it had come. 
 
 What a pleasure to see once again "the old home," 
 
 To wander about here and there. 
 To note well-known objects and then freely roam. 
 
 As suited us best, everywhere. 
 While the presence of loved ones brought joy the most rare. 
 
 The kind looks which they gave full and free. 
 The bright, happy smiles witii their welcoming air 
 And their love, rich and tender, beyond all compare, 
 
 Made us happy as mortals can be. 
 
 In the midst of this new life, with home-friends all near. 
 
 And with all the rich pleasures we had, 
 We forgot, for a time, all the years dark and drear 
 
 That made our lives gloomy and sad ; 
 We forgot all the trials, the hardships, the care, 
 
 The bivouac, the march night or day. 
 The many sore duties, the poor, meager fare, 
 The picket, the skirmish, the battle's fierce glare 
 
 Where Death claimed the brave for its prey. 
 
80 WAR VERSE 
 
 The changes were great from grim War's fearful state, 
 
 From the long years of Hell we'd passed through, 
 From the ills round us thrown and the dangers we'd known 
 
 And from hardships that came ever new, 
 To the quiet of peace with friends loving and kind 
 
 Who welcomed us home with delight, 
 And who faithfully labored in seeking to find 
 A something to cheer us and bring to our mind 
 
 What would render our home-coming bright. 
 
 But, with all that was cheering and happy and fair, 
 
 With all that brought so much of gain. 
 There came a sad feeling which all had to share, 
 
 And which gave us a sting of real pain. 
 For, during these years of fierce conflict and strife, 
 
 The warmest of friends we'd become, 
 And a brotherly feeling was everywhere rife 
 Which would make us warm comrades thru all future life, 
 
 Regardless of lot or of home. 
 
 And so when, at the last, we were called on to part, 
 
 A sadness, both deep and sincere, 
 Came to us unbidden and entered each heart. 
 
 Driving out much of gladness and cheer. 
 For how to these comrades good-bye could we say — 
 
 These comrades we often had met 
 Amid all the dangers of War's fearful fray, 
 And with whom we had "soldiered" for many a day — 
 
 Without feeling the sorest regret. 
 
 Hence today, when reviewing these long fifty years, 
 
 Our mem'ry brings fresh to our thought 
 Not only the gladness, but also the tears 
 
 Which, together, our home-coming brought — 
 We recall all the pleasure which came rich and true. 
 
 When we felt we were home to remain, 
 And also the sadness and heart-ache we knew 
 When we bade our war comrades a solemn adieu, 
 Knowing not what rough paths they'd be called to pursue, 
 
 Or if ever we'd see them again. 
 
 But where are they today? And what do we knov; 
 
 Of these men after all the years past? 
 Have their lives been made happy by pleasure's warm glow, 
 
 Or has sorrow their lives overcast? 
 The prompt answer comes: To them life has brought 
 
 Due measure of shade and of sun. 
 While some have gone forward and happily wrought 
 And have gained almost fully the pleasures they sought, 
 
 Some others few pleasures have won. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 81 
 
 Some early and late have fought a stern Fate 
 
 That met them with cruelest frown 
 And. though doing their best whene'er put to the test. 
 
 They've been forced, with sad hearts, to go down. 
 While others have won a decided success 
 
 in their schemes and their plans day by day. 
 And have found, here and there, much to comfort and bless. 
 Having known very little of Life's storm and stress. 
 
 With kind Fate as a helper alway. 
 
 And so many thoughts will come fresh to our mind. 
 
 While reviewing these long fifty years. 
 Some bringing a pleasure that can't be defined. 
 
 And some bringing sadness and tears. 
 We know on that day when we said our good-bye. 
 
 And parted as friends true and rare. 
 We were all young and hearty while Life's future sky 
 Was all cloudless and bright and glad hope beat most high 
 
 In the breast of each one of us there. 
 
 But to-day only few of these comrades say "Herd" 
 
 As we call o'er the names we then knew. 
 And but few in the ranks any longer appear 
 
 When, as comrades, we "pass in review." 
 The many have gone and their presence no more 
 
 Shall we see ever with us again, 
 Being wearied of life and worn and foot-sore. 
 They have said their good-byes and "have gone on before," 
 
 While only the few now remain. 
 
 But the few who remain I How unlike they have grown 
 
 To themselves fifty long years agol 
 While, as year followed year more swift it has flown, 
 
 Their steps have grown more and more slow. 
 From youth strong and cheerful and hearts free from care, 
 
 And hope for a future all bright. 
 They have grown to be feeble and wrinkled and spare, 
 With weak and bent forms which no longer can bear 
 
 The burdens they once thought so light. 
 
 Yes ! We few who remain are now feeble and old, 
 
 And have traveled a long, weary way. 
 While we know, for a truth, we're fast losing our hold 
 
 On the strength which all need in Life's fray. 
 But, while we're permitted to live here below 
 
 And partake of this earth's goodly fare. 
 We'll keep our hearts cheerful with hope's ruddy glow, 
 Believing that, some time, a future we'll know 
 
 With its joy that we ever may share. 
 
82 WAR VERSE 
 
 THE SOLDIERS' WIDOW. 
 
 Yes ! I lived here alone after he went awaj% 
 
 With our three little children so dear, 
 And I managed to live in that lone, quiet way 
 
 During all of his soldier career. 
 For my husband you know, joined the Army to fight 
 
 For his country and all its just laws. 
 And to do what he could for "Old Glory" and Right 
 In assisting the Nation whose arm of strong might 
 
 Was defending the grand Union cause. 
 
 It was trying and sad both for him and for me 
 
 When the time came for him to depart. 
 For the thought that his home he might nevermore see 
 
 Filled with sorrow both his and my heart. 
 The children were young and could not comprehend 
 
 What was meant by his going away, 
 But we, who knew well and yet could not mend 
 
 Our torn, bleeding hearts, besought some Power to lend 
 Its aid and its comfort and hurriedly send 
 Some messenger able to bring to an end 
 
 The heart-ache we felt on that day. 
 
 My husband, at first, scarcely knew what to do 
 
 .'Vbout leaving the children and me, 
 But his country he loved and his brave heart and true 
 
 Was loyal to duty whate'er that might be. 
 So he asked me, one day, my opinion and then 
 
 We talked freely about what was best. 
 And I finally said, as the cause needed men. 
 He had better enlist for never again 
 Could he think, if he didn't, of "what might have been" 
 
 But to blush and his action detest. 
 
 'Twas a hard thing to say and my heart grew most sad 
 
 As I came to recall what I'd said. 
 But my words pleased my husband and made his heart glad 
 
 As at once from his action I read. 
 He felt it his duty to go, as I knew, 
 
 But held back for the children and me. 
 And when I assured him with words firm and true, 
 I could care for the children the short months and few 
 Until, with war closed, his home-coming was due. 
 
 He felt quite relieved, I could see. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE S^ 
 
 How fondly we loved! and we lived in the light 
 
 Of each other's presence and thought. 
 And our lives were made richer and more and more bright 
 
 As together we counselled and wrought. 
 And then the dear children brought comfort and cheer 
 
 And waked in our hearts a new love, 
 While we all were most happy with never a fear 
 That anything evil would ever appear 
 
 And a foe to our happiness prove. 
 
 But the parting time came and with sadness of heart 
 
 The final good-byes were all said, 
 And. with tears falling thickly, I saw him depart, 
 
 Leaving me crushed with sorrow and dread. 
 How dark grew my life when I knew he was gone ! 
 
 How cheerless and cold seemed our home 
 Where I, with the children, must live all alone 
 While listening ever to Sorrow's sad tone 
 As it came to my ears with a constant, wierd moan 
 
 Until back to his home he should come. 
 
 How I worried along through the few following days 
 
 I never could possibly tell, 
 For my life seemed so dark, with no bright cheering ra} . 
 
 The darkness to lift or dispel. 
 But the children came finally into my thought 
 
 And while thinking of them once again, 
 I saw, that by doing for them as I ought, 
 I was doing for him, and this roused me and brought 
 
 Some relief to my sorrow and pain. 
 
 And I then started forward a new life to live 
 
 To suppress my sad feelings — and so 
 The best that I had to our children to give 
 
 And thus help them a bright life to know. 
 With this work before me, I labored full well, 
 
 And oft through the dark came the light 
 To banish my pain and the sadness dispel 
 Which weighed down my heart as no mortal can tell, 
 
 And make life, for a time, somewhat bright. 
 
 There were many dark days the best I could do. 
 
 And the time dragged most heavily by, 
 While it seemed some days' duties I scarce could get throup' 
 
 No matter how hard I might try. 
 
84 WAR VERSE 
 
 My husband's fond letters came frequent to cheer 
 
 And to help me life's burdens to bear. 
 For he filled them with love which was true and sincere 
 For the children and me and which made life less drear 
 
 As I struggled 'mid darkness and care. 
 
 Thus weeks came and went, and the months, till two years, 
 
 Had passed, all in quiet, away. 
 While I lived a lone life amid hopings and fears, 
 
 Finding little to brighten life's day. 
 Then a sad message came which brought deepest of woe 
 
 And filled me with bitterest pain. 
 As it told how my husband, while fighting the foe. 
 Had received a sad wound which at once laid him low, 
 
 And he ne'er would do duty again. 
 
 I wanted to go to his side right away 
 
 To help and to comfort and cheer 
 But duty demanded that here I must stay 
 
 And I knew that this duty was clear, 
 For one of our children was sick and in need 
 
 Of a mother's kind nursing and care. 
 Since its sickness was stubborn and paid little heed 
 To the Doctor's prescriptions ; but with fiercest greed 
 
 Seemed resolved its young life not to spare. 
 
 How I managed to live through those days of sore pain — 
 
 — Those weeks of continuous Hell — 
 The torture of nerve, and of heart, and of brain — 
 
 I am wholly unable to tell. 
 With my husband sore wounded and far, far away 
 
 And likely to die any hour. 
 With our child sick at home and day after day 
 
 Losing slowly its life-giving power, 
 'Twas a wonder that I had the strength to do aught 
 
 Either inside the house or without. 
 To perform the plain duties the darksome days brought 
 
 Or the will-power to keep me about. 
 
 But I knew I was needed as never before 
 
 By the children who had only me 
 To look to for comfort, and help, and, though sore 
 
 And broken in heart, I could see 
 What Duty demanded and how I must heed 
 
 Stern Duty's demands and then try 
 To give help to the children and see they were freed 
 From all useless burdens and all their real need 
 
 Was met with the fullest supply. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 85 
 
 As I recognized this I went right to my work 
 
 With a newness of purpose and zeal, 
 Resolved that no duty, if known, would I shirk. 
 
 No matter how bad I might feel. 
 But the most bitter grief I was now called to bear, 
 
 For there came a sad message which said 
 That in spite of the best and most faithful of care 
 And of every skilled effort his fond life to spare. 
 
 My true and brave husband was dead. 
 
 This message was more than my weak nerves could stand 
 
 As I read it with heart sad and sore. 
 And its contents deprived me of all self-command 
 
 And I sank in a faint to the floor. 
 It was some little time before I revived 
 
 And when I could think clear and bright 
 And came to know well of what I'd been deprived 
 It seemed, that about me, all things had contrived 
 To blacken my pathway and while I survived 
 
 Make me live in the darkest of night. 
 
 I lost all ambition and cared not to live — 
 
 No interest had here or there 
 In the home I'd so loved and hence ceased to give 
 
 Any thought to life's duties, or care — 
 My husband's remains, without any delay. 
 
 Arrived at our home and were laid 
 Away in the grave-yard one sad, solemn day, 
 While I went about in a dazed sort of way, 
 Half-crazed with my grief and with little to say 
 
 To aught that was done or was said. 
 
 For many a day I lived this sad life, 
 
 Facing darkness within and without. 
 While the great world around, with its bustle and strife, 
 
 Seemed forgetful that I was about. 
 But a change came one day, when my sick child, so dear, 
 
 Said to me in a voice clear and strong : 
 "I'll soon be well, mama, so have no more fear; 
 For I'll take papa's place and be ever near 
 
 To cheer you and help you along." 
 
 This saying aroused mo to critical thought 
 
 And led me to ask what 1 meant 
 By thus wasting my life and bringing to naught 
 
 What could he so usefully spent? 
 And, while thinking these thoughts, I looked all around 
 
 To learn what stern Duty said do. 
 
86 WAR VERSE 
 
 And, with little of effort, I readily found 
 That the children and self I was morally bound 
 To help to a life bright and true. 
 
 So I started to work and a swift change I wrought 
 
 In our life within doors and without ; 
 For sunshine, and cheer and much good I soon brought 
 
 To the children and all round about. 
 I could not forget my dead husband, so dear, 
 
 And I grieved my great loss with sore heart. 
 But I labored to check both the sigh and the tear 
 And to cause selfish feelings to all disappear 
 By doing Love's duty to all far and near 
 
 And by bearing, in Life's work, my part. 
 
 I was helped in this work — greatly helped when I knew 
 
 That a change for the better had come 
 In the lives of the children — that there quickly grew 
 
 A new brightness and cheer in our home — 
 But the greatest of help I derived from the thought 
 
 That my husband would want me to do 
 Just as I was doing and would not say aught 
 
 To discourage such good work and true. 
 He would want me, I felt, to be cheerful and bright 
 
 And to plan for the children alway, 
 To fill their lives and mine with all the delight 
 That I possibly could and then put to swift flight 
 
 Every cloud that would darken our day. 
 
 And thus I kept living for year after year, 
 
 Growing stronger in conquering self, 
 While the children, all happy, grew more and more dear 
 
 And their love brought me richest of wealth. 
 They are grown to full manhood and womanhood now 
 
 And are near me to help and sustain, 
 While they labor to drive every cloud from my brow 
 And so well they succeed that they manage somehow 
 My mind and my heart with such strength to endow 
 That I'm able to stand by my old taken vow. 
 
 And to drive away most of my pain. 
 
 Thus my life, for the most part, is happy and bright, 
 Though a dark hour will come now and then. 
 
 And I'm thankful for all of the comfort and light 
 That I had in the years that have been. 
 
 I recall our Great War with the suffering and pain 
 Endured by the loyal and brave 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 87 
 
 In the army and out, and the long, cruel reign 
 Of Passion and Hell while our braves fought to gain 
 A victory such as would bring Peace again 
 And the Union forever would save. 
 
 But throughout all the years since the close of the War, 
 
 While the Fates have been ususally kind, 
 The thought of my husband and what he died for 
 
 Has rarely been out of my mind. 
 I sacrificed much when that brave hero died— 
 
 — Few can know what a great sacrifice — 
 And, while I rejoice that he had loyal pride 
 To stand by the Union and die for't beside, ^ 
 I feel I should value the Union more high 
 Because for its sake he was ready to die 
 
 And to pay for it such a great price. 
 
 THE SOLDIERS' MONUMENT. 
 [Read at its Dedication.] 
 
 Proud monument stand, whatsoever betide, 
 
 'Neath a sky ever sunny and bright, 
 We dedicate thee, under stern Duty's guide, 
 
 To Freedom and Union and Right. 
 
 We dedicate thee to the patriots brave 
 Who went from our homes to uphold 
 
 The Banner of Freedom — the Union to save — 
 By valor that cannot be told. 
 
 We hail thee ! the work of our own tardy hands. 
 
 For years most unkindly delayed — 
 May the time never come while the solid earth stands. 
 
 When thy glory shall wither or fade. 
 
 All down coming ages, forever and aye, 
 
 Mayst thou stand both in storm and in sun. 
 
 Speaking ever the praises, as we speak today, 
 Of those who fought treason and won. 
 
 May the dews, dropping on thee from Heaven above, 
 Bring blessings most plentiful down ; 
 
 May each raindrop that falls, fall only in love, 
 A gem for each soldier's bright crown. 
 
WAR VERSE 
 
 May the breeze, after pausing a moment to play 
 Round thy form to our soldiers upraised, 
 
 Fly hence to the grave of each soldier and say 
 That his name is still honored and praised. 
 
 May the rays of the sun as they kiss thy cold face. 
 
 Haste swiftly to heaven away 
 And hear to our soldiers in that blessed place 
 
 The record of this sacred day. 
 
 And thus may our soldiers be honored as long 
 As thine own granite columns shall stand. 
 
 And in honoring them may our people grow strong 
 In tfieir love for this proud Union land. 
 
 Thus ever may valor and loyalty reign. 
 
 And all treason be crushed by their might, 
 
 Our people stand firmly and ever maintain, 
 Their Freedom and Union and Right. 
 
 The monument which 1 desire, 
 
 When I pass to my home in the sky, 
 Is not any marble's proud shaft, 
 
 To tell where my ashes may lie, 
 But erected in human hearts, 
 
 A shaft that will truthfully say: 
 "He was true to himself first and last, 
 
 And stood for the Right alway." 
 
OrHLR VLR5L 
 
 OUR DEAD POET. 
 
 The charnel-house is filling fast, 
 
 Its portals day by day 
 Are closing o'er the loved who've passed 
 
 From earth and us away. 
 We mourn them all where'er they stood, 
 But most we mourn the kind and good. 
 
 And one is gone ! A Nation's pride 
 
 Now sleepeth with the dead ; 
 The battle's armor laid aside 
 
 And with the heavy tread 
 Of life's long march, weary and tried. 
 He laid him down and calmly died. 
 
 The kind are honored, and should they 
 
 The only honored be, 
 Should we our thanks and homage pay, 
 
 Alone to those we see 
 Do loving deeds through all their days. 
 How heartfelt now should be our praise. 
 
 The good are wept o'er and the brave, 
 The true, the pure of heart, 
 
 Are all lamented when the grave 
 Has claimed the mortal part, 
 
 And now, if those alone we weep. 
 
 How true should be our grief and deep. 
 
 And we do weep, the Nation weeps 
 
 For one it loved so well ; 
 It honors him whose body sleeps 
 
 Low in its narrow cell, 
 But whose bright fame diffused so wide 
 The grave can never dim or hide. 
 
90 WAR VERSE 
 
 If there is one of human form. 
 We admire above the rest, 
 
 'Tis he on whom the angry storm 
 Of life has rudely pressed, 
 
 But who, with firm and steady will, 
 
 Against the storm pressed onward still. 
 
 If there is one deserves our praise 
 
 Above the mighty crowd, 
 'Tis he who's struggled many days 
 
 In poverty and cloud, 
 But who, 'gainst opposition's frown. 
 At length found honor and renown. 
 
 .A^nd such was he who, left alone 
 With naught but mind and pen. 
 
 Entered the field wherein had grown 
 Hundreds of giant men, 
 
 And here he toiled from day to day. 
 
 Till he had grown as great as they. 
 
 'Tvvas not mere accident that made 
 His name as widely known, 
 
 Misfortune would his steps have stayed, 
 And crushed him basely down. 
 
 The wreath of fame he ne'er had worn, 
 
 Had he no toil or labor borne. 
 
 Renown is but a worthless thing, 
 When bought with human gore. 
 
 Though gained by emperor or king, 
 'Tis worthless evermore, 
 
 But 'tis at once a noble prize 
 
 When bought with honest energies. 
 
 The politician with base art, 
 
 The trickster by vile schemes 
 
 May gain, of fame's applause, a part 
 The acme of his dreams, 
 
 But such applause is vile and stained 
 
 Compared with that by virtue gained. 
 
 Thanks for the lesson of thy life. 
 Our Nation's honored sage ! 
 
 'Twill teach us in the world's fierce strife 
 With firmness to engage. 
 
 And that the noblest, truest fame 
 
 Is that acquired in honor's name. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE yi 
 
 America is proud of thee, 
 
 Proud of what thou hast done. 
 Her sons, encouraged as they see 
 
 How bright thy glory's sun, 
 Will tread with firmer step the road 
 That leads to honor's fair abode. 
 
 Then sweetly sleep ! The grave has claimed 
 
 Only what must decay. 
 Thy many works, both great and famed. 
 
 Can never pass away. 
 And while we scatter thy grave with flowers, 
 We joy that these are forever ours. 
 
 HOW TO LIVE. 
 
 How shall I live? 
 This thought came to me, vexed with doubt and fears, 
 
 With many calls to heed and ways to run, 
 With much to do and much to leave undone. 
 How shall I act amid life's cares and tears? 
 How fill with good the ever busy years 
 
 And leave each common duty nobly done? 
 How round my life with kindly word and deed 
 And prove a blessing to a world in need — 
 How shall I live? 
 
 Live manfully — with purpose high and strong. 
 All childish things the man should put away ; 
 
 Should school himself to earnest thought and care ; 
 
 Should learn, with lofty aim, to do and dare ; 
 Should, with his childhood, leave his childhood play, 
 While struggling bravely upward day by day. 
 
 Resolved with trifling things to have no share. 
 Great issues call for noble deeds and grand. 
 And manly men are ever in demand — 
 
 Live manfully and help to crush the wrong. 
 
 Live helpfully — in loving brotherhood. 
 
 This world is full of tears and agony — 
 
 Where'er we turn are hearts bowed down with woe, 
 And souls whose deepest grief we ne'er can know. 
 
 Duty says : "Search these out and kindly try 
 
 To help and comfort — not pass coldly by, 
 
 And leave them, lone, their weary way to go." 
 
92 WAR VERSE 
 
 If each for others had a proper care, 
 How light would be the burdens mankind bear — 
 Live helpfully and be a power for good. 
 
 Live with high aim and with a brave, firm will. 
 The times need men with brain and courage strong. 
 With high resolve to battle for the Right, 
 With iron nerve to lead the fiercest fight. 
 And win great things for truth, and 'midst the throng 
 Of ill, with giant blows, strike down the wrong. 
 
 Conquering its champions with an arm of might- 
 Each worthy cause into fresh life will start 
 When noble aims shall quicken every heart- 
 Live with high aim, life's duties to fulfill. 
 
 Live actively, with ready heart and hand. 
 Idlers aren't wanted in life's busy crowd — 
 
 Many great works are yet to be begun. 
 
 Great truths to push and conquests to be won ; 
 And these need men, with energy endowed. 
 To lend a helping hand and cry aloud 
 
 To all around : "Here's work that must be done." 
 Let idlers rouse with earnest heart and strong. 
 And soon will Right prove victor over Wrong — 
 
 Live actively at Duty's firm command. 
 
 Live nobly free, with high and lofty thought. 
 Man was not made to grovel in the dust. 
 
 But made to walk erect, with purpose high 
 
 To plan and carve a noble destiny ; 
 And he lives best who's not a slave to lust. 
 Or greed, or base desire, or any gust 
 
 Of evil passion that his soul may try — 
 The honest man, with manly self-control — 
 Allows no passion to enslave his soul. 
 
 Live, never to be shackled or be bought. 
 
 Live with a generous and loving heart. 
 There's giving which enriches him that gives. 
 
 There's keeping which brings only poverty — 
 
 Greater than faith or hope is charity ; 
 And he a sorry half-life only lives. 
 Who thinks alone of that which he receives. 
 
 And makes his gold his only deity — 
 The niggard soul, whose only thought is self, 
 Ls poor indeed, though rolling in its wealth — 
 
 Live — aid and comfort ever to impart. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 93 
 
 Live trustingly, with kindly, brother love. 
 
 'Tis faith men need, and not a mean distrust ; 
 
 Firm faith in both their neighbors and the Right- 
 Suspicion leads to hate, and hate's base might 
 
 Whips straight to Hell — the honest man, and just 
 
 Will drive suspicion from him in disgust. 
 
 Trusting his fellows and, with heart of light, 
 
 Believing that, if fully understood. 
 
 In every soul there is somewhat of good. 
 
 Live, hoping all some good in them will prove. 
 
 Live without envy, jealousy or hate, 
 This life's struggle ; wheresoe'er we be 
 
 Eager and pushing mortals hem us in. 
 
 All rushing on ambition's prize to win, 
 While, in the rush and hurry, often we 
 Are left behind, in sorest misery, 
 
 To nurse, as best we can, our deep chagrin. 
 But envy not the ones who gain the prize. 
 For oft it serves to swell one's miseries. 
 
 Live to make human burdens small, not great 
 
 Live happy ever 'mid life's storm and stress. 
 
 Life's shade and sunshine come to all so free 
 
 That largely we can walk in either as we will ; 
 But better 'tis to let the sun distill 
 
 Its light and warmth along our path and be 
 A joy and blessing to us constantly. 
 Complaint makes sunshine shadow and will kill 
 
 The brightest Howers of pleasure that would bring 
 
 To human hearts their glad, sweet offering- 
 Live, seeking ever to be blest and bless. 
 
 Live, never thinking wholly of thyself. 
 
 Nothing so dwarfs the soul as selfishness. 
 Who live for self alone are poor indeed. 
 And poorer grow for that whereon they feed. 
 
 But they who live for others and would l)less 
 
 All whom they can with kindly helpfulness. 
 
 Will grow in true and manly strength and speed. 
 
 To noble manhood, and will ever be 
 
 A pattern fair of true nobility. 
 
 Live, knowing brother love is richest wealth. 
 
 How shall I live? 
 O ! Thou great God, omnipotent and high, 
 From the beginning Thou dost see the end ! 
 Thou art the source of light, and Thou canst send 
 
94 WAR VERSE 
 
 Light unto whom Thou wilt. Hear Thou my cry, 
 I humbly pray — Illume my mental eye. 
 
 That I may see aright and comprehend 
 The meaning of my life, and thus may know 
 How best to shape my acts where'er 1 go — 
 How best to live. 
 
 OUR ANSWERED PRAYER. 
 
 A dread disease was gnawing at her heart ; 
 
 Her lips were parched, and fevered was her brain ; 
 And, as the fire sped to each vital part, 
 
 We spake our fears and whispered in our pain : 
 "Lord I save our child !" 
 
 Seven summers had her presence blessed our home ; 
 
 Seven winters her sweet life to us been given ; 
 We could not let her go, though 'twere to roam 
 With holy angels — so we cried to Heaven : 
 "Lord! save our child!" 
 
 Her smile was gladness, and her presence joy ; 
 
 Her voice was music, and her laughter song — 
 And must she die? "O, God, who canst destroy, 
 
 Thou, too, canst heal ! Hence we our prayer prolong : 
 "Lord! save our child!" 
 
 She was so sweet and loving, fair and bright. 
 
 So purely fit for angels' company. 
 We could not fail to love and take delight 
 
 In her young life. Hence we prayed fervently : 
 "Lord ! save our child !" 
 
 For many days we watched and wept and prayed, 
 And sought to heal with many studied arts ; 
 
 But .still the fever raged, nor could be stayed 
 
 Its step toward death ; while rose from our sore hearts : 
 "Lord ! .save our child !" 
 
 Yet deeper grew our grief with deeper fear ; 
 
 How could we give our little darling up ! 
 The thought was bitter, making more sincere 
 
 And deep our prayer : "Father, remove the cup 
 And save our child !" 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 95 
 
 The answer came — just at the close of day. 
 
 When listening souls can hear a spirit's tread, 
 An angel came and kissed her life away, 
 
 And took her home e'en while we sadly plead : 
 "Lord ! save our child !" 
 
 The answer came, but not as we besought— 
 
 To keep our loved one in our fond embrace — 
 
 But in the kindness of a Father's thought. 
 And in the richness of a Father's grace, 
 
 (kxi saved our child ! 
 
 Saved from a life of sorrow-ladened years, 
 
 Saved in Heaven's home with bliss beyond compare. 
 
 With this blest thought, e'en through our blinding tears 
 We can look up and thank a Father's care 
 
 That saved our child ! 
 
 And though our hearts are very sad and sore 
 
 Because God seemed to set our prayer at naught. 
 
 Yet we shall learn, when on the other shore. 
 
 He did much better than we asked or thought — 
 
 He saved our child ! 
 
 TO MY WIFE. 
 
 W^heii absent from thee I am lonely indeed. 
 
 And the hours and the moments drag wearily by ; 
 In whatever I do, or wherever I speed. 
 
 My thoughts turn to thee with a pain and a sigh. 
 1 miss thee at morning, at noon and at night. 
 
 And I long for the time when thy face I shall see : 
 No joy can so fill up its cup of delight 
 
 As to make me forget that I'm absent from thee. 
 
 The glow of the morn, with the sun shining clear. 
 
 The quiet of eve with the stars beaming bright. 
 Only waken my heart to a half -life of cheer. 
 
 And my pulse to a thrill of half-perfect delight. 
 The strains of rich music, so sweet to my heart. 
 
 The voices of friends, ever near me each day, 
 Come laden with joy, but they only impart 
 
 A half-joy to me, because thou art away. 
 
m WAR VERSE 
 
 In the soilness of night, when old visions will start 
 
 Into newness of life, roused by thought's quickened will, 
 When dreams, long since faded, by some mystic art 
 
 Rise up once again my fond fancy to fill ; 
 When mem'ry lives over the days now no more. 
 
 And the blessings recounts which have come to my share. 
 No blessing I number in all the rich store 
 
 With the blessing thou'st brought me at all can compare. 
 
 'Tis strange how our lives have together been blended. 
 
 How two souls into one soul have gradually grown, 
 Till the one by the other must e'er be attended. 
 
 Or life's brightest day leaves us restless and lone. 
 The cup may o'erfiow with its mixture of sweetness. 
 
 The goblet be filled with the richest of wine. 
 But to gather from either its perfect completeness. 
 
 We must share, both together, its richness divine. 
 
 No wealth equals that of a true, loving friend. 
 
 Affection brings joy all others above. 
 And that man is blest who, to life's latest end. 
 
 Possesses one woman's unwavering love. 
 Such love I have found both to comfort and cheer. 
 
 Such love I have had to make brigliter my life; 
 And it's brought me sweet bliss and checked many a (ear 
 
 As it flowed from the heart of my dear, loving wife. 
 
 THE TWO HOUSES. 
 
 [It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house 
 of fea.sting. — Eccl. 7-2.] 
 
 I went to the house of feasting. 
 
 Where joy held unbounded sway — 
 Where never a note of sadness 
 
 Was heard either night or day. 
 Joy greeted me at the threshold 
 
 And eagerly grasped my hand. 
 And bade me a hearty welcome 
 
 To his palace rich and grand. 
 
 He led me through hall and parlor, 
 Adorned with the utmost care. 
 And showed me the richness and beauty 
 
 Of all he had gathered there ; 
 He seated me at the banquet 
 In state, at his own right hand. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 97 
 
 Where the rich, gay seekers of pleasure 
 Were feasting at his command, 
 
 I ate of the costly viands, 
 
 I drank with the joyous throng, 
 I shared in the mirth and gladness. 
 
 And joined in the noisy song. 
 With story, and laughter, and feasting 
 
 Many long hours went by, 
 While from the goblet of pleasure 
 
 None drank more deeply than I. 
 
 Then week into week succeeded, 
 
 And month followed month along; 
 And each day I sought this palace 
 
 To share in its revel and song. 
 I said I will see if feasting 
 
 And pleasure can satisfy 
 A soul which has boundless longings 
 
 .\nd yearnings to gratify. 
 
 And so I drank deeper and deeper. 
 
 Each day from Joy's brimming bowl, 
 Thus hoping to find a something, 
 
 That would satisfy the soul. 
 So the days sped hurriedly onward. 
 
 And the nights rushed swiftly by, 
 And left me still wanting a something 
 
 That feasting could not supply. 
 
 I went to the house of mourning. 
 
 Where grief held unbounded sway. 
 Where never a sound of laughter. 
 
 Was heard either night or day. 
 Grief sat at the open doorway. 
 
 And coldly my person scanned. 
 Then silently bade me enter. 
 
 With a wave of her wasted hand. 
 
 In silence and unattended. 
 
 Through room after room I went. 
 While my heart grew sad at the emblems 
 
 Of sorrow and discontent, 
 Which crowded each nook and corner 
 
 And were hanging on every wall. 
 While Gloom, as a speechless sentry, 
 
 Paced ever through parlor and hall. 
 
!W WAR VERSE 
 
 And on every side were mourners. 
 
 Sad-faced and sorry of heart. 
 Some walking about in silence, 
 
 Some sitting alone and apart. 
 Some wringing their hands in anguish. 
 
 Some beating their breasts in pain. 
 Some venting their grief in wailing, 
 
 Some shedding their tears like rain. 
 
 And I said : Is there none to comfort 
 
 These hearts so weary and sad? 
 No one to speak words consoling, 
 
 That will make them cheerful and glad 
 Are there none to heal the wounded, 
 
 Bring joy to the broken of heart. 
 Or offer some word of kindness. 
 
 That will cheer with its magic art? 
 
 Then I went to the weary mourner 
 
 And I spoke a word of cheer. 
 And from eyes, all red with weeping. 
 
 I wiped away the tear. 
 And I took the hand of the sad one 
 
 Sitting alone and apart, 
 And the balm of consolation 
 
 Poured into his wounded heart. 
 
 'Twas but little that I attempted. 
 
 Yet the look, less full of pain, 
 Or the hand with its gentle pressure. 
 
 Told me it was not in vain. 
 And a feeling of sweetest pleasure. 
 
 Such as I had never known, 
 Filled my heart to its utmost measure. 
 
 And abode with me, all my own. 
 
 For out of self I was lifted. 
 
 For others had been my thought. 
 And I felt I was nobler, better, 
 
 For the good that I had wrought. 
 And I left the house with the feeling 
 
 That 'tis better to help along. 
 The sad in the house of mourning, 
 
 Than to feast with the riotous throng. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE ' 99 
 
 THE COMING YEARS. 
 
 As we journey onward 
 
 O'er life's rugged way. 
 Let us greet with courage 
 
 Every coming day. 
 Cheerful in our welcome. 
 
 Hearts attuned to joy, 
 Seeking some new pleasure 
 
 In some new employ. 
 
 Each should toward the future 
 
 Look forevermore, 
 Trusting that of blessing 
 
 It has richest store. 
 Hoping that in sunshine 
 
 And in joys that last 
 It may be far richer 
 
 Than has been the past. 
 
 True, the days yet coming, 
 
 Like the days gone by. 
 Will have joy and sorrow 
 
 Mingled constantly. 
 Hopes will oft be blighted. 
 
 Sadness cloud our way, 
 When we look for gladness 
 
 And a perfect day. 
 
 But 'tis life's great lesson 
 
 Which we all should learn, 
 Who makes others happy 
 
 Happy'll be in turn ; 
 And the good we're seeking, 
 
 And the joys we woo 
 Spring from joys we scatter, 
 
 And the good we do. 
 
 So we should remember, 
 
 As we journey on, 
 There are deeds of kindness 
 
 Ever to be done, 
 Some poor, weary brother. 
 
 Struggling in life's fray 
 Needs some hand to help him 
 
 On his tiresome way. 
 
100 WAR VERSE 
 
 You may have light burdens. 
 
 His may heavy be ; 
 Help him in his struggle 
 
 As his need you see, 
 Cheer him with your kindness. 
 
 Comfort when you can. 
 Ever see a brother 
 
 In your fellow man. 
 
 Thus will sunshine brighter 
 
 On your pathway glow, 
 Thus will joy attend you 
 
 Wheresoe'er you go. 
 Thus your heart will gather 
 
 Much of goodly cheer, 
 While making others happy. 
 
 In their sad career. 
 
 So with love and kindness. 
 
 True to all that's right. 
 Make your life the brighter 
 
 By making others bright. 
 Scatter rays of sunshine. 
 
 Dry the mourner's tears. 
 And thus fill up the measure. 
 
 Of the coming years. 
 
 THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 Yes! the old year is dead! Time has rapidly passed. 
 Since with "Happy New Year" he greeted us last. 
 His step has been noiseless, yet fearful and strange, 
 Are the marks he has left us of sorrow and change ; 
 And we see as our daily round we tread, 
 And recall the moments forever fled, 
 How many have passed from their homes below. 
 That we met in our rounds but a year ago. 
 
 Oh Time ! how relentless ! Thy conquests are made 
 With regard to no person, condition or grade. 
 Thou workest thy changes, unheeding man's fears, 
 Despising his sorrows, unmoved by his tears. 
 Thy heart ne'er repents, and thy hand never spares 
 For humanity's wishes, entreaties or prayers. 
 The proud and the humble, the sad and the gay, 
 The lord and his vassal, all bow to thy sway. 
 
AND OTHER VKRSE 101 
 
 Proud Wealth has no power to stay thy stern hand. 
 E'eti princes must yield to thy cruel command. 
 And before thy keen scythe "that cuts down all," 
 The rich and the poor, both alike must fall. 
 
 Thy finger writes lines on the loveliest brow, 
 And the darkest of locks thou dost whiten to snow. 
 Thou smitest old age in thy savage glee. 
 And youth yields its beauty up unto thee. 
 The helpless, the weak, the oppressed with care. 
 Whom 'tis ever noble and manly to spare. 
 Ne'er gain from thee in their deep distress 
 A word or a look of tenderness. 
 
 The dearest idols, the treasures rare. 
 Which humanity watches with tenderest care : 
 The fondest hopes and the brightest dreams. 
 Which lighten life's darkness with golden beams. 
 Without a tear or regretful sigh. 
 Thou sweepest away as thou rushest by. 
 Thy pestilent breath leaves a deadly blight 
 On all earth holds that is fair and bright ; 
 E'en man in his strength and nobility 
 Is only a victim unto thee ; 
 And the proudest work his hand can raise 
 At thy touch crumbles and decays. 
 
 How rapid and fleet Time's movements are. 
 How mighty his changes, no tongue can declare. 
 The year that has passed us so swiftly by. 
 Hurrying away to eternity. 
 Bears a wonderful record upon its wings 
 Of change and decay among earthly things. 
 It has seen sad sights, this same old year. 
 It has witnessed strange scenes 'mong us mortals here. 
 It has noted bright joys and heart-felt sighs. 
 And watched tears gather in joyful eyes. 
 It has seen high hopes and golden dreams. 
 The dearest plans and most cherished schemes. 
 The treasures and idols of beauty and light. 
 All crushed, and broken, and swept from our sight. 
 
 It has listened to promises sacredly made, 
 And has seen those promises lightly betrayed. 
 It has heard the sighs of the suffering poor. 
 As they turned, unfed, from the rich man's door. 
 Both hearts of sorrow and hearts of light 
 Have been open laid to its piercing sight. 
 And the monarch's laugh and the beggar's cry 
 
302 WAR VERSE 
 
 Fell alike on its ear as it hurried by. 
 
 It has stood beside the dying bed, 
 
 It has seen the tears by loved ones shed. 
 
 And when the icy touch of death 
 
 Has hushed forever the last faint breath, 
 
 It has witnessed how deep the agony 
 
 Affection feels when its loved ones die. 
 
 Yes, hearts have been crushed and graves have been made. 
 Friendships been broken, and hopes have decayed, 
 Loved ones have parted with all they held dear. 
 Since last we greeted "The Happy New Year." 
 
 But the old year has passed with its sorrows away, 
 'Twix the old and the new we are standing to-day. 
 And we look o'er the past with a searching eye. 
 And recall the days gone so swiftly by. 
 We think of their sunshine and also their shade. 
 And recount the changes their passing has made. 
 The sorrow and joy, the smile and the tear, 
 At memory's summons before us appear ; 
 But we turn from them all with no idle regret. 
 Resolved all their sorrows and tears to forget, 
 And over the grave of the buried year, 
 We heave no sigh and we shed no tear. 
 For we look to a future all cloudless and bright. 
 Which fancy makes gorgeous with beauty and light, 
 While hope crowns its moments with happiness rare, 
 Unmingled with sorrow, unladened with care. 
 
 Yes, bright in the future we hope we may tread ! 
 And cloudless the sky that is over us spread. 
 And gentle the gales and balmy the air, 
 That are pictured by Fancy, awaiting us there. 
 And may such a future to all come to bless, 
 To bani.sh all sorrow, relieve all distress — 
 And bring them a joy that's inspiring and true, 
 .•\nd will brighten and bless all this earthly life through. 
 But know, if such future shall ever be theirs. 
 It will come for their work to relieve human cares, 
 For planning correctly, for living aright. 
 For doing their best to make other lives bright. 
 And believing that he, in the future, will be 
 The most happy whose acts, ever noble and free. 
 Are crowned, day by day, with a true brother love, 
 Seeking ever the warmth of its feeling to prove 
 
AND OTHER VICRSE 103 
 
 THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 Last night at midnight, a gallant new comer 
 
 Stepped in among us to stay for a while, 
 Silent he came like a zephyr of summer. 
 
 Silent, but greeting us all with a smile. 
 Long we had looked for him, waiting his coming, 
 
 Trusting his presence would bring us good cheer. 
 Happy in hoping, and glad in up-summing 
 
 The good that "would come" with the "Happy New Year." 
 
 Yes, the New Year has come, and we welcome his coming 
 
 With music and dancing, with gladness and mirth, 
 And the millions send up a glad shout of rejoicing 
 
 Whose loud-sounding echoes encircle the earth. 
 We hail him with gladness, for hope speaks, as ever 
 
 Of blessings and bounties his hand will provide. 
 And we look to the days he will bring us with never 
 
 A fear that our wants will go unsupplied. 
 
 In our welcome to-day, though, right well we remember 
 The one who came to us but twelve months ago ; 
 
 Ah ! how gladly we turned from the cold bleak December 
 Our greeting of pleasure and joy to bestow. 
 
 He came richest blessings and bounties to proffer — 
 
 He came with sweet smiles and with promises fair ; 
 
 We looked at the gifts which his hand had to ofifer 
 
 And thought them all beautiful, gorgeous and rare. 
 
 Ah ! how little we dreamed when we gave him our greeting 
 
 And thought of the gifts that he had to bestow, 
 That his promises fair would prove idle and fleeting — 
 
 That our hopes would be lost in the sadness of woe. 
 But thus has it been. The hopes that we cherished. 
 
 The visions that cheered us with images bright. 
 Have oft been delusive, or suddenly perished. 
 
 Leaving our hearts in the darkness of night. 
 
 Today we look back o'er the year that has ended, 
 
 And see, scattered thickly along our rough way. 
 Hopes, dreams, plans and visions, all mournfully blended 
 
 In the wildest of wrecks that e'er saddened life's day. 
 There are lovely ideals we longed to make ours. 
 
 There are friendships we thought would grow stronger with years, 
 There are beautiful idols and fairest of flowers, 
 
 -All gone — leaving nothing but mem'ry and tears. 
 
104 WAR VERSE 
 
 And thus, smiling New Year, thou too wilt deceive us, 
 
 Thy promises fair will prove idle and vain ; 
 The hope that now gladdens, once crushed, will but grieve u? 
 
 And leave us to struggle in sorrow and pain. 
 Today the great future looks joyous and cheerful, 
 
 And the days coming on promise naught but is fair; 
 To-morrow may gather clouds threatening and fearful. 
 
 And the joy of our hearts be o'ershadowed with care. 
 
 But why look to the future simply to borrow 
 
 A pain that perchance does not wait for us there? 
 Why picture a cloud on the coming to-morrow. 
 
 When the morrow may be all that's lovely and fair? 
 If there's sunshine to-day, let us walk in its brightness, 
 
 Not chill its glad warmth with some fanciful ill; 
 If there's cloud, let us hope, while we sit in its darkness, 
 
 That a cloudless to-morrow may dawn on us still. 
 
 The pathway we tread may be rough and uneven. 
 
 And briars and thorns may hedge in our dark way : 
 'Tis enough if, while trustingly looking to Heaven, 
 
 We bravely march on to the work of each day. 
 We can picture a future whose ills will appall us, 
 
 A path all uncheered by the rays of the sun ; 
 But 'tis best to take only the ills that befall us 
 
 Each day, and thus deal with them one after one. 
 
 Yes, the present has duties and cares for us ever, 
 
 A load we must carry with joy or with pain, 
 To meet them with courage and manly endeavor. 
 
 Demands our best powers of heart and of brain. 
 The soul that is true to a noble ideal 
 
 Will look to the future for something to cheer, 
 And will cull from the past the good and the real — 
 
 A something to comfort and banish all fear. 
 
 'Tis better for all to be true now and ever 
 
 To the task and the duty that lie in our way, 
 Remembering that only through faith and endeavor 
 
 We grow to be stronger and nobler each day. 
 Thus manfully filling life's full-rounded hours — 
 
 No sigh for the past, for the future no fear — 
 We shall find, all about us, the sunshine and flowers. 
 
 And welcome with gladness each coming New Year. 
 
AND OTHE R VERSE 105 
 
 THE FUTURE. 
 
 Yes, the New Year is here, 
 
 And glad to-day 
 
 We turn away 
 From the cruel Old Year 
 With its burden of care 
 And its tales of woe, 
 Its wails of despair 
 And its heads bowed low, 
 Its sighing, and grief, 
 And its anxious fear, 
 And, with hope of relief. 
 We welcome the glad New Year. 
 
 Ah ! hope is ever cheerful. 
 
 The future always bright. 
 And when the eye is tearful 
 
 And we scarce can see the light, 
 We turn to the to-morrow. 
 
 Hoping there to find 
 Some surcease from our sorrow, 
 Or some comfort we may borrow 
 
 To ease our burdened mind ; 
 And, e'en while we are dreaming 
 
 That, perchance, a brighter day, 
 With joy and gladness beaming 
 May dawn upon our way, 
 Hope lifts the blackened curtain 
 
 From before our saddened eyes, 
 And reveals a future, certain 
 
 With fair and cheerful skies ; 
 And their bright prospective shining 
 
 Lights the darkness overhead, 
 Till we see the silver lining 
 
 To the clouds above us spread. 
 
 Yes, the future looks bright 
 And its warm, golden light 
 Throws a cheerful halo around, 
 And its glamour is far more delightful, we ween, 
 Than aught that the world has ever seen, 
 Or aught we have ever found. 
 
 But our life in the ever changeful past 
 
 Should have taught us this lesson true. 
 That future skies will be overcast 
 
 With clouds of darkest hue, 
 
100 WAR VERSE 
 
 That life yet to come, like that of the past, 
 Will be mingled with sunshine and shade, 
 
 And that no earthly joy will forever last, 
 No brightness but sometime will fade. 
 
 But e'en in the darkness we need not be sad, 
 
 Nor lose heart when our pathway grows rough, 
 To the one, who would always be cheerful and glad. 
 There will always come helpers enough. 
 
 There is pleasure enough for everyone 
 As he travels life's journey along, 
 And all may walk in the light of the sun 
 And thus be cheerful and strong. 
 
 It was never designed by the Father above 
 
 That our lives should be cheerless and sad. 
 But He wishes, with fatherly kindness and love. 
 
 That all should be happy and glad ; 
 And blessings, abundant for one and for all, 
 
 Are ever his rich bequest. 
 And he bids us, whatever in life befall. 
 
 To partake, and be happy and blest. 
 
 Yes, it is true our earthly life 
 Will be with joy or sorrow rife 
 
 According as we will, 
 If virtue's stamp be on the soul, 
 And Charity our acts control. 
 Something to comfort and console 
 We'll find in every ill. 
 
 In the soul are ever singing 
 
 Sweet soul-voices day by day, 
 
 Lessons rich and wise they're bringing ; 
 Listen close to what they say : 
 
 "Mortal, on life's rugged pathway. 
 
 Be ye brave, and true, and kind. 
 Choose the right, the good, the noble. 
 
 Ever leave the wrong behind. 
 Be not idle — be in earnest. 
 
 Soon will pass life's fleeting day. 
 Act ! act nobly while 'tis passing, 
 
 Do not dream it all away." 
 
 "There is work enough about you 
 For the hand, the head, the heart. 
 Scorn it not ; 't'will make you nobler 
 If you bravely bear your part. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 107 
 
 All along life's rugged wayside. 
 
 Spirits crushed and bowed you'll find ; 
 Would you change their cloud to sunshine? 
 
 Then be gentle, loving, kind." 
 
 "There are many ways to gladden 
 
 Hearts, surcharged with care and pain, 
 But a word or smile in kindness 
 
 Brings them life and cheer again. 
 Then for God and those around you 
 
 Nobly do and faithful be. 
 Knowing, in the work of mercy. 
 
 That the world has need of thee." 
 
 And thus, let us list to these voices alway, 
 
 Let us practice in thought and in act what they say, 
 
 Let us e'er to our own better natures be true. 
 
 And the good, and the right, and the noble pursue, 
 
 And thus in the sunshine we'll walk day by day, 
 
 And gladness and joy will illumine our way; 
 
 For the past no regrets, for the future no fear. 
 
 We can welcome with pleasure each coming New Year. 
 
 THE OLD AND THE NEW. 
 
 Now, listen, my friends, as we jog along. 
 
 While 1 sing you my unpretentious song, 
 
 About the Old Year, and the New Year too, 
 
 What the one has done and the other will do. 
 
 I watched last night and saw the Old Year 
 
 Take his last farewell of this mundane sphere, 
 
 And I saw the New Year, with fiurry and din, 
 
 And with great parade, come rushing in. 
 
 They told me the Old Year was gruff and sad, 
 
 Disgruntled at finding the world so bad ; 
 
 That his face was wrinkled, his locks were grey, 
 
 His form bent low in a feeble way ; 
 
 That his step was slow and his eye was dim, 
 
 And I should feel sad as I looked at him. 
 
 But, pshaw! they did not tell me true. 
 
 For a chap more hearty I never knew, 
 
 With a splendid form, as fat and round 
 
 As any old man that I ever found. 
 
 He didn't go hobbling and limping along. 
 
 But walked erect, and was hearty and strong. 
 
 He knew, of course, that he had to go 
 
108 WAR VEIiSE 
 
 And leave his friends "in this vale of woe," 
 
 But he met his fate like a manly man, 
 
 Who had fought a good fight on an honest plan — 
 
 Who had done his duty as best he could, 
 
 And for right 'gainst the wrong had bravely stood. 
 
 So he said to his friends as he went his way : 
 
 "I have lived twelve months, and have had my day 
 
 For me life's sun is well nigh set, 
 
 But I leave you all without regret. 
 
 So don't feel bad as you say good-bye, 
 
 But drive the tear from your weeping eye. 
 
 And turn to the future with hearty cheer 
 
 And welcome, with gladness, the bright New Year. 
 
 Be brave for the days that must come and go. 
 
 Stand firm for the right against every foe. 
 
 And m.ay you all in the New Year's reign 
 
 Have plenty of pleasure and little of pain." 
 
 As the Old Year went, the New Year came. 
 And he was a dandy, all the same. 
 With head erect, brow free from care. 
 As jolly a chap as you'll find anywhere. 
 He was rigged all out in the best of clothes. 
 But just where he got them nobody knows, 
 And his whole get-up was most complete, 
 While he looked a king from head to feet. 
 And he seemed as pleased as the chaps who ride 
 With their own best girl down the toboggan slide. 
 And while I gazed at his wonderful phiz, 
 At his clear bright eye, and that brow of his. 
 He shouted aloud : "Oh ! what's the use 
 Of sitting there, eating your last year's goose? 
 Dont you see I am here — the glad New Year — 
 And I want you to greet me with hearty cheer ; 
 Ring out the bells, and sing and shout. 
 For I am here, and you need not doubt 
 When I promise you all, while my day shall run, 
 For a full twelve months just lots of fun." 
 
 And thus from the old as well as the new 
 I gathered this lesson both wise and true : 
 "Look to the future, and not to the past ; 
 Live noble lives while your day shall last; 
 Waste not your time in vain regret ; 
 Gather the pleasures before you set ; 
 Life is before you, and not behind ; 
 Turn to its duties with cheerful mind ; 
 Be true to the Right, and with courage strong 
 Deal heavy blows 'gainst the false and Wrong ; 
 That life with peace and joy is crowned 
 In which good deeds alone are found." 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 109 
 
 THE WILLOW AND DEW-DROP. 
 
 Where the sea's rough, foaming billow 
 
 Breaks itself upon the shore, 
 Stood for years a stately willow, 
 
 All alone, and nothing more. 
 Flowers had often bloomed and faded 
 
 In the valley, on the hill, 
 Men were born, grew old and jaded, 
 
 But this willow stood there still. 
 
 When the thunder's chariot rattled 
 
 In the heavens so fearfully, 
 And the winds and waters battled 
 
 Stoutly for the mastery. 
 This tree bowed its head till ended 
 
 Was the anger of the storm, 
 Then, with pride and joy attended, 
 
 Would lift up its stately form. 
 
 But Old Time, who never spareth 
 
 Aught that's lovely, bright, or gay. 
 But with hand, unsparing, teareth 
 
 Beauty from all forms away. 
 Speeding on o'er land and billow, 
 
 Conquering ever more and more, 
 Left, at length upon the willow 
 
 Marks of his displeasure sore. 
 
 As the sunbeams came one morning, 
 
 Dancing lightly o'er the sea, 
 Nature's face with smiles adorning. 
 
 Brightening hill-top, grove and lea. 
 They resolved to stop, as ever, 
 
 'Mong the willow boughs to play, 
 But they wondered much, for never 
 
 Had they seen it as that day. 
 
 There it stood, but half so lovely 
 
 It had never been before ; 
 Scores of gems, clear, bright and pearly. 
 
 Every little leaflet bore. 
 And it seemed while men were sleeping. 
 
 Freed alike from joys or fears, 
 "Night's fair watchers" had been weeping 
 
 And these leaves had caught their tears. 
 And each tiny drop reflected 
 
 Hues of rich and beauteous shade, 
 
110 WAR VERSE 
 
 Which the sunbeams quick detected. 
 As among the boughs they played. 
 
 But the hours passed swiftly, swiftly, 
 
 Higher, higher rose the sun. 
 While the dew-drops vanished quickly 
 
 All of them excepting one. 
 One was left alone, unfriended, 
 
 Save by that old willow tree, 
 From a trembling leaf suspended 
 
 O'er the rough and swelling sea. 
 And as there it hung, lamenting, 
 
 All its bright companions fled, 
 On its own frail powers commenting. 
 
 Thus the little dew-drop said : 
 
 "All alone ! So weak and worthless I 
 
 Of what use can I e'er be? 
 Here 1 am, but frail and useless — 
 
 Nothing's profited by me. 
 On this leaf I made my pillow, 
 
 But I soon must pass away, 
 And the raging, foaming billow 
 
 Will receive me as its prey. 
 
 "If I fall, I fall to perish 
 
 'Mid a mass of waters wild. 
 Which will never deign to cherish, 
 
 Or regard the cloudlet's child. 
 The great sea, so wide and boundless, 
 
 Will roll on forever free. 
 Till its waves grow still and soundless, 
 
 Yet 'twill never notice me. 
 
 "Worthless! Should annihilation 
 
 End my being here to-day. 
 Naught that's in the whole creation 
 
 E'er would know I'd passed away. 
 O! why was I thus created — 
 
 For no purpose — to no end — 
 Doing nothing ! Thus I'm fated 
 
 All the hours of life to spend. 
 
 "Did I but possess the power 
 Of this stately willow tree. 
 
 As it's useful every hour, 
 
 I would strive alike to be. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 111 
 
 Many times and oft, with vigor 
 Hath it battled with the storm, 
 
 While the storm and tempest's rigor 
 Only served to swell its form. 
 
 "With its branches wide extended 
 
 O'er the flowers that grow beneath, 
 Their frail forms it has defended 
 
 From the frost-king's angry breath. 
 Here the song-bird paused and cheerly 
 
 To the breeze her matins flung, 
 And among its boughs securely 
 
 Built her nest and reared her young. 
 
 "On its leaves the dew-drop, weary 
 
 With its journey through the sky, 
 And night's darkness sad and dreary, 
 
 Oft hath laid it down to die, 
 When the sunbeams, coming brightly. 
 
 With the tender leaves to play, 
 Moved with pity, sweetly, kindly 
 
 Kissed the little drop away. 
 
 "O ! there's granted many a blessing 
 
 To this stately willow tree, 
 It will die, respect possessing 
 
 For its great utility. 
 But for me — I soon must perish, 
 
 Fall into the angry tide. 
 Yet my mem'ry none will cherish. 
 
 None will know I've lived and died." 
 
 TIius it spake, and having ended, 
 
 Thus the willow tree replied: 
 "Little friend, be not dejected. 
 
 Cast complaining thoughts aside. 
 Art thou weak? There's nothing worthless 
 
 In the earth, or air, or sea ; 
 Earnest effort can't be fruitless, 
 
 Though the actor weak may be. 
 Art thou small? The mighty ocean. 
 
 Now, so calm — so fearful now — 
 Rolling on in wild commotion. 
 
 Is composed of such as thou. 
 
 "Think'st thou not the little flower. 
 And the blade of grass would die, 
 
 If the drops which make the shower 
 Each should tarry in the sky? 
 
112 WAR VERSE 
 
 Think'st thou earth would look so level}', 
 
 Nature bloom so fresh and gay, 
 If each little sunbeam idly 
 
 In its distant home should stay? 
 No — there's naught so weak and feeble 
 
 But can something do or bear, 
 Naught created but is able 
 
 Help to render here or there. 
 
 "Is thy lot among the lowly? 
 
 Seek their good and be content ; 
 Never think unnoticed wholly 
 
 Can a helpful life be spent. 
 Know there's naught so unimportant 
 
 In the universe abroad, 
 But is watched and guarded constant 
 
 By the great, all-seeing God." 
 
 Longer had thy aged willow 
 
 Spoken in this chiding strain. 
 But the drop had gone ! The billow 
 
 Had received its own again. 
 It had fall'n, expecting only 
 
 To be lost 'mid foam and spray, 
 But an oyster seized it quickly. 
 
 Swallowed it, and went his way. 
 
 Years rolled by ! The little dew-drop 
 
 To a costly pearl had grown, 
 And was placed with gems the brightest 
 
 In a rich and sparkling crown, 
 And Europia's proudest monarch, 
 
 In his state apparel dressed, 
 Wore this crown, in which there sparkled, 
 
 This pearl brighter than the rest. 
 
 Give me one heart that is faithful and bright, 
 
 One love that is true alway, 
 And the battle of life I can bravely fight 
 
 To its last and closing day. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 113 
 
 PREACHING AND PRACTICE. 
 
 In life's varied stations, 
 
 We everywhere find 
 Some strange combinations 
 
 To startle the mind. 
 The good and the evil, 
 
 The false and the true, 
 In fellowship civil, 
 
 Are mingled all through. 
 
 We speak with emotion, 
 
 And earnestness too, 
 And make a commotion, 
 
 'Bout what we mill do. 
 But actions scarce ever 
 
 With talking progress, 
 And rarely, or never 
 
 Reach what we profess. 
 
 'Tis not all in saying. 
 
 Nor all in profession, 
 'Tis not all in praying, 
 
 Nor all in confession. 
 The lips oft may utter 
 
 Words falsely begot. 
 While the prayers that we mutter 
 
 The heart may feel not. 
 
 Profession counts little. 
 
 Words cost but a breath ; 
 And we often find brittle 
 
 The vow which one saith. 
 Some scheme to gloss over. 
 
 Some purpose that's sought, 
 May lead one to cover 
 
 With words the real thought. 
 
 How often to flatter 
 
 Men shrewdly pretend. 
 And compliments scatter, 
 
 In words without end ; 
 From what they say to us 
 
 We can't always tell 
 Just what they think of us — 
 
 Or illy or well. 
 
114 WAR VERSE 
 
 Acts always speak clearer 
 
 Than mere words can do. 
 And bring to us nearer, 
 
 The heart's inner view. 
 Acts bear the soul's impress. 
 
 Coined fresh from the heart, 
 While words oft wear the dress 
 
 Of cunning and art. 
 
 Hence practice speaks louder 
 
 Than preaching or talk, 
 Though preaching walk prouder 
 
 Than practice can walk. 
 And he who'd not slumber, 
 
 'Mid earth's crying needs, 
 Will strive to outnumber, 
 
 Professions by deeds. 
 
 THE PRISONER'S LAMENT. 
 
 You say it's too bad — and I know it is so. 
 
 But it cannot be changed, — that is true ; 
 What's done can't be undone ; the years come and go. 
 But the record that's written must stand there, you know, 
 Whatever we say or may do. 
 
 The sins I've committed ! — I see them all now. 
 They're before me by night and by day. 
 
 And thinking them over, shame mantles my brow. 
 
 And, humbled in spirit, I'm wondering how 
 I wandered so sadly astray. 
 
 The warnings I had? I remember full well 
 
 How often and kindly they came ; 
 They ring in my ears as I sit in my cell. 
 And tell but one story, that I, when I fell, 
 
 Had none but my own self to blame. 
 
 Friends? I had hosts of friends when I started in life, 
 
 And they proved themselves trusty and true ; 
 They gathered around me with counseling rife, 
 And gave me their help 'mid life's battle and strife. 
 But I failed, spite of all they could do. 
 
 I had helpers enough and encouragement strong. 
 
 With a conscience that told me the right ; 
 I should have turned back from the villainous throng 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 115 
 
 That were leading me headlong to ruin and wrong, 
 And banished them far from my sight. 
 
 But no! I went onward and downward, and — well, 
 
 I am here as you see me to-day ; 
 There's nothing to live for but life in this cell. 
 There's nothing to die for — unless it be hell, 
 
 With its torments forever and aye. 
 
 'Tis sad to remember the failure I've made, 
 
 To gaze at a wreck so complete, 
 But saddest to think that I basely betrayed 
 The friends who had helped me, and left them dismayed 
 
 As I sank in disgrace at their feet. 
 
 And so I sit here, in my vileness and shame, 
 
 With nothing to comfort or cheer ; 
 The past showing naught but a vile, blackened name. 
 The future, o'erburdened with sorrow and blame, 
 
 Inviting me onward with fear. 
 
 Oh! God, is there pity in heaven for me? 
 
 A pardon for sin black as mine? 
 If so, let that pity come, boundless and free, 
 And this poor, wretched heart, such a stranger to Thee, 
 
 Feel the grace of Thy pardon divine. 
 
 IT MAY BE. 
 
 It may be but a little thing you're called upon to do — 
 
 To give a smile, a kindly look, a cheerful word or two ; 
 
 To feed some hungry, needy one, or give the thirsty drink — 
 
 Some little thing which men note not, of which they scarcely think; 
 
 And yet if done with helpful thought, with cheerful, loving heart. 
 
 How greatly it may lessen pain, how much of joy impart! 
 
 It may be that you're set to do some hard, unpleasant work. 
 
 At which your pride revolts, and which your comfort bids you shirk; 
 
 Some task you like not, nor enjoy, but which, it's understood. 
 
 Will fill with joy some other life or do Some neighbor good; 
 
 'Tis then your ever-ready hand should push the work along. 
 
 And thus bring good to other souls and crown their lives with song. 
 
 It may be that you're called upon to tread some weary way. 
 Where thorns and briars hedge you in and clouds shut out the day ; 
 Some lonely path which still may lead to some far-distant goal 
 That, struggled for, will much enrich and beautify the soul; 
 
116 WAR VERSE 
 
 How eager, then, toward this goal your steps should ever be 
 'Till won at last, you reap the good, remaining there for thee. 
 
 You may for some disfavored cause be called upon to fight. 
 
 To bear against some mighty foe the banner of the Right, 
 
 To stand alone, with none to help save God who rules on high, 
 
 And take the blows and bear the wounds of wrong's vast company ; 
 
 Yet know that he's the hero who, with courage high and strong. 
 
 Stands firmly at his post and deals such blows as crush the wrong. 
 
 It may be that some heavy .load you're called upon to bear. 
 Whose weight may almost sink the soul in sorrow and despair. 
 While friends and neighbors stand aloof and all your struggle see. 
 And yet with-hold, with seeming care, their aid and sympathy ; 
 Remember that by being firm, with honest heart and true. 
 And bearing freely, bravely, well what burdens come to you. 
 You strengthen many a fainting soul, encourage many a heart. 
 And, by example, to the world a blessing rich impart, 
 While every step leads upward still, and self, with purpose warm, 
 Speeds forward to a fuller growth, to truer, nobler form. 
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 
 
 An editor sat in his ofifice chair, 
 
 Smoking his pipe of clay ; 
 His brow was clouded with anxious care. 
 And his mild blue eye had a steady stare, 
 
 And a look that was far away. 
 
 As he gazed, he saw, in the far-off years, 
 
 A bright and lovely spot, 
 Where the editor dropped his cares and fears. 
 Where the pen lay idle beside the shears, 
 
 And the cry for "copy" was not. 
 
 The day had been filled with vexation and care. 
 
 As ever some days will be ; 
 One thing bothered here and another there, 
 At every turn was a three-fold share 
 
 Of toil and perplexity. 
 
 When he reached the ofilice at early day 
 
 He found it all dirty and chill ; 
 The "devil" was sick and, of course, away, 
 So he built the fire without delay. 
 
 And swept out with old-time skill. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 117 
 
 One job was promised that day at one, 
 
 Another at half past ten, 
 While another still that should have been done 
 The day before, must at once be "run," 
 
 Since the boy was waiting for't then. 
 
 But worst of all, a form, just set, 
 
 Was "pied" in a shocking way, 
 And though another was ready, yet 
 A good impression was hard to get, 
 
 All causing some hours delay. 
 
 'Twas trouble here, and vexation there, 
 
 And a call this way and that, 
 He was needed at once and everywhere, 
 And he had not a moment all day to spare 
 For rest or a friendly chat. 
 
 And midst the worry and bother and all. 
 
 In neighbor Hamline dropped, 
 "Your article on the strike last fall 
 I can't endure, and so I call 
 
 To have my paper stopped." 
 
 And speaking thus, he hurried out. 
 
 Just as Lawyer Smith came in. 
 "I wonder," said he, "what you're thinking about. 
 To raise such a hue and cry, without 
 
 First asking if it will win. 
 
 "You pitch in here and you pitch in there. 
 
 Wherever a wrong may appear ; 
 Don't you know that success you can only share 
 By keepng still, as if unaware 
 
 That wrong is anywhere near." 
 
 Having said his say. Lawyer Smith went away. 
 And quiet came back once more — 
 
 But not for long did the quiet stay 
 
 For neighbor Brown, who was passing that way, 
 Stepped in at the open door. 
 
 "There's White," said he, "just over the way. 
 
 Whose riches cannot be told. 
 He's the meanest man in town, they say, 
 A robbing the poor from day to day, 
 
 And a hoarding up his gold. 
 
318 WAR VERSE 
 
 "You haint any pluck or you'd pitch right in 
 
 And give him a center shot ; 
 Don't you know that the paper that's sure to win 
 Must keep things lively, with racket and din, 
 
 And make them tremendous hot." 
 
 Thus worried, at last he sat himself down, 
 
 Aweary in body and mind ; 
 There was nothing of pleasure his thought to crown. 
 For Fortune had met him with only a frown, 
 
 And a treatment most unkind. 
 
 He'd worn no collar for any man's pay 
 
 During all of the by-gone days ; 
 Whenever he had anything to say, 
 He had spoken out in an honest way, 
 
 Regardless of censure or praise. 
 
 When he came to the strike he spake out free, 
 
 Dealing fairly with each and all ; 
 And, speaking thus, he could not see 
 Why neighbor Hamline so ruffled should be 
 
 As he was, at his midday call. 
 
 He had tried to keep cool in what he said. 
 
 And to raise no useless cry ; 
 But when the wrong reared high its head. 
 And crushed the right 'neath its giant tread, 
 
 He struck is most stingingly. 
 
 As to pitching in, — on a former day 
 
 He pitched in with vigor immense, 
 But a libel suit had come his way. 
 And the thousand dollars he had to pay 
 
 Had taught him a little sense. 
 
 And so all alone, with his day's work done, 
 
 The editor sat and thought, 
 For him luck had but a sorry run ; 
 
 'Twas labor each day till the set of sun. 
 With plenty of curses, and nothing won, 
 
 Save the little his labor brought. 
 
 But sadly at last he rose to his feet. 
 
 Went out and shut the door ; 
 And as he walked slowly down the street, 
 He found in his mail-box, all clean and neat, 
 
 A letter, and nothing more. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 119 
 
 He broke the seal without any delay, 
 
 And read with a hearty cheer : 
 "The Postmaster General writes this to say 
 You're made postmaster this very day, 
 
 And the pay is two thousand a year." 
 
 He looked at the letter, then read and re-read. 
 
 As homeward he wended his way, 
 And his step had a lighter and livelier tread. 
 Fresh joy filled his heart, and he held up his head 
 
 More proud than for many a day. 
 
 And all through the hours of that blessed night, 
 
 His heart beat strong and free, 
 And the dreams he dreamed were exceeding bright. 
 And his pulses thrilled with a strange delight. 
 
 For a postmaster now was he. 
 
 THE POOR MAN'S BURDEN. 
 
 [Rudyard Kipling has written of "The White Man's Burden," and 
 Henry Labouchere has written of "The Brown Man's Burden," and we 
 may be pardoned if we write a few lines about "The Poor Man's Bur- 
 •den."] 
 
 Take up the poor man's burden ! 
 
 Bowed down beneath its weight, 
 His footstep has grown weary, 
 
 His heart disconsolate ; 
 The poor man's load of ages 
 
 He's bearing still today, 
 O ! haste to share it with him 
 
 And make no more delay ; 
 You, who have strength and vigor. 
 
 And seek some work to do 
 To make this life the brighter 
 
 For those who're passing through, 
 Here with these burden bearers, 
 
 And poor of every kind 
 Your work and strength and vigor 
 
 Can full employment find. 
 
 Take up the poor man's burden ! 
 
 You need not go afar. 
 To distant isles and peoples 
 
 With ships prepared for war; 
 
320 WAR VERSE 
 
 Behold ! in town and city, 
 
 About you everywhere, 
 Are thousands, faint and heart-sore, 
 
 Who need your thought and care. 
 You'll find them in the workshop. 
 
 The hut, the mine, the mill — 
 The man, the wife, the children — 
 
 Bearing their burden still ; 
 And sad of face and weary, 
 
 With feeble step and slow, 
 They're bowed beneath their burdens 
 
 And stagger as they go. 
 
 Take up the poor man's burden 1 
 
 With voice of sad despair 
 He cries aloud for helpers 
 
 His heavy load to share; 
 He's weak with over-struggling, 
 
 Weary with over-work, 
 Sinking beneath his burden, 
 
 Yet knows 'tis death to shirk. 
 He asks not much, O, strong ones, 
 
 From out your store of gain ; 
 Lighten in part his burden, 
 
 Allay in part his pain, 
 Lessen in part the heartache 
 
 That makes his life so sad. 
 Bring him some cheer and comfort. 
 
 Something to make him glad. 
 
 Take up the poor man's burden ! 
 
 Let eloquence be strong, 
 Let poetry speak freely 
 
 In potent words of song. 
 Let prose come bravely forward 
 
 With clear and mighty pen, 
 To show the cursed injustice 
 
 Of men's oppressing men ; 
 Let pulpits raise their voices 
 
 Against this form of wrong. 
 Let platforms ring with power 
 
 To help the cause along, 
 Let men of every calling 
 
 And women urge the fight. 
 Until the poor man's burden 
 
 By right has been made light. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 121 
 
 Take up the poor man's burden ! 
 
 Bring to him hope and light, 
 Whate'er may be his color. 
 
 Or black, or brown, or white ; 
 You can't do less than help him, 
 
 'Tis duty now you face, 
 To hesitate is heartless. 
 
 Refusing is disgrace ; 
 Thus working all together. 
 
 Ye strong ones, aid the weak, 
 Help share the poor man's burden. 
 
 Sweet words of comfort speak, 
 So with a noble effort 
 
 To aid him as you can, 
 You'll make your lives worth living, 
 
 Helping your fellow man. 
 
 AIY SCHOOL-DAY FRIENDS. 
 
 O! ye friends of the past 
 Whose friendships outlast 
 All the changes on Life's rugged way, 
 
 I greet you once more 
 
 With love as of yore. 
 Dear school-mates of youth's sunny day. 
 
 What visions arise 
 
 Before my glad eyes ! 
 What faces grace Fancy's bright hall ! 
 
 As with fond, eager look 
 
 I read memory's book 
 Where your names are inscribed, one and all. 
 
 How our lives sped together 
 
 In youth's sunny weather 
 Along the bright pathway of life ! 
 
 How the same buoyant hope 
 
 Lit our young spirits up 
 With visions of happiness rife ! 
 
 In Fancy's wild flight 
 
 We took strange delight 
 In building our castles of air, 
 
 In our day-dreams forgetting 
 
 All worry and fretting 
 And every suspicion of care. 
 
ill WAR VERSE 
 
 The present was ours 
 
 With its sunshine and flowers — 
 Youth's present both joyous and bright — 
 
 And, as girls and as boys, 
 
 We shared in its joys, 
 Drinking deep from the cup of delight. 
 
 The future we limned 
 
 Was never once dimmed 
 With a shadow of grief or of pain. 
 
 While Hope whispered cheer 
 
 To hearts without fear. 
 Enchanting our youth-fevered brain. 
 
 But how many long years, 
 With their sunshine and tears. 
 
 Have fled since that bright, hopeful day ! 
 While we sadly behold 
 Ourselves now growing old 
 
 And hast'ning down life's rugged way. 
 
 O'er the hills of the past 
 
 A long look we cast 
 And seek, with some magical skill, 
 
 For the faces so dear 
 
 That, with love most sincere, 
 Once known, are held dear by us still. 
 
 Where are they? we ask, 
 
 And what's the life-task 
 Which they have been forced to perform? 
 
 Have their years sped away 
 
 Amid sunshine alway. 
 Or been spent amid tempest and storm. 
 
 Answer c^mes from the past 
 
 Where, from first to the last. 
 Rise the forms of those treasured and true, 
 
 And we stand with amaze 
 
 As before our sad gaze 
 They pass us in silent review. 
 
 Some fell by the way 
 
 In youth's hopeful day ; 
 Some perished in manhood's full age ; 
 
 Some, laboring still 
 
 Their task to tfulfiU, 
 Yet linger on life's busy stage. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 123 
 
 Some won a success 
 
 'Mid the throng and the press 
 Of this active and worrying life, 
 
 While some, called to meet 
 
 A crushing defeat, 
 Went down 'mid the tumult and strife. 
 
 Full many with song. 
 
 With hopes high and strong. 
 
 Started out their life-battle to fight. 
 
 But their song has been checked, 
 And their hopes have been wrecked, 
 
 And they lost in the darkness of night. 
 
 What tears have been shed. 
 
 What torn hearts have bled. 
 What agonies racked the wild brain, 
 
 What ambitions hushed, 
 
 What ideals crushed ! 
 'Mid the world-storm of hail and of rain ! 
 
 Here, trouble and care 
 
 Have led to despair. 
 Leaving naught but life's blackness in view ; 
 
 There, those fondly loved 
 
 Have treacherous proved, 
 Breaking hearts that were trusting and true. 
 
 How few of that band 
 
 Have wrought as they planned ! 
 How few gained the object they sought! 
 
 How few reached the height 
 
 Of ambition's delight 
 Or won at the last as they thought ! 
 
 And how many have failed 
 
 Who would have prevailed 
 Had efifort been made the one test ; 
 
 How many gone down, 
 
 'Mid the cold world's stern frown, 
 Who should have been honored and blest! 
 
 But what boots it at last. 
 
 When earth's struggle is past. 
 And we stand at the end of our life, 
 
 Whether greater or less 
 
 Is the so-called success 
 We have won in the world-field of strife! 
 
124 WAR VERSE 
 
 What counts in the main 
 
 Is not what we gain 
 In position, or honor, or wealth. 
 
 But what we acquire 
 
 To make us aspire, 
 To a mental and moral good health. 
 
 The wisdom we store. 
 The truth evermore 
 We struggle with patience to learn ; 
 The kindness we do 
 With hearts fond and true, 
 These count when we reach life's last turn. 
 
 And the good that we will, 
 
 The stern duties fulfill, 
 The soul-growth in virtue's estate, 
 
 The character built 
 
 Untarnished with guilt. 
 These alone make our gains rich and great. 
 
 That's not real success. 
 
 Whether greater or less, 
 Which is won by fair virtue's sad loss, 
 
 And there's nothing obtained. 
 
 With character stained, 
 But is worthless as perishing dross. 
 
 The person, who's stood 
 For the true and the good, 
 
 Been faithful to duty and right, 
 At last will be found 
 With true honor crowned. 
 
 As victor in life's sturdy fight. 
 
 ONE REASON 
 WHY RELIGION DON'T PROSPER. 
 
 You ask me about your religion? 
 
 Why it is not gaining more ground? 
 Why people don't take to it promptly 
 
 And hold to it firmly and sound? 
 Well, I'll tell you in just a minute 
 
 What I think one strong reason is, 
 And I'll make it so plain and pointed. 
 
 That the point you cannot miss. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 125 
 
 The reason is with you Christians — 
 
 The so-called Christians, I mean — 
 The chaps that are loudest at talking, 
 
 But at acting are rarely seen ; 
 The people who pray the longest. 
 
 And shout the loudest "amen." 
 Then go out and rob their neighbor. 
 
 And plunder their fellow men. 
 
 I knew that kind of a "Christian," 
 
 Who at church always took a front seat, 
 And for praying, and singing, and shouting 
 
 Could nowhere and never be beat. 
 At prayer-meeting no one was like him. 
 
 While at teaching a Sunday-school class. 
 His love for poor sinnners went gushing 
 
 With many an ""O!" and "alas!" 
 
 This fellow — a flourishing merchant — 
 
 Thought to sell out his store, if he could. 
 And, by dropping his business, "have leisure 
 
 For doing just dead loads of good"; 
 So he found a chap from the country. 
 
 Who had never or scarcely seen 
 Anything outside of his farming. 
 
 And at "business" was awfully green. 
 
 This farmer had known the "good merchant" 
 
 For many and many a year. 
 Had faith in his "Christian" standing, 
 
 And his piety "most sincere." 
 So he trusted the merchant fully. 
 
 Took "his word just as good as gold," 
 And relied on "his sacred honor," 
 
 As "a saint all safe in the fold." 
 
 But. alas ! he was disappointed. 
 
 For the merchant just took him in, 
 And fleeced him in "regular fashion," 
 
 Like any vile rascal of sin. 
 He charged him twelve thousand dollars 
 
 For a stock worth no more than seven. 
 Then went promptly to church next morning. 
 
 And "sang sweetly of God and Heaven." 
 
 Hard times came on, and the buyer 
 Worked faithfully day by day. 
 
 Doing all he could in the business 
 To make that business pay. 
 
126 WAR VERSE 
 
 But at last he could struggle no longer 
 
 With his hardships, and losses, and doubt. 
 
 So he called on the "Christian" merchant, 
 And told him he wished to sell out. 
 
 And what do you think the good merchant 
 
 Was willing to pay "at a drive," 
 Just two and a half thousand dollars, 
 
 For a stock that was worth over five. 
 And thus the chap from the country 
 
 Was robbed at both ends of the game. 
 While the merchant was chuckling and happy, 
 
 But making long prayers just the same. 
 
 Now, if this sort of loud-mouthed "Christians" 
 
 Will deceive, and lie, and cheat, 
 And swindle a fellow mortal. 
 
 With a coolness so complete. 
 Do you wonder that sinners don't hanker 
 
 For the religion they profess. 
 But treat it with scorn and loathing. 
 
 As a most disgusting mess. 
 
 This chap had trusted the merchant. 
 
 Relied on his "Christian" name. 
 Believed in his word of honor, 
 
 But got swindled just the same; 
 And a man who thus cheats a poor fellow, 
 
 Who trusts him in that sort of way. 
 Is far surer of Hell than of Heaven, 
 
 No matter how loud he may pray. 
 
 Religion says : "Do unto others 
 
 As you'd have others do unto you," 
 Treat justly and kindly your neighbor, 
 
 In all that you say and do ; 
 And your neighbor is any poor mortal. 
 
 Struggling hard 'gainst the world's fierce storm, 
 And a kindness done him is done really 
 
 To "the Master" in his form. 
 
 No ! religion will never move forward, 
 
 Never conquer the world to its way, 
 'Till those who are shouting its praises, 
 
 Live religion day by day. 
 "The Master" taught justice and kindness, 
 
 And actions with "brother-love" fraught, 
 And the only religion the people want, 
 
 Is that which "the Master" taught. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 127 
 
 Profession amounts to nothing, 
 
 While long prayers and a holy mien, 
 Are very much worse than worthless, 
 
 Where good actions are not seen. 
 vSo, if you would have your religion, 
 
 All human hearts to reach. 
 Just get your so-called "Christians" 
 
 To practice what they preach. 
 
 TOGETHER IN SILENCE. 
 
 Alone we are sitting together, 
 
 My faithful, true wife, and I, 
 As the evening shadows deepen, 
 
 And the moments hurry by — 
 Alone by the same old fireside. 
 
 No other mortal near. 
 Our hearts filled with tender emotions, 
 
 And a love both deep and sincere. 
 
 We sit as we sat together, 
 
 Some fifty long years ago, 
 When, as husband and wife, we started 
 
 Our new life with joy aglow, 
 And, as we sit in the silence. 
 
 Under Fancy's magic sway. 
 There comes to our ears the music 
 
 From the far-of? yesterday. 
 
 Some comes with a light-some movement, 
 
 Some comes with a tone of pain, 
 Some with a joyous ending, 
 Some with a sad refrain. 
 And, as we quietly listen 
 
 To the tones of joy or woe, 
 W^e turn the leaves of memory 
 Back to "the long ago," 
 And while we read the pages, 
 
 Written so bright and clear. 
 We live our past life over, 
 
 As we've lived it year by year. 
 
 We joy at the many blessings. 
 
 We sigh at the sorrow and pain, 
 
 We smile at the beauty and sunshine, 
 Grow sad at the cloud and rain 
 
128 WAR VERSE 
 
 Which have come to us so freely 
 To sadden or gladden each day, 
 
 As hand in hand we have journeyed 
 Along our changeful way. 
 
 Yes! we sit alone and in silence. 
 
 For the many, who used to come 
 
 To sit with us by the fireside 
 
 And gladden our hearts and home, 
 
 Have left us — no more to greet us — 
 
 Some scattered the wide world o'er. 
 
 But most have joined the many, 
 On that "brighter and happier shore." 
 
 So we sit alone and in silence, 
 
 For the children we loved and reared. 
 Have said their good-byes sadly 
 
 And from "home" have disappeared. 
 Four — to fight the world's fierce battle 
 Wherever this lot may lie. 
 While two have joined the angels 
 In their "happy home on high." 
 
 And as we go back together 
 
 Over the fifty years' span. 
 We feel our married life ending, 
 
 Just where it once began ; 
 We two, and no one beside us, 
 
 To dwell in "the old home-nest" 
 All alone and unattended, 
 
 'Till we take our final rest. 
 
 But, though sadness chills our spirits, 
 
 As we sit here all alone. 
 There's a joy in thus reviewing. 
 
 The days that have come and gone. 
 For while gladdened now with pleasure, 
 
 And now with sorrow bowed, 
 We know that these days have brought us 
 
 Far more of life's sun than cloud. 
 
 And, as thus we sit in silence. 
 
 Thinking over these long, long years, 
 Our hearts are knit closer and closer, 
 
 Through the memory and the tears. 
 And we feel that whatever befalls us, 
 
 In the years that are to come, 
 We shall be all in all to each other, 
 
 In our quiet and peaceful home. 
 
AN D OTHER VERSE 129 
 
 LET THE DESERVING BE PRAISED. 
 
 What means all this prattle, 
 
 This rattle and tattle, 
 O'er donations from great moneyed men? 
 
 All over the land 
 
 Our praises seem planned 
 For the gifts of the rich "upper-ten." 
 
 When some proud Millionaire 
 
 Gives to charity's share 
 His check for a thousand or so, 
 
 The papers all shout 
 
 And the people cry out — 
 "What a wonderful gift to bestow !" 
 
 But why should we raise 
 
 Our voices in praise 
 Of those who may give a large sum, 
 
 While the warm-hearted many. 
 
 Giving nickel or penny, 
 We pass with lips silent and dumb? 
 
 Have we never yet learned 
 
 That the little — oft-spurned — 
 Is the gift that deserves the most praise? 
 
 That 'tis not the amount 
 
 Of the gift that should count, 
 But the cost to the giver always? 
 
 It is easy for one 
 
 Who has gold by the ton 
 To give largely and freely, and yet. 
 
 If the sacrifice test 
 
 Is counted as best. 
 What measure of praise should he get? 
 
 For let it be known 
 
 That the measure alone 
 Of a gift is the sacrifice — such 
 
 That it costs self-denial 
 
 And makes it a trial 
 To give, whether little or much. 
 
 Measured thus, every time 
 The sewing girl's dime 
 Or the workman's gift pennies, should share 
 As much of our praise, 
 Both now and always, 
 As the thousands from some Millionaire. 
 
130 WAR VERSE 
 
 Moreover we know, 
 
 That many men grow 
 To be wealthy by robbing the weak. 
 
 And that if Right had reigned. 
 
 They never had gained. 
 What they give with so much of pure "cheek." 
 
 For it is a sad fact, 
 Alike true and exact, 
 
 That, while some many millions have got, 
 These millions belong 
 To the great common throng. 
 Who these millions have made, 
 But who were waylaid, 
 
 And robbed by some villainous plot. 
 
 Hence, if Justice were done 
 
 To men one by one, 
 And all had to full brotherhood grown, 
 
 We never would raise. 
 
 Our voices in praise. 
 Of the man who gives what's not his own. 
 
 And be it well known, 
 
 That the gift which alone, 
 The richest of blessings bestows. 
 
 Is not that of mere "wealth," 
 
 But is that of one's self, 
 With a love which true brotherhood knows. 
 
 If the rich were the all 
 
 Who give at the call 
 Of society's many demands. 
 
 It should be our delight. 
 
 And would be only right 
 To praise them as duty commands. 
 
 But we know that the State, 
 
 And the Church, small or great, 
 And society's many affairs, 
 
 Are carried along 
 
 By the great common throng 
 And not by the few Millionaires. 
 
 Hence, our praises should be 
 For the many, as free 
 As their gifts in their lowly estate. 
 While the voice of our praise 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 131 
 
 We should never up-raise 
 Alone for the rich or the great. 
 
 Be praise, then, for the many 
 
 With nickel or penny. 
 Or any small sum they donate. 
 
 As well as for those 
 
 Whose giving bestows 
 But a grain from their golden estate. 
 
 Somewhere it is said. 
 
 In a book we've all read. 
 That a widow's poor mite counted more, 
 
 In the Master's great thought 
 
 Than the much that was brought 
 By the rich from their gold-treasured store. 
 
 LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Only a little smile, 
 
 Unseen by the world's great throng, 
 But it came from a loving heart, 
 
 And was sweet as the sweetest song. 
 Only a moment of life. 
 
 And it passed forever away. 
 While the giver passed on with the crowd 
 
 Of life's ever-changing day. 
 But the smile wrought a goodly work. 
 
 And a sweet benediction had, 
 For, coming amid the world's fierce strife, 
 It cheered and brightened a weary life. 
 
 And a burdened heart made glad. 
 
 Only a little word. 
 
 But 'twas spoke in a gentle tone 
 To the ear of a troubled soul. 
 
 Whence hope had well nigh flown. 
 The sound sped away on the air. 
 
 Unheard by all save one. 
 While the speaker, hurrying by. 
 
 From sight was quickly gone. 
 But the little word lived on 
 
 In a heart under sorrow's sway. 
 Kindling therein a ray of hope 
 Which lighted the weary spirit up 
 
 And brightened its lonely way. 
 
132 WAR VP:RSE 
 
 Only a little kiss, 
 
 From lips of tenderest love, 
 Warmed from a tender heart, 
 
 Seeking its love to prove. 
 With not a word spoken it came. 
 
 But 'twas quick to dispel my fear, 
 And bring to my burdened soul 
 
 The comfort of light and cheer. 
 And so, as I journey along, 
 
 I shall always remember this : 
 That nothing has such a healing art. 
 For an overburdened and wounded heart. 
 
 As a tender and loving kiss. 
 
 Only a little deed. 
 
 But 'twas done with a love sincere. 
 To one of earth's burdened ones. 
 
 In his struggling, sad career ; 
 It took but a moment of time. 
 
 Cost but a little thought. 
 But the doer could never know 
 
 The good which his kindness wrought. 
 Yet the deed had a wondrous power, 
 
 And was worth a world of wealth. 
 For, since from a loving heart it came. 
 And being done in the Master's name. 
 
 It was blessed by the Master himself. 
 
 Only a little flower. 
 
 But 'twas given at love's behest. 
 And I kissed it with silent lips. 
 
 Then hid it close to my breast. 
 But the flower is faded and gone. 
 
 And the giver is long since dead, 
 While I journey on alone. 
 
 With a heart uncomforted. 
 But there is lingering with me yet. 
 
 The fragrance of that sweet flower, 
 While memory calls to mind 
 The giver, so gentle and kind. 
 
 Whose love was my richest dower. 
 
 Only a little hand. 
 That I gently pressed in mine. 
 
 As I sat by the bed of death 
 
 And watched, at the day's decline. 
 
 But that hand I press no more. 
 
 Yet, though many years have fled, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 13J 
 
 I still feel its gentle touch. 
 
 Though my darling child is dead. 
 And, as often I sit alone, 
 
 Through the mists that hang from above, 
 I seem to see that little hand, 
 Waving to me from "the better land" 
 
 A message of kindness and love. 
 
 Only life's little things 
 
 But how thickly they crowd our way, 
 Filling our dreams by night. 
 
 And our thoughts from day to day, 
 Cheering our path with sun. 
 
 On darkening with cloud and rain, 
 Wounding the gentle heart. 
 
 Or soothing its cruel pain — 
 And so whatsoever our lot, 
 
 Whether bright or of cruel strife, 
 We know 'tis the little things alway. 
 Which sadden or gladden our earthly way, 
 
 And make up our mortal life. 
 
 THE KNOWN AND THE UNKNOWN. 
 
 If 'twere not for the "why" and the "wherefore,' 
 
 That puzzle me now and alway, 
 I could reach a more logical "Therefore," 
 
 To the questions arising each day ; 
 But when thought asks for some explanation. 
 
 Seeking only a little to know, 
 I get but this poor consolation : 
 
 "Thus far only, now, can'st thou go." 
 
 "I know not" or "know," in like measure, 
 
 The truth-seekers ever declare. 
 As they grope for some deep-hidden treasure, 
 
 Meeting either success or despair ; 
 For about us hang mysteries ever, 
 
 To limit or darken our view. 
 And, the best we can do, we can never, 
 
 See only a little that's true. 
 
 We may struggle the best in our power. 
 Until aged and weak we have grown. 
 
 We may study each day hour by hour. 
 
 Still the unknown is more than the known ; 
 
134 WAR VERSE 
 
 For the mind, with its utmost endeavor, 
 Can grasp but a trifle of all, 
 
 While the great mass of truth lies forever, 
 Beyond its best vision or call. 
 
 But yet, 'mid the darkness and doubting, 
 
 And mysteries not understood. 
 The little we gain is worth counting. 
 
 Bringing ever some measure of good. 
 While every new truth that we master. 
 
 Adds strength to the mind and the heart. 
 And we know, come success or disaster. 
 
 Truth we once gain will never depart. 
 
 And so we should ever be striving. 
 
 To keep our hearts trustful and strong. 
 Of mind-growth and soul-growth deriving 
 
 Some little while passing along; 
 And, while from each day's fresh endeavor. 
 
 We are cheered by the little we gain. 
 We should trust that in God's long forever, 
 
 The unknown will all be made plain. 
 
 BETRAYED. 
 
 And so he is married ! I thought he would be ; 
 
 Still the news brings a sorrow most deep — 
 He promised so often to marry but me. 
 
 Then neglected that promise to keep. 
 Yes ! I loved him too fondly — I trusted his word. 
 
 As he pledged it again and again. 
 But I trusted too far, for the vows I once heard. 
 
 Have been broken as idle and vain. 
 
 Great God ! 'Tis too true! There lies his own child ! 
 
 How I love it so sweet and so pure ! 
 It certainly seems that this brain will run wild. 
 
 As I struggle to live and endure. 
 But struggle, and live, and endure it I must. 
 
 Though death I could welcome with joy, 
 For none but myself would I venture to trust. 
 
 With the care of my innocent boy. 
 
 He vowed that he loved me again and again ; 
 
 To be mine for all time passing by. 
 And I drank in his words as the earth drinks the rain, 
 
 When the drouth leaves it thirsty and dry. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 135 
 
 He said that our vow reached to Heaven's high seat, 
 That our marriage was registered there, 
 
 That Heaven regarded that marriage complete, 
 As the priest or the law could declare. 
 
 With such words in my ear and with love in my heart, 
 
 I gave to his keeping my all — 
 O ! how cruel the one who could play the foul part, 
 
 Of luring me on to my fall ! 
 How base to deceive with words honeyed and sweet. 
 
 To win with such promises fair. 
 Then spurn the heart won, with a coldness complete, 
 
 As unworthy his thought or his care! 
 
 But the one he has taken ! God bless her alway ! 
 
 She is innocent, trusting and good ! 
 She knew not his baseness, else would have said nay, 
 
 When before her as suitor he stood. 
 She is filling the place that was promised to me. 
 
 While the heart pledged as mine o'er and o'er, 
 She holds as her own. Ah ! true may it be 
 
 And faithful to her evermore. 
 
 To betray the confiding and trusting! — I feel 
 
 Naught is baser or blacker than this — 
 Had he stabbed to the heart with a weapon of steel, 
 
 I had died in comparative bliss. 
 But life now is torture, — a long, living death, 
 
 With a heart torn with anguish and pain ; 
 No light to shine in — no whisper which saith : 
 
 "Thy life shall be gladness again." 
 
 And so I go on 'mid the darkness and tears, 
 
 With only one thought to bring joy: 
 "That perhaps, bye and bye, in the oncoming years, 
 
 I may still have the love of my boy." 
 For having such love perhaps I might learn 
 
 To forget the sad past now and then. 
 While through the dark clouds I might dimly discern 
 
 Some faint ray of sunshine again. 
 
 Thus day follows day and night follows night. 
 
 And the moments go sorrowing by, 
 Bringing only those thoughts which all happiness blight, 
 
 Causing naught but a pang or a sigh. 
 The past has no solace, the future no charm. 
 
 The present naught restful or fair ; 
 If some faint hope arise, some note of alarm 
 
 Changes hope to the gloom of despair. 
 
UQ WAR VERSE 
 
 O ! when will men learn to be honest and true, 
 
 Knowing ever the Right to defend, 
 Being loyal to woman in all that they do. 
 
 Proud to be her protector and friend. 
 O ! when will they cease to betray and to wrong, 
 
 To ruin while promising fair, 
 Standing ever beside her with purposes strong, 
 
 To guard her with brotherly care ! 
 
 LIFE WORTH LIVING. 
 
 They tell me this world is a bad one. 
 This life, with its trials, a sad one, 
 With little to cheer or to glad one. 
 
 Who's trav'ling this earth-journey through; 
 But for me life has had much of pleasure, 
 For I've gathered my share of earth's treasure, 
 And gladness I've had in fair measure, 
 
 So I joy for this earth-life — Don't you? 
 
 They say there is much that is trying. 
 Grave questions our best thought defying. 
 Dark mysteries still underlying. 
 
 Our research — the best we can do ! 
 But some questions we surely can master. 
 Some truth we can save from disaster. 
 Some research can help to move faster, 
 
 I think that is certain — Don't you? 
 
 They point to the sad ones who borrow. 
 No joy from today or tomorrow. 
 But, clad in their garments of sorrow, 
 
 Go sighing and weeping life through ; 
 But I've found that the sun's ever shining, 
 Giving all clouds "a silvery lining," 
 That we can't banish grief by repining ; 
 
 That's how I regard it — Don't you? 
 
 Now and then, might may thrust down the lowly, 
 Vice may conquer the good and the holy. 
 Wrong may walk boldly on and not slowly. 
 
 Spreading ills that are sad to the view ; 
 But remember the good's ever working, 
 Its duty-call not wholly shirking. 
 Pushing on where the wrong may be lurking, 
 
 And I look for its triumph — Don't you? 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 137 
 
 So, despite all the wrong and complaining, 
 The Right, I see, constantly gaining, 
 While many are bravely maintaining 
 
 What to them is the good and the true ; 
 And I hope for a better creation — 
 A new life in life's every station, 
 With a noble and high inspiration. 
 
 Leading all to do right — Don't you? 
 
 Hence, to make the world gladsome and^ cheery, 
 And to banish the sad and the dreary. 
 Push forward, with step never weary. 
 
 To build up the good and the true ; 
 For I find an unselfish endeavour, 
 To mend and make better will never, 
 Prove all ineffective, and ever 
 
 Make life the worth living — Don't you? 
 
 THE HYPOCRITE. 
 
 He was sitting in church Sunday morning. 
 
 At the head of his family pew, 
 And a Sabbath-day smile was adorning, 
 
 That face which all gathered there knew. 
 "Here's a model for church and for Sunday," 
 
 Spake the voice of his saintly pride. 
 While he thought of the coming Monday, 
 
 And his schemes reaching far and wide. 
 
 He joined with the great congregation, 
 
 In that song which all church-goers know, 
 Singing loud with great self-approbation : 
 
 "Praise God from whom all blessings flow.' 
 But, alas ! both the saint and the sinner. 
 
 Who saw his devotion in play. 
 Knew well he was sure to be winner, 
 
 In some villainous game the next day. 
 
 When up rose the morning's petition. 
 
 He bowed most devoutly his head, 
 And to judge from his humble position, 
 
 He felt every word that was said. 
 But his thoughts were kept wondering ever, 
 
 The whole of the universe through. 
 To devise some scheme, cunning and clever, 
 
 To swindle some one that he knew. 
 
138 WAR VERSE 
 
 When came round the Sunday collection, 
 
 He gave with a liberal hand, 
 As though gold formed the bond of connection, 
 
 'Twixt this and the heavenly land ; 
 And yet for his large contribution, 
 
 All knew that some poor fellow man. 
 Would suffer his stern persecution. 
 
 While pushing some rascally plan. 
 
 When the sermon was preached, how he listened. 
 
 Intent to the very last word, 
 And his eyes with a rare brightness glistened, 
 
 As some soul-moving passage was heard ; 
 But the words which were carefully measured. 
 
 By most as for them set apart, 
 And thoughtfully, sacredly treasured. 
 
 Found no place of rest in his heart. 
 
 At length when the great congregation, 
 
 Stood up for the last solemn prayer, 
 His soul, with divine exultation. 
 
 Seemed basking in Heaven's own air, 
 But every one knew that, while seeming 
 
 So true and devoted just then. 
 His worship with falseness was teeming, 
 
 And false his loud-sounding "Amen." 
 
 It is true that sometimes our religion, 
 
 Worn outward and never within, 
 And fitted with studied precision, 
 
 Conceals a large measure of sin ; 
 Hence its dogma and creed to the letter, 
 
 The hypocrite studies alway. 
 Hoping, under the cover, the better 
 
 His villainy safely to play. 
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 
 
 She is waiting alone by the fire to-night 
 
 For her one darling boy to come. 
 While each passing footstep she hears with delight. 
 And her heart beats high and her eye grows bright 
 
 As she thinks he will soon be at home. 
 
 She is aged now, and her locks are grey, 
 And her cheek is furrowed by care, 
 
 For she's plodded along life's rugged way 
 
 Just three-score years and ten today. 
 Working faithfully everywhere. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 139 
 
 And she thinks tonight, as she sits alone, 
 
 Of the years that have hurried by, 
 Of the friends who have left her one by one, 
 Of the husband dear that is dead and gone. 
 And the tears dim her aged eye. 
 
 But the tears are dried as she hears the sound 
 
 Of that step which brings only joy. 
 And she's on her feet, and almost at a bound. 
 She is at the door and is clasped around. 
 By the arms of her loving boy. 
 
 What pleasure there is in that fond embrace ! 
 
 What cheer in that hearty kiss ! 
 And the two sit down by the old fire-place, 
 And talk — while the moments fly apace — 
 
 Drinking deep from the cup of bliss. 
 
 The mother is proud of her boy — a man — 
 
 Grows prouder each passing day, 
 While he seeks only to labor and plan 
 And, with loving heart, to do all he can 
 To cheer and brighten her way. 
 
 God pity that boy who outgrows the need 
 
 Of a mother's tender care. 
 Who turns from her councils and love to feed 
 On the husks of life, and pays no heed 
 
 To her words of love and prayer. 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADE. 
 
 "This world is not so bad a world 
 
 As some would like to make it, 
 But whether good or whether bad. 
 
 Depends on how we take it." 
 Thus sang the man whose earnest plan 
 
 Was, from the dark and tearful. 
 To look away each live-long day. 
 
 To what was bright and cheerful. 
 
 The world is "bad" when we are bad 
 
 And selfish in our action. 
 When there is naught in all our thought. 
 
 But seeks self-satisfaction. 
 
140 WAR VERSE 
 
 If one thinks wrong to all belong, 
 And good is practiced never, 
 
 His morbid eyes see all life's skies, 
 Obscured with clouds forever. 
 
 But when the light with gladness bright 
 
 Reigns in the soul's recesses, 
 The outer life, though one of strife, 
 
 Finds much that cheers and blesses ; 
 For every soul views life's great whole 
 
 In darker shade or brighter. 
 As it has grown to live its own. 
 
 In blacker shade or lighter. 
 
 So, if you care life's sun to share. 
 
 And live amid the brightness. 
 Bend all your will your heart to fill. 
 
 With cheerfulness and brightness. 
 For laugh and smile will serve the while 
 
 To scatter clouds of sadness, 
 And change the night to noonday bright. 
 
 And crown your days with gladness. 
 
 "THE MAN WITH THE HOE" SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF IN 1910. 
 
 [In order to appreciate the following verse, one must read Edwin 
 Markham's poem, "The Man with the Hoe." Mr. Markham represents 
 this man as a typical farmer, leaning on his hoe, discouraged, hope all 
 gone, sad-looking, because his life is one of working and starving, with 
 no prospect of anything better before him.] 
 
 I would just like to know the full meaning 
 
 Of all this loud bluster and blow — 
 Our ears filled with Pity's wide gleaning 
 
 About "the poor man with the hoe." 
 Some tell us he's toil-worn and weary. 
 
 And some he is burdened with care. 
 Chained down to a life dark and dreary 
 
 Which buries all hope in despair. 
 
 "Brother to the ox," say these sages, 
 
 "A slave on stern labor's dread wheel," 
 "In his face the emptiness of ages" 
 
 Which his looks, "stunned and stolid," reveal. 
 He struggles — a stranger to gladness — 
 
 Along the whole length of life's track. 
 Bowed down by his burden of sadness 
 
 And "the weight of the world on his back." 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 141 
 
 Well, I've handled a hoe for a living 
 
 For forty long years to a day, 
 And the best that I've had I've been giving 
 
 To the hoeing that's come in my way, 
 But I haven't found life cursed with sorrow. 
 
 Nor felt I was chained like a slave, 
 Neither feared that each coming tomorrow 
 
 Would bury all hope in its grave. 
 
 True, I've had my full share of hard working, 
 
 And days filled with darkness and strife, 
 But I've found that there's no place for shirking, 
 
 If a man would succeed in this life — 
 I've borne burdens — but all men must bear them, 
 
 Met reverses — but these come to all, 
 Have had sorrows with no one to share them, 
 
 And misfortunes, the great and the small. 
 
 But to claim that I've suffered more sadly 
 
 Than toilers outside of the farm, 
 Is putting the case rather badly 
 
 And working a vast deal of harm — 
 "The man with the hoe" knoweth ever 
 
 That he's not enslaved or trod down, 
 But stands his own master, and never 
 
 Wears aught but a free man's proud crown. 
 
 It is true, I had scarcely a penny 
 
 When life for myself I began. 
 And I was but one of the many 
 
 Starting out here on just the same plan; 
 But all now — to the number of twenty — 
 
 Have, each, a good farm, and we rank 
 With those who have comforts a plenty 
 
 And a little of cash in the bank. 
 
 First, we worked by the month, and then rented. 
 
 Then bought, each, a farm as we could. 
 Paid our debts when the bills were presented 
 
 Till freed from our debts we all stood ; 
 So today we are happy and joyous, 
 
 All having enough and to spare, 
 With no over-work to annoy us, 
 
 And much that is pleasant and fair. 
 
 With our wives and our children to cheer us, 
 With friends who are trusted and tried. 
 
 With churches and school-houses near us. 
 And much social blessing beside, 
 
142 WAR VERSE 
 
 With papers and books, and a measure 
 Of music and song here and there, 
 
 Few people have more of life's pleasure, 
 Or less of its worry and care. 
 
 From our farms, numbering over six millions, 
 We manage each year to obtain 
 
 What, in dollars, approaches six billions 
 In various products and grain. 
 
 And these farms and our stock reach — fair rating- 
 Forty billions of dollars today. 
 
 Yet we farmers, as some have been stating. 
 Are slaving at work that don't pay. 
 
 Moreover, there's great satisfaction, 
 
 If farm life is not always bright. 
 To know that in most of their action 
 
 Our farmers are true to the right ; 
 They stand for the good in the nation, 
 
 The good in the school and the home, 
 The good in all social relation, 
 
 And work for the good yet to come. ■ 
 
 Besides, they rear most of the preachers, 
 
 And lawyers the whole country through, 
 The journalists, doctors, and teachers. 
 
 The statesmen and business men too ; 
 So, if farm life seems somewhat appalling 
 
 To those who give fancy full play. 
 We farmers are proud of our calling 
 
 No matter what others may say. 
 
 Then away with this nonsense and fiction, 
 
 This talk about "burdens" and "woes," 
 Which is all but a base contradiction 
 
 Of what every true farmer knows ; 
 There is no one more free in this nation. 
 
 Has less of life's worry and woe. 
 Gets more for his own consolation 
 
 And joy, than "the man with the hoe." 
 
 Let me have about me ever 
 
 Those I love and who love me, 
 
 And this changeful heart can never 
 Yield to long despondency. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 143 
 
 THE PARTY MACHINE. 
 
 This country is great 
 
 In its combines which rate 
 Their stocks by ten millions or more, 
 
 It is great in its gold 
 
 And its silver untold, 
 Coal and iron in richest of store : 
 
 Great in value of goods, 
 
 In its products and foods, 
 And its resources seen and unseen ; 
 
 But 'tis greatest of all 
 
 For cheek and for gall 
 In the much-noted "party machine." 
 
 The "machine" is the "gang" 
 
 Who help things "alang" 
 And keep politics moving "all right," 
 
 Who have ambitious dreams 
 
 And plan greatest schemes 
 Which give them unbounded delight. 
 
 Both Governors rare 
 
 And Congressmen fair 
 Join hands vi^ith an energy keen, 
 
 Having ever some plan 
 
 To work out, if they can, 
 Through this aptly-named "party machine." 
 
 At the caucus of party 
 
 They appear hale and hearty 
 And plan for "the good of the nation," 
 
 While they labor with skill 
 
 And much of good will 
 For this or for that nomination ; 
 
 Their pockets are full 
 
 With the cash, for a "pull," 
 Which they deal out with smiles all serene, 
 
 While bright are their hopes 
 
 As they handle the ropes 
 Of the "gang-helping" "party machine." 
 
 In convention they meet 
 
 With their numbers complete 
 And their programme arranged in advance. 
 
 And the henchmen all spring 
 
 When the "Boss" pulls the string 
 To take their set place in the dance. 
 
 The people aren't in it 
 
 For one "blessed minit," 
 
144 WAR VERSE 
 
 For the "gang," with an innocent mien, 
 
 Proceed with "gang" tricks 
 
 The ticket to fix 
 
 As planned by the "party machine." 
 
 On the day of elections 
 
 They rally by sections. 
 Their helpers and friends far and wide, 
 
 And these they march in, 
 
 Thus hoping to win, 
 With much of elation and pride. 
 
 They vote every fellow. 
 
 The white, black, or yellow, 
 That money can purchase unseen. 
 
 Or that much of poor rum 
 
 Can make "mellow" or dumb. 
 For the vote-catching "party machine." 
 
 Whence cometh the "tin" 
 
 Which these fellows "rope in" 
 To keep the "machine" on the go? 
 
 When the cash is all out 
 
 Do the "gang" turn about 
 And give their own money, or no? 
 
 Nay the "gang" work alway 
 
 By night and by day. 
 Their own selves from giving to screen, 
 
 While their good "party lash" 
 
 Draws from others the cash 
 For running the "party machine." 
 
 In our State Institutions 
 
 Those "free contributions" 
 Are gathered in promptly, and yet 
 
 'Tis the help that must pay 
 
 (For they dare not say nay,) 
 Five per cent of the wages they get. 
 
 And this money goes in 
 
 To help the "gang" win 
 In ways that are dark and unseen. 
 
 And to make a success, 
 
 Be it greater or less, 
 For this cash-getting "party machine." 
 
 The offices all 
 
 In the state, great and small. 
 For themselves and their friends they demand ; 
 And they rave like all mad. 
 If these cannot be had, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 145 
 
 Vowing vengeance on those in command. 
 
 Yet, if one of their friends, 
 
 While in office descends 
 To practices crooked and mean, 
 
 They "whitewash" the man 
 
 The best that they can, 
 For the good of the 'party machine." 
 
 But while playing this game. 
 
 They loudly proclaim — 
 "We work for the party alway ;" 
 
 And they strut and they swell. 
 
 While they constantly yell — 
 "For the party we'll die any day." 
 
 The people, they spurn, 
 
 And from their good turn 
 With a heart that is selfish and mean ; 
 
 While they help first and last. 
 
 Only those who hold fast 
 To the gang-managed "party machine." 
 
 Yes, for party they shout. 
 
 And they hustle about 
 With much sham devotion and pride, 
 
 And they swear they have been 
 
 Ever true party men. 
 With loyalty trusted and tried; 
 
 But when, all forsooth, 
 
 We get down to the truth, 
 We find all the party they mean. 
 
 Is the little that's found 
 
 Clinging closely around 
 The boss-governed "party machine." 
 
 The "gang" — they are "it," 
 
 And we must all "git" 
 Whenever they whistle us out. 
 
 And whatever they say. 
 
 We must haste to obey 
 Without any question or doubt ; 
 
 We must labor to feel 
 
 While we tug at the wheel. 
 With naught of free will ever seen; 
 
 That it is a great thing 
 
 To be tied by "the string," 
 To this slave-grinding "party machine." 
 
14f) WAR VERSE 
 
 For we're "no party man," 
 
 If we kick 'gainst the clan 
 That run the "machine" as they choose. 
 
 And if office we hold, 
 
 We must do as we're told 
 Or "be damned" if we dare to refuse. 
 
 Who, in office, dares fight 
 
 For his own free-born right, 
 'Gainst a "gang rule," exacting and mean, 
 
 From office must go 
 
 At the potent say so 
 Of this despotic "party machine." 
 
 Shall the voters not, then, 
 
 Resolve to be men, 
 And say to these fellows, "get out ; 
 
 You've ruled us too long 
 
 With your hand firm and strong. 
 Now, we'll just turn the ruling about ; 
 
 We'll take our proud stand 
 
 In the place of command, 
 While you in the rear may convene. 
 
 And we'll show that we can 
 
 Make, his own boss 'the man,' 
 And run our own 'party machine.' " 
 
 THE ONE TRUE "SAW." 
 
 "Where there's a will there's a way, 
 
 Is what some people say. 
 And say it with much of elation. 
 
 They declare it is so. 
 
 For they've tried it, and know 
 That it proves true without limitation. 
 
 But some in this world, 
 
 With banner unfurled 
 And will-power equal to any, 
 
 Move forward each day, 
 
 To conquer a "way," 
 But go down to defeat with the many. 
 
 There's another "old saw," 
 Which some point to as law, 
 And from it much stimulus borrow : 
 "I will find me a way, 
 To walk in to-day. 
 
AND OTHE R VERSE W 
 
 Or will make one when comes the tomorrow." 
 
 Now, 'tis easy to say, 
 
 "I will find me a way, 
 Or make one," but many who've tried it. 
 
 Have labored their best, 
 
 With courage and zest. 
 But the way — they have never espied it. 
 
 We all must admit 
 
 That courage and grit 
 Are needed by saint and by sinner. 
 
 But, in spite both of these. 
 
 And all "saws" strong decrees. 
 Some fail when they think to be winner. 
 
 So, as seems to my mind. 
 
 Of the "saws" all combined. 
 One only fits all kinds of weather: 
 
 "There's many a slip 
 
 'Twixt the cup and the lip" 
 Proves true and correct now and ever. 
 
 THE BEGINNING AND THE END. 
 
 THE CHILD 
 
 Put me in my little bed. 
 
 Tuck the clothes up round my head. 
 
 So I'll have no fear or dread. 
 
 Through the night's long sleeping. 
 
 Now, with thanks for all your care. 
 For the love you never spare, 
 I will say my little prayer 
 
 For Heaven's kindly keeping. 
 
 "Now I lay me down to sleep, 
 I pray thee. Lord, my soul to keep ; 
 If I should die before I wake, 
 I pray thee. Lord, my soul to take 
 Up to Thy home in Heaven." 
 
 Now, Mama, kiss me good night. 
 And I'll close my eyelids tight, 
 Hoping that a morning bright 
 May to us be given. 
 
148 WAR VERSE 
 
 THE OLD MAN 
 
 I must take me to my bed, 
 Four-score years have quickly fled, 
 And I bow this aged head 
 
 To Heaven's solemn warning. 
 Youth and strength have sped away 
 Since, a child, I weary lay 
 Down, with hope, at close of day. 
 
 For a joyous morning. 
 
 "Now I lay me down to sleep, 
 
 I pray thee, Lord, my soul to keep. 
 
 And grant a rest both calm and deep, 
 
 A rest that brings no sorrow. 
 If I should die before I wake, 
 I pray thee. Lord, my soul to take 
 To the land where dawn shall break 
 
 In a glad to-morrow." 
 
 AT REST 
 
 Thus as time rolls on apace, 
 With its ever-changing face. 
 The man arrives at the same place 
 
 Whence the child departed. 
 And, yielding now to Nature's plan, 
 He ends his course where it began, 
 And, having trod life's circling span. 
 
 Lies down just where he started. 
 
 The man and child ! — when day is fled 
 Loving ones by each one's bed 
 Watch till each is comforted, 
 Then some loving, word is said 
 
 At the night's leave-taking. 
 Each lies down sweet rest to share, 
 Each repeats the self-same prayer, 
 And each one trusts some kindly care. 
 
 For a blissful waking. 
 
 There is naught that gives richer pleasures, 
 As we journey toward life's end. 
 
 Then to count among our treasures 
 One true and faithful friend. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 149 
 
 HOPE AND PRAY FOR THE BEST. 
 
 The mother is quietly sitting 
 
 With her baby asleep by her side, 
 While thoughts through her mind are fast flitting 
 
 All about her loved "darling and pride." 
 His future she's carefully planning 
 
 All gorgeous, successful, and blest, 
 And, while fondly that future she's scanning, 
 
 She hopes for and prays for the best. 
 
 The child is all joy as he passes 
 
 Toward his school and again toward home ; 
 No sorrow his young life harrasses. 
 
 No visions of evil to come. 
 His life is free from all sadness. 
 
 His heart by no grief is oppressed. 
 While he basks in the sunshine of gladness. 
 
 And hopes for and prays for the best. 
 
 The youth most ambitiously enters 
 
 The rough road of a business life. 
 While all effort and thought he centers, 
 
 On winning amid its strife. 
 So he pushes along, little caring 
 
 For hardship, or toil, or unrest, 
 And, while showing a praise-worthy daring, 
 
 He hopes for and prays for the best. 
 
 The man plunges into the hurry 
 
 And bustle of worldly affairs. 
 Having ever his share of life's worry, 
 
 And much of its burdens and cares. 
 His courage and push are unfailing. 
 
 His work gives him little of rest. 
 And, while these may prove all unavailing, 
 
 Still he hopes for and prays for the best. 
 
 And when the life-journey is ending. 
 
 And one has little further to go. 
 When the last of the way he is wending, 
 
 With steps that are feeble and slow, 
 When he thinks of the dark-rolling river 
 
 To be crossed at Death's cruel behest. 
 Though his heart with its fearings may shiver, 
 
 Still he hopes for and prays for the best. 
 
150 WAR VERSE 
 
 And thus whatsoever our calling, 
 
 Or howe'er our earth-life is spent, 
 Whether blessings around us are falling, 
 
 Or sorrow and sad discontent. 
 Whether sharing the dark and the tearful. 
 
 Or by some kindly fortune caressed, 
 Our lives will be all the more cheerful. 
 
 If we hope for and pray for the best. 
 
 THE OLD HOUSE. 
 
 Do you see the old dwelling house over the way? 
 
 How sadly it looks now-a-days ! 
 You remember that once, when mere boys at our play, 
 
 We scanned it with wondering gaze ! 
 'Twas a stately old mansion in that early time. 
 
 Where life passed in pleasure and song ; 
 But today 'tis a hovel where vileness and crime 
 
 Dwell together — a vice hardened throng. 
 
 The mansion, then owned by a wealthy old man. 
 
 Was the dwelling of comfort and joy ; 
 His wife and his children, in life's settled plan, 
 
 Found plenty their time to employ. 
 With cofifers well filled, and with generous heart, 
 
 Their bounties were many and free. 
 To the poor ever ready some good to impart, 
 
 To lessen their life's misery. 
 
 The door then swung free to a kind, loving throng, 
 
 The hall voiced the tread of glad feet, 
 The wide rooms re-echoed with laughter and song. 
 
 While pleasure reigned full and complete. 
 But now the door stands half ajar, creaking loud 
 
 As 'tis swayed by the wind to and fro, 
 While each dreary room holds a piteous crowd. 
 
 Their lives dark with vileness and woe. 
 
 A fast-fading relic of .some better day, 
 
 The house stands decaying and old, 
 Its glory departed, and fast on its way 
 
 It is speeding to dust and to mold. 
 The owner cares naught for the vileness that flows 
 
 From the lives of those now dwelling there. 
 But to gather more gold, despite human woes, 
 
 Is his constant and diligent care. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 1^ 
 
 Yes! there stands the old dwelling, with sorrowful face, 
 
 With time-shattered windows and door, 
 With roof poorly patched and with scarcely a trace 
 
 Of the grandeur and beauty of yore. 
 And, as often I gaze on its fast-crumbling walls. 
 
 Whose splendor is now at an end, 
 A feeling of sadness my poor heart enthralls. 
 
 As if I had lost a dear friend. 
 
 WE TWO. 
 
 We had played all the plays that 1 ever knew, 
 And had sung every child-book song; 
 
 I had told all the stories both fairy and true. 
 
 Which fill up the story-books, old and new, 
 And to nursery life belong. 
 
 Then the little one paused in her song and play. 
 
 And, climbing upon my knee. 
 Nestled down in my arms in a loving way, 
 And said, looking up as she quietly lay : 
 
 "G'anpa, duz oo 'ove me?" 
 
 "Yes ! darling, I love you the very best. 
 And I wish I could love you more," 
 
 Then I pressed her close to my aged breast. 
 
 And kissed her cheek with a new-time zest. 
 Which I had never known before. 
 
 Then she closed her eyes and flew full free 
 
 To the land of dreams away, 
 While I thought what "my last of earth" would be. 
 Had this little angel not come to me. 
 
 To brighten life's closing day. 
 
 Yes ! this little one came, with a light and cheer, 
 To my heart, grown weary with strife, 
 
 And she helps me to banish full many a fear. 
 
 Brings laughter in place of the bitter tear. 
 And brightens and sweetens my life. 
 
 So I love such little ones, while they prove 
 
 The richest of blessings given. 
 Teaching ever the richness of pure, true love. 
 And bringing a foretaste of joys above, 
 
 For of such is "the Kingdom of Heaven." 
 
152 WAR VERSE 
 
 THE THREE ANGELS. 
 
 In the years I have thus far spent 
 
 Three visitors called upon me ; 
 Unbidden they came, and unchallenged they went, 
 
 As conquerors lordly and free. 
 I saw their faces, but knew them not. 
 
 As I gazed with these mortal eyes. 
 Yet, they proved full clear, by the good they wrought, 
 
 They were angels in disguise. 
 And I learned to know them at length 
 
 As come on some generous plan. 
 For the blessings they brought and strength 
 
 Have made me a better man. 
 
 The first was the angel of Pain, 
 
 And so cruel and cold was its speech, 
 That I felt there was naught I could gain, 
 
 From aught it could give or teach. 
 Yet it stayed with me night and day, 
 
 And for weeks it would not depart. 
 But the longer it made its stay, 
 
 The gentler became my heart. 
 And at last, when its presence had fled. 
 
 Such a pleasure and comfort were mine. 
 That I promptly and cheerfully said : 
 
 "That visitor's surely divine." 
 
 The angel that came to me next 
 
 Was the angel of Failure — and lo ! 
 At its coming I grew sorely vexed, 
 
 And prayed it to leave me and go. 
 But it turned a deaf ear to my prayer. 
 
 My vexation it e'en heeded not. 
 While I, in the deepest despair, 
 
 Lamented my sorrowful lot. 
 Yet, when it was gone, I grew strong, 
 
 My heart with fresh courage was filled, 
 And I hastened again with new song, 
 
 To engage in the work I had willed. 
 
 At last came the angel of Shame, 
 
 And before it I bowed down my head, 
 
 While it heaped on my conscience the blame 
 For much I had done and had said. 
 
 I knew that it's words were all true. 
 
 That I'd acted unwisely and wrong, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 153 
 
 And I felt that its censure was due 
 
 As it came to me earnest and strong. 
 
 It went — and I labored and prayed, 
 All humbled, my passions to tame. 
 
 And such a good record I made, 
 
 I was glad that this visitor came. 
 
 Thus oft through my many long years. 
 
 These angels have come unto me ; 
 Sometimes they have left me in tears, 
 
 And sometimes in sad misery ; 
 While oft many days I have spent, 
 
 'Ere their message was quite understood 
 Or I could say, with my full consent. 
 
 That their coming had done me good. 
 But I've learned full clearly to see, 
 
 As the months and the years have flown. 
 That little of soul-growth had come to me, 
 
 If these angels I'd never known. 
 
 "THE BOYS." 
 
 The "Boys," as you know, had a party one night. 
 With the old "boys" and young "boys" by special invite. 
 And they made the glad season pass happy and bright, 
 Filling the time with unbounded delight 
 
 Till the wee small hours in the morning. 
 
 They had plenty to eat and plenty to drink, 
 All bought with the "boys' " precious combine of chink, 
 And the "boys" all thought, as people will think. 
 That pleasure is best when you stretch its sweet link 
 To the wee small hours of the morning. 
 
 I'll not tell you of all that was said and was done, 
 Of the speeches they made and the stories they spun, 
 Of the wit, or the jest, or the pith of the pun. 
 But will simply repeat that they had lots of fun 
 Till the wee small hours of the morning. 
 
 The "boy" is a fellow who knows how to jest. 
 And can get from a joke all the cream that is best, 
 Who reaches the acme of pleasure and zest. 
 When he wipes ofif his chin and pulls down his vest 
 In the wee small hours of the morning. 
 
"iM WAR V1':KSE 
 
 He will eat, and will stop when there's no more to eat. 
 He will laugh and grow fat till his joy is complete. 
 Sing a song, tell a story with richness replete. 
 And he fills up the night and will never retreat 
 Till the wee small hours in the morning. 
 
 When the fun is all over, with no more delay 
 He shuts off his nonsense and hastens away. 
 And although he's a "boy," as people may say. 
 He never goes loitering home by the way, 
 In the wee small hours of the morning. 
 
 Then hurrah for the "boys !" Whether many or few. 
 They meet at their club-room in friendliness true. 
 They laugh and they joke, and they never get blue. 
 While their own happy way they're content to pursue 
 Till the time comes for parting and saying adieu 
 In the wee small hours of the morning. 
 
 THE SWINE MAN. 
 
 This is a strange world, and wherever we go 
 We meet with strange people, who rush to and fro. 
 Pushing forward, with zeal, for themselves to obtain 
 Some longed-for advantage, or comfort, or gain, 
 Never thinking of others and having no care 
 About others' rights, or how others may fare. 
 For the Swine-man is ever about. 
 
 We go on the cars, and the smoker we take. 
 And the Swine-man is there without any mistake. 
 And he squirts his tobacco-juice over the floor. 
 Unmindful of others who sit by the score 
 Around him, and wonder why swine are left free 
 To befoul every spot where they happen to be 
 As they wander so freely about. 
 
 We go to the passenger car and we see 
 The male swine, or female, whichever it be. 
 Taking up two whole sittings while careful to pay 
 But for one, and not caring what others may say. 
 Or how many may stand in the aisle half a day. 
 For the Swine-man seeks only his own ease alway. 
 While pushing so freely about. 
 
 On the street car the Swine-man appears in his glory. 
 And shows the swine spirit beyond fabled story; 
 He is vulgar, or loud, or profane in his talk, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE i55 
 
 Or spits over the floor where others must walk, 
 Or he sticks to his seat no matter how many 
 Old ladies or young may be standing. For any 
 But self, first and last, he cares never a whit. 
 If he has a good seat and is master of it. 
 For the Swine-man is ever about. 
 
 On the sidewalk down town we frequently see 
 A group of old men, or of young it may be. 
 All squirting tobacco-juice which, in a mass. 
 Befouls the whole walk, and through which all must pass. 
 Both mistress and maid, for the pool is complete. 
 And all must wade through, or else take to the street. 
 Since the Swine-man is ever about. 
 
 In the evening at home when the husband comes in. 
 Finds fault with his wife, scolds the children like sin, 
 Eats his supper in haste, then rushes away. 
 To the club or saloon, not deigning to say 
 A word of good cheer or of kindly adieu 
 To his wife who's toiled sadly the weary day through — 
 There's a Swine-man that's ever about. 
 
 Or perhaps the fond wife, toiling on day by day. 
 And denying herself every pleasure alway 
 Asks the husband to give her a nickel or so 
 To buy candy or nuts for the children. But, no! — 
 He swears he will not and goes off with a sneer 
 To spend five times as much for cigars or for beer — 
 A Swine-man that's ever about. 
 
 When the union man seeks, with a high, mighty hand. 
 To control all the work that there is in the land, 
 Seeking only his own selfish good to advance, 
 While denying the non-union man any chance 
 To earn a mere living for children and wife. 
 Even daring to maim him or rob him of life — 
 Then the Swine-man is surely about. 
 
 When we see all about us the proud millionaire 
 Forming combines and trusts without any of care 
 Or of thought for his fellows, but pushing, with might. 
 His own selfish schemes, regardless of right. 
 Or of law, or of even the good of the nation. 
 Trampling others to earth for his own elevation. 
 Then the Swine-man is rankly about. 
 
158 WAR VERSE 
 
 And thus in all places the Svvine-ir.an is found. 
 Disgusting all classes who throng him around. 
 Pushing ever along in his own selfish way, 
 Regardless of others or what others say, 
 Grasping all that is best wherever he can. 
 The loath somest being in the shape of a man 
 That ever walks freely about. 
 
 SONG OF THE GOLD KING. 
 
 Yes! there is a good time coming. 
 
 And we'll hail its golden light. 
 When it comes in all its splendor. 
 
 With its reign forever bright. 
 Bringing bounteous stores of gladness 
 
 To the choice, selected few. 
 Such as yet in all the ages 
 
 Human beings never knew. 
 
 When that time shall dawn upon us. 
 
 With its good for us to share, 
 We shall see the worthy Gold King 
 
 And the multi-millionaire 
 Marching onward in their grandeur. 
 
 Like some strong and mighty braves. 
 While the common herd of mortals 
 
 Shall be counted as their slaves. 
 
 Then the few shall hold the purse-strings, 
 
 Rule the land with fullest sway, 
 While the many serve and labor, 
 
 Knowing only to obey. 
 And we'll hear no more the nonsense 
 
 Of equality for all. 
 For we'll hold the rabble level, 
 
 Even though the heavens fall. 
 
 Glorious time for rich and lordly ! 
 
 Trusts and combines everywhere ! 
 Money plenty and abundant. 
 
 For the few alone to share ! 
 And no longer need we bother 
 
 With the low-down, common clan. 
 For the dollar'll be almighty. 
 
 Standing ruler over man. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 157 
 
 Yes! there is a good time coming! 
 
 And 'tis surely almost here. 
 For we see the dawn approaching, 
 
 And full day will soon appear ; 
 All the rich are growing richer 
 
 As we see on every hand, 
 And will soon be lords and masters, 
 
 Over all throughout the land. 
 
 WITH THE DYING YEAR. 
 
 'Twas the last sad day of the dying year. 
 
 As we watched beside her bed, 
 While our hearts were burdened with grief and fear, 
 
 And refused to be comforted — 
 When the angel of death came silently in. 
 
 And bore her spirit away, 
 From this world of sorrow and pain and sin, 
 
 To the world of eternal day. 
 
 We loved her much in her years of strength. 
 
 But more in her sickness and pain. 
 And we labored and prayed that Heaven at length 
 
 Might give to her health again ; 
 But in spite of our utmost care and thought, 
 
 And prayers amid doubts and fears. 
 The angel came and its mission wrought, 
 
 And left us in sadness and tears. 
 
 How sweet was her life ! How lovingly kind 
 
 And gentle from day to day ! 
 She died as she lived, and has left behind, 
 
 A memory we'll cherish alway. 
 No word of complaint — no murmur expressed 
 
 At the suffering and pain passed through ; 
 Those loved her the most who had known her the best, 
 
 For they'd found her both loving and true. 
 
 We mourn her — not lost, but as gone before, 
 
 To dwell with the happy and blest. 
 In that Eden of bliss on that heavenly shore. 
 
 Where earth's weary ones find rest. 
 For when with the "old year" she bade us good-bye — 
 
 The husband, the daughter, the friend — 
 She began "A Happy New Year" up on high — 
 
 A year that shall never end. 
 
158 WAR VERSE 
 
 THE WEDDING ANNIVERSARY. 
 
 The years have sped rapidly by, my dear, — 
 
 The years of our married life — 
 Full eight have passed by since with love sincere. 
 And plighted vows, knowing nothing of fear, 
 
 We started as husband and wife. 
 
 The sun has shone brightly to gladden our way. 
 
 Rarely dimmed by the cloud or the rain. 
 And our hearts have been cheered by the good of each day, 
 While the ill, that dared come, hastened quickly away. 
 
 Leaving little of sadness or pain. 
 
 While we've traveled together but few of the miles 
 On life's journey, among the great throng. 
 
 While we've tested but slightly dame Fortune's weird wiles. 
 
 We have gained much, alike from her frowns and her smiles. 
 To make us more hopeful and strong. 
 
 Our mutual love in those few short years 
 
 Has strengthened and purer grown, 
 While trust in each other 'mid smiles and tears. 
 And respect for each other's doubts and fears, 
 
 Have increased as the years have flown. 
 
 The presence of children has aided to bless 
 
 Our home and to make it bright, 
 And our hearts have grown richer with tenderness, 
 Through their innocent prattle and fond caress, 
 
 And our lives with a purer delight. 
 
 One lesson we've learned as we've journeyed and wrought — 
 
 The richest beneath the sun — 
 That the life with the choicest blessings fraught 
 Is when love links two hearts with a single thought. 
 
 And makes them to beat as one. 
 
 "God bless our home and the dwellers there," 
 
 Is our prayer before His throne, 
 "May he guard our lives by His constant care, 
 And at last in His glory beyond compare 
 
 Accept us as His own." 
 
 The needle is true to the pole, 
 
 The sun shines alike night and day. 
 So the faithful and true-loving soul. 
 Is faithful and loving alway. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 1^9 
 
 REBELLIOUS. 
 
 "Put me off at Buffalo," 
 Kiss me then and let me go, 
 For I'm going to see my beau, 
 
 And am in a hurry. 
 You may fret and you may frown. 
 Shout your anger through the town, 
 You can't break my purpose down. 
 
 So. mama, don't worry. 
 
 Feelings ! — Lay them on the shelf, 
 
 I can take care of myself. 
 
 And can help in earning wealth 
 
 For myself and Harry. 
 So, stop talking — soothe your wits, 
 For 'tis time to play at quits. 
 Since I've got one of my fits. 
 
 And am bound to marry. 
 
 You may like it or may not. 
 One thing must not be forgot, 
 I am ready for my lot. 
 
 For I love him dearly. 
 Harry is my pet and pride. 
 And I'll travel by his side. 
 Be his "bonny, blushing bride," 
 
 His own, most sincerely. 
 
 Talk no more of moments when 
 
 I was loved by all, and then 
 
 Tell me not what might have been 
 
 If at home I'd tarried; 
 For my home I've left for good, 
 Let all that be understood, 
 1 could falter if I would, 
 
 But I will get married. 
 
 The wedding day had come and gone. 
 And other days came swiftly on, 
 Harry proved unkind, untrue. 
 Abused his wife, as some men do. 
 Deserted her and left her, too. 
 
 Alone and unprotected. 
 So now the girl, once proud and vain. 
 Is back at the old home again. 
 Content forever to remain 
 
 With those she once rejected. 
 
560 WAR VERSE 
 
 SEVENTY YEARS. 
 
 How very swiftly the years have gone by — 
 
 The years in their mystic flight ; 
 From some far-off realm in the boundless sky. 
 On the wings of the wind they have seemed to fly. 
 
 To some realm in the darksome night. 
 .\nd while swiftly they've come and as swiftly fled. 
 
 Beyond my furtherest ken, 
 They have left the snows upon my head, 
 Of seventy winters, and to me have said : 
 
 "We will never return again." 
 
 I am sad as I think of these vanished years, 
 
 In whose duties I've had a share, 
 Of the hopes they have blasted, the bitter tears 
 They have caused, and the burden of trials and fears 
 
 They have forced human hearts to bear. 
 I am sad as I think they have torn from my side. 
 
 The many both faithful and true, 
 The stalwart in goodness and manly pride. 
 The strong and the worthy on whom I relied. 
 
 And have left me with only the few. 
 
 And yet very much has been cheering 
 
 In those years as they've hurried by. 
 Very much has been true and endearing. 
 Very few the occasions for fearing, 
 
 Very few for the tear or the sigh. 
 While misfortune has now and then found me, 
 
 And failures I've often-times made, 
 I've not suffered these things to confound me, 
 But have .sought for the good things around me. 
 
 Finding more of life's sunshine than shade. 
 
 True, the days and the months, in their going, 
 
 Have sped at a pace all too fleet — 
 For life's duties have come overflowing. 
 And demands, have been constantly growing, 
 
 Which I've been unable to meet, 
 .\nd the chiefest regret I am feeling. 
 
 As I think of the many years gone. 
 Is, while many, at Right's strong appealing. 
 Stern blows 'gainst the Wrong have been dealing, 
 
 That so much yet remains to be done. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 161 
 
 But during these years, I've been learning 
 
 This lesson of wisdom and light : 
 "To the future courageously turning, 
 And the good and the helpful discerning. 
 
 We should ever prove true to the Right ; 
 While ever with lofty endeavor, 
 
 And purpose persistent and strong 
 Moving onward and upward, we never 
 Should halt or prove faithless, but ever 
 
 Deal blows that shall weaken the wrong." 
 
 Yet I know that, while men have been gaining 
 
 In truth as the swift years have flown. 
 While ever some new good attaining, 
 There is much — very much — still remaining, 
 
 There is much — very much — yet unknown: 
 That, in spite of thought's ongoing stages, 
 
 In spite of man's knowledge and skill, 
 In spite of the wisdom of ages. 
 Whose record fills history's pages, 
 
 This life is a mystery still. 
 
 And so, while I'm calmly reviewing. 
 
 The record of seventy years, 
 I pray that, the Right still pursuing 
 And devotion to duty renewing, 
 
 I may have for the future no fears; 
 That during the days yet remaining. 
 
 While searching for wisdom and light, 
 I may strive for the constant attaining, 
 Of higher ideals and for gaining 
 
 Fresh knowledge of duty and Right. 
 
 THE FITTEST LIFE. 
 
 This life is full of mystery — 
 
 Its future, present, past— 
 We know not whence we came at first, 
 
 Or where we go at last. 
 Within, without, both here and there, 
 
 A thousand things we see. 
 Whose secrets we would know, but find 
 
 They're wrapped in mystery. 
 
162 WAR VERSE 
 
 We wonder at the bitter war, 
 
 Between the Right and Wrong. 
 The poor down-trodden by the rich. 
 
 The weak ones by the strong. 
 Man wronging man with base intent 
 
 And fiendish cruelty, 
 When, if all men are brothers true, 
 
 Such things should never be. 
 
 Some struggle 'gainst unnumbered ills. 
 
 Misfortune and distress, 
 While some know only richest joys, 
 
 Which come their lives to bless ; 
 Some groan beneath their load of grief. 
 
 In poverty and pain. 
 While some have every luxury, 
 
 Bought with ill-gotten gain. 
 
 The few have more than they can use, 
 
 While many, here and there. 
 Go hungry, or perhaps may starve. 
 
 For all the few may care. 
 And yet these hungry, starving ones. 
 Lost 'mid the world's advance, 
 Would prove the equals of the few. 
 
 If given once a chance. 
 
 In learning's walks, invention's realm. 
 
 Or riches' proud domain. 
 Wherever men grow prominent, 
 
 Or high position gain, 
 There we would find these humble ones, 
 
 From slums and low estate, 
 If they had had an equal chance 
 
 With those we call "the great." 
 
 Just why these evils come to some, 
 
 To grieve or break the heart, 
 While others live their lives in joy, 
 
 From every ill apart ; 
 Why some have all, while some have naught. 
 
 Under some strange command, 
 But life in poverty and rags, 
 
 We cannot understand. 
 
 But though we cannot understand — 
 
 We know all lives can be 
 Made happy, beautiful and bright, 
 
 By warm philanthropy— 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 163 
 
 By all men learning that 'tis true, 
 
 In working out life's plan, 
 The fittest life that can be lived. 
 
 Is when man lives for man. 
 
 Man is the only sacred thing, 
 
 That man has e'er descried ; 
 For him the earth was made and all 
 
 He's known or had beside. 
 No principles, no precepts rare, 
 
 No dogmas ever can 
 Be held as sacred only as 
 
 They help to better man. 
 
 Thus speak we when we only speak. 
 
 Of what we really know, 
 And lay imaginings aside. 
 
 Away conjectures throw; 
 For, measured by our widest search, 
 
 Our most extensive thought, 
 Man is the highest, noblest work 
 
 Creation ever wrought. 
 
 Yes! It is true: Creation left 
 
 Its highest seal on man. 
 And crowned him with a nobleness. 
 
 The grandest in its plan. 
 Hence man stands up in dignity, 
 
 The noblest thing we find. 
 In all the range of human thought. 
 
 Of every form or kind. 
 
 Man is so sacred he who wrongs 
 
 The humblest of his race. 
 In thought, or word, or deed, should have 
 
 No high regard or place ; 
 While he, who works for human good 
 
 By doing right to all, 
 Should be advanced to highest place 
 
 Whence there is no recall. 
 
 For well we know earth's lowly ones 
 
 Oft reach the highest place 
 When once they're given a helping hand 
 
 In life's competing race. 
 While woe and poverty are changed 
 
 To comfort and delight 
 When brother love gives brother aid 
 
 With brother cheer and light. 
 
164 WAR VERSE 
 
 Hence he, who works for human good. 
 
 Both helps to banish wrong 
 And grows himself, in character. 
 
 The noble and the strong. 
 And, by his living brother love. 
 
 With dogmas unperplexed. 
 Can rest assured that Heaven is his 
 
 Both in this world and next. 
 
 A MORNING PRAYER. 
 
 Now I rise from Night's sweet rest 
 I pray thee, Lord, I may be blest 
 With wisdom all my work to plan 
 And help to do it like a man. 
 Seeking with thought and deed correct 
 To make my work without defect. 
 And having will and strength to do 
 Whatever is right and good and true 
 
 WORD AND DEED PRAYER. 
 
 The prayer of word is often vain ; 
 It works no good and brings no gain ; 
 But prayer of deed we know is sure 
 To cheer, to comfort and to cure. 
 
 We talk of love and sympathy, 
 We pray our neighbor blest may be. 
 But we must put these things in deed- 
 To cheer the faint — the hungry feed. 
 
 Mere words are cheap, and little cost, 
 Take wings and fly — are quickly lost, 
 But deeds cost eflfort — sacrifice — 
 Live ever — are beyond all price. 
 
 We pray the Lord will kindly care 
 For all the poor whose means are spare 
 And then we think our duty done — 
 That God will care for every one. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 165 
 
 But better far and Christ-like more 
 To seek the poor from door to door — 
 To feed and clothe and help them, too, 
 To some fit work that they can do. 
 
 Hence when some deed is to be wrought 
 That you can do and that you ought. 
 Go — tackle it without delay 
 And never stop, in word, to pray. 
 
 The deed will ever work its will, 
 Its gracious mission to fulfill. 
 And, once 'tis done, if done in love, 
 'Tis all that's asked by God above. 
 
 No matter how-so-much we pray 
 That this or that be done straightway, 
 God rarely does or sends some one 
 To do the deed we should have done. 
 
 The deed-prayer always does its share 
 To brighten life or lessen care. 
 And though its voice may not be heard, 
 'Tis better far than prayer in word. 
 
 We have too much of mere word prayer. 
 Too little deed-prayer everywhere ; 
 So, if you'd lessen human need. 
 Pray less in word and more in deed. 
 
 Be active, whatsoe'er your gift. 
 To cheer the poor and to uplift. 
 For Christ says both to me and thee, 
 "If done to these, 'tis done to Me." 
 
 "THAT BRIGHTER AND HAPPIER DAY." 
 
 You say you are foot-sore and weary. 
 
 Your journey's been rough and severe, 
 You've traveled o'er mountains and valleys. 
 
 Both desolate, rugged and drear ; 
 The road has been rocky — uneven — 
 
 You've suffered from hunger and cold, 
 While mishaps and ills have come to you 
 
 In numbers that cannot be told. 
 But cheer up ! Somewhere in the future. 
 
 And sometime in some goodly way 
 You'll joy, for you'll come to discover 
 
 "That brighter and happier day." 
 
166 WAR VKKSE 
 
 You say that your friends have turned backward, 
 
 And left you to journey alone, 
 Have censured and sometimes reviled you, 
 
 "For bread given only a stone." 
 Your load has been heavy and painful, 
 
 Too great for your shoulders to bear, 
 And frequently night-fall has found yon 
 
 The victim of grief and despair. 
 But never give up, for there's somewhere, 
 
 A better and less rugged way. 
 Which, found and then followed, will lead to 
 
 "That brighter and happier day." 
 
 You say that your plans have miscarried. 
 
 Some other your work has outdone, 
 You've met but defeat and disaster 
 
 When victory should have been won ; 
 In summing up all that has helped you 
 
 And all that you've been favored in. 
 You feel you have made a sad failure 
 
 When counted with what "might have been; 
 But oft-times to fail after struggle 
 
 Is victory won in life's fray. 
 And of credit will get its due share in 
 
 "That brighter and happier day." 
 
 You are sad at the wickedness raging — 
 
 The wrongs done by man unto man, 
 The greed, where the strong through injustice, 
 
 Rob and plunder whenever they can ; 
 The weak, by the proud arms of power. 
 
 Wielded hither and thither in might. 
 Crushed down ever lower and lower 
 
 And robbed of all justice and right. 
 But be not discouraged! Injustice 
 
 And wrong will not flourish alway. 
 For Right will rule all when we come to 
 
 "That brighter and happier day." 
 
 We all, now and then, must grow weary. 
 
 Must tread a road rough and severe. 
 Must suffer from cold and from hunger. 
 
 From mishaps devoid of all cheer ; 
 But the bitter will oft turn to sweetness, 
 
 Life's pains oft come only to bless, 
 While bearing great loads helps develop 
 
 The best which our natures possess. 
 
AND OTHE R VERSE 167 
 
 Hence 'tis wise to be hopeful and cheerful 
 
 No matter how rugged the way, 
 For thus will we Teach all the sooner 
 
 "That brighter and happier day." 
 
 The present is ours to determine — 
 
 To will what our future shall be, 
 To plan and to work out certain measures 
 
 For shaping our life's destiny. 
 If these measures, worked out, tend to evil. 
 
 The world is made worse by our life, 
 While for us it were better if never 
 
 We'd entered earth's bustle and strife — 
 But, if we work out worthy measures. 
 
 Our life helps our fellows alway, 
 While we grow till we share in the joys of 
 
 "That brighter and happier day." 
 
 WEDDED THIRTY-FIVE YEARS. 
 
 Have you forgotten (I know you'll say nay), 
 
 'Mid the care and worry of life, 
 That 'tis thirty-five years — thirty-five today — 
 
 Since you became my wife? 
 How time rushes on ! How hurriedly by 
 
 The on-rolling seasons have sped 
 
 Since we stood at the altar — you and I — 
 
 And were quietly, happily wed. 
 
 We were then both hopeful, trusting and strong, 
 
 And the current of life's fresh blood 
 Swept boundingly on our young veins along 
 
 In an ever-refreshing flood. 
 The life before us was all untried, 
 
 But was lighted by Hope's bright ray. 
 And we trusted that, journeying side by side. 
 
 We might find it one cloudless day. 
 
 How happy we were and what plans we laid 
 
 Whose endings we could not see. 
 While we talked of a future without a shade 
 
 And of things that were not to be. 
 The paths that we marked for our joyous feet 
 
 Were smooth and cheerful with light, 
 And we thought to move forward only to meet 
 
 With years that were happy and bright. 
 
1C8 WAR VERSE 
 
 Now thirty-five years of that wedded life 
 
 Are closing for us today 
 And the grating noise of their din and strife 
 
 Is passing forever away. 
 Yet during those years a mutual love 
 
 Has cheered us in sunshine and shade, 
 While a Father's hand, from his home ahove, 
 
 Has sent us all needed aid. 
 
 Of the rough and rugged we've had our share, 
 
 Our share of the storm and cloud. 
 We've often grown weary with watching and care, 
 
 And with sorrow our hearts have been bowed : 
 But amid it all we have stronger grown. 
 
 Less selfish our hearts have been made, 
 And counting up all the years that have flown 
 
 There has been more of sun than of shade. 
 
 With these thirty-five years of wedded life gone 
 
 But few for us yet can remain, 
 And these will pass quickly as others have done 
 
 With their measure of pleasure and pain — 
 But while together permitted to live 
 
 We'll labor and hope for the best, 
 Drawing closer in love with what love can give. 
 
 Then hopefully pass to our rest. 
 
 THE FINAL GOOD-NIGHT. 
 [To My Wife.] 
 
 When the word of farewell has been spoken at last 
 
 And the final goodnight has been said. 
 When the earth-ties are broke that have bound me so fast 
 
 And I sleep the la.st sleep of the dead — 
 Don't sorrow as one with heart, broken and sore, 
 
 With features grief-ladened and wan. 
 But joy for, while here you may see me no more, 
 Somewhere, on some happy and beautiful shore. 
 
 I shall live everlastingly on. 
 
 Don't think of me lifeless and laid in the grave — 
 
 A soul that shall nevermore live — 
 A friend you regret you were helpless to save 
 
 For earth and what earth has to give — 
 But think of me living and happy and blest, 
 
 Growing stronger and stronger in good, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 169 
 
 Moving onward and upward toward that which is best, 
 The unknown exploring with pleasure ^nd zest, 
 Learning truth I had ne'er understood. 
 
 This earth-house I've lived in for many a year 
 
 And which I have counted my own, 
 Whose welfare I've guarded 'mid hope and 'mid fear, 
 
 As stronger or weaker it's grown — 
 You'll bear it away to its last resting place 
 
 And leave it beneath the green sod. 
 But remember that I, in some region of space, 
 A soul, born immortal, through Nature's free grace. 
 
 Live on as immortal as God. 
 
 Let the picture you paint for your Memory's Hall 
 
 Be correct and according to life. 
 Bring out the hard struggle, defeat and the fall. 
 
 With the scars I received in the strife — 
 I'd have it set forth all that's true of the facts 
 
 In the life you have known me to live, 
 Not covering up any wrong in my acts. 
 Portraying the good but as justice exacts, 
 
 Seeking only the full truth to give. 
 
 The life yet to come I know nothing about 
 
 And can only surmise what 'twill be. 
 Of one thing, however, there can be no doubt : 
 
 I shall long for your presence with me. 
 My days may be cheered with the sweetest employ. 
 
 Bliss come with abundance of cheer. 
 But my heart will be robbed of the richest of joy, 
 My pleasure be mixed with a sadd'ning alloy. 
 
 If I know not the friends I love here. 
 
 Whatever I am or wherever I be 
 
 I'll forget not our long wedded life. 
 Our sorrows and joys and what you've been to me 
 
 As counsellor, helper and wife. 
 And, if in your future, some ill should betide. 
 
 Or sorrow's dark cloud should appear, 
 I'll summon the swiftest of angels as guide 
 And will speed on the wings of the light to your side 
 
 To aid and to comfort and cheer. 
 
 If some little word I have spoken somewhere. 
 
 Or some little deed I have done. 
 Or some little song I have breathed on the air 
 
 Has a place in your memory won — 
 
170 WAR VERSE 
 
 Just treasure it fondly from day unto day 
 
 And let it dispel every thought 
 Of any unkindness you've seen me display 
 To sadden your heart or to darken your way, 
 
 Or any misdeed I have wrought. 
 
 While the best of my thoughts will be centered on thee, 
 
 My heart will be brightened and cheered 
 As I know on this earth you are thinking of me 
 
 Not lost, but from sight disappeared. 
 And be sure I will watch and will longingly wait 
 
 Till your "life's fitful fever is o'er," 
 Then will greet you with love at "the beautiful gate" — 
 A love that's but known in the Heavenly state — 
 
 Where parting shall be nevermore. 
 
 IF THE SPIRIT IS CHEERFUL AND BRIGHT. 
 
 This life is both changeful and busy, 
 
 With the work that we all have to do, 
 With the plans that are laid for the morrow, 
 
 And the worries we all must pass through ; 
 But the plans will be laid far more easy, 
 
 The work grow a vast deal more light, 
 And the worries, though great, mostly vanish, 
 
 If the spirit is cheerful and bright. 
 
 Misfortune may often assail us. 
 
 Disaster may oft overtake, 
 Or failure may rise in our pathway 
 
 And make futile the efforts we make ; 
 But misfortune's keen sting proves less harmful. 
 
 Less dreaded disaster's strong might, 
 While failure will lose half its terror, 
 
 If the spirit is cheerful and bright. 
 
 We groan underneath the huge burdens 
 We are called on so often to bear, 
 
 Grow weary when forced the rough highway 
 To tread, with sore heart, here or there ; 
 
 But the highway, though rough, becomes smoother. 
 The burdens change form and grow light, 
 
 While we're made much the stronger for duty, 
 ■ If the spirit is cheerful and bright. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 171 
 
 Sometimes the grim ghost of past errors 
 
 Will into some strange being start, 
 And will waken the saddest of mem'ries 
 
 To grieve and to burden the heart ; 
 But the mem'ries and ghost prove but trifles 
 
 When, resolved to do only the Right, 
 We turn from the past to the future 
 
 With a spirit that's cheerful and bright. 
 
 Oft-times all about us is darkness, 
 
 Not a star in the heavens appears, 
 Fate laughs as we stand undecided, 
 
 Our hearts filled with doubts and with fears 
 But the darkness will seem far less fearful, 
 
 Hope whisper some word of delight, 
 If we trust to the right and move forward 
 
 With a spirit that's cheerful and bright. 
 
 And so whatsoever the changes 
 
 Or sorrows that darken our day. 
 Whatever misfortunes befall us. 
 
 Or failures, to roughen our way ; 
 O'er the past we should nevermore worry 
 
 Though mem'ry will keep it in sight. 
 But face, with firm purpose, the future. 
 
 With a spirit that's cheerful and bright. 
 
 "WANTING WHAT IS NOT." 
 
 "As a rule a man's a fool, 
 When it's hot he wants it cool, 
 When it's cool he wants it hot. 
 Always wanting what is not." 
 
 — Anonymous. 
 
 COMMENT. 
 
 The man who wrote these words had not 
 
 A vast amount of wisdom got, 
 
 For never wanting what is not 
 
 Man ne'er had gotten what he's got, 
 
 Nor can he e'er improve his lot 
 
 Except by wanting what is not 
 
 Which proves that some at least have not. 
 
 In working out their earthly lot, 
 
 Gone all astray and foolish got. 
 
 Because of wanting what is not. 
 
172 WAR VERSE 
 
 Hence every man who's not a sot, 
 Or manhood has that's worth a dot, 
 Or would escape obHvious blot 
 Is always wanting what is not. 
 And pushing forward to the spot 
 Where, in some palace grand, or cot, 
 He fondly dreams there can be got 
 The wanted thing which he has not. 
 And when he thinks he sees the what 
 That will improve his present lot 
 Or help him on — all else forgot — 
 He rushes to secure that "what," 
 Although 'tis something he has not. 
 
 E'en should he fail to find that "what," 
 He don't give up and mourn his lot. 
 But through the brain that he has got 
 Wakes up invention on the spot. 
 And quick creates the thing that's not. 
 And thus he learns good can be got 
 What is be changed to a better what. 
 And Heaven be gained, that brighter spot. 
 Only by wanting what is not. 
 
 Then praise the man who wanteth what 
 
 In his earthly career he has never got 
 
 And who has the courage to plan and plot 
 
 And work for the thing that will better his lot, 
 
 Will bring him more good which he has not got 
 
 And will help him to reach that blessed spot. 
 
 Where worries and cares are all forgot 
 
 And happiness reigns which Hell's foul plot 
 
 Can never mar by stain or blot. 
 
 For all good things that men have got 
 
 To brighten their lives and ease their lot — 
 
 To better conditions in any cot 
 
 Or palace grand, are due to what 
 
 Men g©t by wanting what is not. 
 
 IF ONE COULD LIVE ON. 
 
 If one could live on for some thousands of years 
 In this world where he lives but a few. 
 
 And have no misgivings or doubtings or fears 
 
 About strength that would carry him through 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 173 
 
 If sure of good health of both body and mind 
 
 And vigor to will and to plan, 
 How many wise ways he would readily find 
 
 Whereby to be helpful to man. 
 
 This life is so short, as we mortals all know, 
 
 Its years go so rapidly by, 
 That we can scarcely learn how to live it, when lo ! 
 
 We are forced to surrender and die. 
 The experience we've had, the lessons we've learned, 
 
 The knowledge we've managed to gain, 
 Which would help us so greatly, if properly turned. 
 
 For this earth by death are made vain. 
 
 If we could begin where we end this frail life 
 
 When death takes us, aged, away. 
 With all the equipments we've gained in the strife 
 
 That's engaged us for many a day. 
 How grandly and nobly and well we could live. 
 
 What improvements could make in our ways, 
 How richer and better a service could give 
 
 To the world that needs service always. 
 
 Having learned what is best, by life's much varied test. 
 
 In thought and in word and in deed, 
 What brings richest gain, what banishes pain. 
 
 And meets all humanity's need, 
 We'd be careful to shun all the wrong we have done 
 
 As we went here and there day by day. 
 And would labor to do what was helpful and true 
 
 To all that we met on the way. 
 
 The harsh word that we spoke, the heart we most broke, 
 
 The tear that we called to the eye. 
 The wrong that we'd wrought for some gain that we sought, 
 
 Causing heartache and many a sigh. 
 Would all be unknown in that life where we'd grown 
 
 To be true to the Right everywhere 
 And to make our employ bring but brightness and joy 
 
 To all that we met here and there. 
 
 There is so much to do all our social life through 
 
 To change and make better and heal, 
 Great ills to repress, great wrongs to redress, 
 
 Great reforms making earnest appeal. 
 The poor to lift up with encouraging hope, 
 
 The hungry to care for and feed. 
 The lives sad and drear to comfort and cheer, 
 
 The many to help in their need. 
 
174 WAR VERS E 
 
 Here the cruel and strong are working the wrong, 
 
 Oppressing and robbing the weak, 
 There are those who for greed are paying no heed 
 
 To aught but the thing that they seek. 
 And the selfish who know but to labor that so 
 
 The end that they seek they may gain, 
 All working their will with the greatest of skill, 
 
 Causing millions but suffering and pain. 
 
 All of these things appeal to the one who can feel 
 
 And is anxious his kind to befriend 
 And make him to long with a feeling that's strong 
 
 For an earth-life that never will end. 
 For there's so much to do that, if once carried through, 
 
 He knows would be helpful to man, 
 That he wants on to live with a hand free to give 
 
 And a heart to aid all that he can. 
 
 It makes us feel bad and our hearts to grow sad 
 
 When we think that the end of Earth's day 
 O'ertakes us when best we are fitted to test 
 
 Our strength and our worth in life's fray. 
 We have gathered so much from Experience's touch, 
 
 As we've felt it in days that have gone. 
 That would help us to live and a rich service give 
 
 To mankind, that we want to live on. 
 
 So, if one could but live for some thousands of years 
 
 In this world where he lives but a few, 
 What a change he might make from lives saddened with tears 
 
 To lives that are bright, good and true. 
 The mistakes he once made he'd avoid and would grade 
 
 His life for this highest degree: 
 That he'd seek to do good wheresoever he could 
 
 And to all whosoever they be. 
 
 "OVER THERE." 
 
 I am hoping to meet them at some future time — 
 
 The friends I have known here below. 
 Who have passed from this earth to that heavenly clime 
 
 Where life never-ending they know. 
 What a happy re-union 'twill be "Over There," 
 
 When, meeting each other again, 
 We'll renew our acquaintance and happily share 
 
 In the friendships we know will remain. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 175 
 
 There's the father I loved and who fondly loved me, 
 
 Who gave me his tenderest care 
 During youth's early years and who labored to see 
 
 That I had of life's ills a small share; 
 And the mother, the truest and dearest of all 
 
 The friends that my youthful days knew, 
 Who gave of her strength and her time, at Love's call, 
 
 To guide me in ways right and true. 
 
 There are brothers I played with in youth's early day. 
 
 Whose company brought me delight 
 \nd helped both to smoothe and to gladden my way 
 
 And make it both pleasant and bright. 
 There's the sister who opened most kindly her home 
 
 And asked me its comforts to share 
 When Death, on its hard-hearted mission, had come 
 
 And my parents had borne "Over There." 
 
 Many friends are there, too, whom I've traveled beside 
 
 As they made their life-journey on earth, 
 And whom, knowing full welt; I had found "true and tried" 
 
 And possessed of a genuine worth. 
 As we shared in our mutual sorrow and joy, 
 
 Knew each other in sunshine and shade, 
 Our friendship grew strong, having naught of alloy, 
 
 And true so it never can fade. 
 
 But chiefest and dearest and richest in thought 
 
 Are the children I hope there to meet — 
 Those dear ones whose coming to earth to me brought 
 
 A joy that was tender and sweet, 
 How fondly I loved them ! What pleasure 'twill be 
 
 To greet them again "Over There." 
 While Heaven will be made all the brighter for me. 
 
 If their presence once more I can share. 
 
 What a joy "Over There" to talk over the past 
 
 With the friends I have met on my way, 
 The failures we made and Fortune's rude blast 
 
 That we faced for full many a day; 
 The sorrows and joy, the pleasure and pain. 
 
 The darkness as well as the light, 
 The crushing defeat or the worthy-earned gain, 
 
 Which made our lives cheerless or bright. 
 
 We will talk of the friends that were faithful and true. 
 Their words that brought help and good cheer, 
 
 Their deeds here and there that assisted us through 
 The days that were ^ismal and drear. 
 
176 WAR VKRSE 
 
 We will tell of the sorrow when, one after one, 
 We followed these friends to the tomb, 
 
 And how thickly clouds gathered, enshrouded life's sun 
 And wrapped us in darkest of gloom. 
 
 Together we'll walk through that land "Over There," 
 
 And view every rich, cheering sight. 
 While together its glories and beauties we'll share 
 
 With ever-increasing delight. 
 But amid all this grandeur we'll never forget 
 
 The earth and its happy, bright days, 
 When pleasure and gladness before us were set. 
 
 Bringing joy in their many kind ways. 
 
 Yes, I'm hoping to meet all these loved ones again 
 
 "Over There," where the weary find rest. 
 Where the loves of this earth will be freed from all stain 
 
 And be deepened and hallowed and blest. 
 And I'm hoping much better to know those I meet 
 
 Than I knew them on earth here below 
 And, knowing them thus, that our friendship more sweet 
 
 And richer will evermore grow. 
 
 For, if "Over There," where we mortals all go 
 
 When this earth-life has come to an end. 
 The loved ones, known here, we there shall not know. 
 
 And friend shall not recognize friend, 
 That land will have little attraction for me, 
 
 Though angels its beauties proclaim, 
 And its brightness and pleasures most meager will be 
 
 Though Heaven be its all-charming name. 
 
 ONE MORE CHANCE. 
 
 There's a place in the past — in my own distant past — 
 
 I remember with fondest delight, 
 And 'tis fixed in my mem'ry forever to last, 
 
 All fresh and attractive and bright, 
 I'd like to go back to that beautiful spot 
 
 Where gladness and joy reigned always. 
 And note what I've remembered and what I've forgot 
 
 Since those youthful and care-unknown days. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 177 
 
 Could I turn back the wheels of my "three-score and ten," 
 
 And go over those long, weary years. 
 Could I visit the spot and know it as then 
 
 And forget all my hardships and tears, 
 How happy I'd be — and how glad grow my heart 
 
 'Mid the sun-rays of that early day. 
 And how bright would my life into new being start, 
 
 Like flowers in the warm month of May. 
 
 How many bright faces I'd meet here and there. 
 
 Of those I had known and had proved I 
 How many warm smiles and kind words everywhere 
 
 Would greet me from those I then loved ! 
 The friends that I had and had cherished so dear, 
 
 Whose companionship made life so sweet — 
 What a pleasure to greet them with love all sincere, 
 
 Such as then made our friendship complete. 
 
 And the memories awakened by this or that scene, 
 
 So familiar in days long ago, 
 How they'd quicken the pulse and a joy rich and keen 
 
 Would cause through my being to flow I 
 While the home-life I'd lived in the home I had known 
 
 Where love held perpetual reign 
 And where seeds of pure kindness so freely were sown — 
 
 How delightful to live it again I 
 
 Yes, that life I once lived under skies bright and fair, 
 
 'Mid an atmosphere genial and mild, 
 With few of sore burdens, or worries to bear. 
 
 Where Fortune looked kindly and smiled. 
 And where loved ones came freely to help and to bless. 
 
 To ward off the evil and pain, 
 And to soothe every ache with a loving caress — 
 
 How delightful to live it again ! 
 
 Moreover, what joy to live over that life 
 
 Where so little of evil came near. 
 Where of sorrow or worry, of struggle or strife, 
 
 I had little or nothing to fear ; 
 Where all seemed so innocent, kindly and fair. 
 
 So little of wickedness wrought 
 That error and evil had little of share 
 In either my sight or my thought. 
 
 But the chiefest, the best and most fondly desired, 
 
 If I could go back to that place. 
 Is the chance I would have, with new vigor inspired, 
 
 To begin once again my life race. 
 
178 WAR VERSE 
 
 'Twould be pleasant, I feel, to begin life anew, 
 
 To again travel over its way, 
 To plan for its work with the future in view 
 
 And the duties and cares of each day. 
 
 'Twould bring a delight to once more have a chance 
 
 To try at my life-work again, 
 To think and to plan and to work to advance 
 
 The objects I've sought to attain. 
 'Twould be pleasant to know I had strength to renew 
 
 The battle of life I've once fought, 
 For, perhaps with that strength, I might see carried through 
 
 Some schemes I have seen come to naught. 
 
 There is great satisfaction in struggling to win 
 
 For this or that object, success. 
 To know you're a factor in life's bustling din 
 
 Of greater importance or less — 
 It brings richest pleasure to know that you've done 
 
 Your full part in the battle of life — 
 That you've given your best, even when you've not won 
 
 In the midst of its stress and its strife. 
 
 There's great satisfaction when day after day. 
 
 You've stood for the cause you thought right 
 Against strong opposition in this or that way, 
 
 While making a vigorous fight. 
 And then have won out and a victory gained 
 
 With justice and truth on your side: 
 While with manhood preserved and with honor unstained, 
 You feel a just pride in the cause you maintained 
 
 And a joy that will ever abide. 
 
 So, could I go back and begin life anew, 
 
 It seems I could more good attain. 
 Could reduce my mistakes from the many to few. 
 
 For loss figure up more of gain. 
 The work might be harder than seems to me now, 
 
 But I'd like to begin it and try 
 To earn more of success, for the work anyhow 
 
 Would bring a reward rich and high. 
 
 There is so much to do that I see should be done 
 
 To build up the good and the true. 
 To help on the Right till a victory is won 
 
 O'er the Wrong that stands ever in view — 
 So much to be done for the good of mankind, 
 
 To cheer human life here and there, 
 To establish a brother-love thoughtful and kind 
 
 In all human hearts everywhere. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 179 
 
 In this noble work to encourage and bless, 
 
 To uplift human life and make bright, 
 To stand in the ranks 'mid the struggle and stress 
 
 And do battle for Justice and Right, 
 I would like to bear part — to have some greater share 
 
 In helping the good work along, 
 To be of the number who do and who dare 
 
 In helping to crush out the Wrong. 
 
 Hence, I'd like to start out on my life-work once more 
 
 With full strength of both body and mind, 
 With a field broad and free, as I once had before, 
 
 To do duty wherever assigned — • 
 I might not do work of a worthier grade. 
 
 Not show any noted advance, 
 Not better the record I've already made — 
 
 But I'd like — really like — one more chance. 
 
 ONWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 The nature of man has proved ever the same 
 
 Whatever the place of his dwelling ; 
 "His full faith in 'The Old' " whate'er went or came. 
 
 Is a fact all past ages are telling. 
 He has bowed to "The Old," he has worshiped "The Old," 
 
 Clung to it with utmost devotion. 
 And, oft when his reason condemned it, behold ! 
 
 He's grown sad with regretful emotion. 
 
 And today he's the same I "The Old" holds him fast. 
 
 With the charm it has woven around him, 
 While he's chained in devotion to what is long past 
 
 As though some mighty giant had bound him. 
 With what he has learned from the ages gone by 
 
 He takes "The Old" false in full measure 
 And clings to it firmly with strong loyalty. 
 
 Its age making it a rich treasure. 
 
 The teachings he had in his youth's early day. 
 
 The doctrines and creeds, "sacred ever," 
 As held by "The Fathers," "and truthful alway," 
 
 Which they say he must question — no — never ; 
 All these he finds hard to reject and turn down 
 
 After once he's believed as directed. 
 For always he fears the stern "orthodox" frown 
 
 If his loyalty once be suspected. 
 
180 WAR VERSE 
 
 But he who would grow and develop in truth — 
 
 — Become what his Nature intended — 
 Must give up some things he had learned in his youth 
 
 Whether censured or freely defended. 
 He must stand by "The Old" while "The Old" remains good, 
 
 Must uphold it in spirit and letter, 
 But must turn from it promptly when once understood 
 
 There's something been found that is better. 
 
 It is true that in all of the years of the past 
 
 Earth's proud rulers have shown great devotion 
 To things which were "Old," while man's good they have cast 
 
 Underfoot to make sure their promotion. 
 War, murder and cruelty, suffering and pain 
 
 "The Old's" devotees have caused ever, 
 While they've halted all progress beneath their sad reign, 
 
 Having bound it with chains hard to sever. 
 
 These rulers or leaders have held fullest sway, 
 
 While the many have followed their leading — 
 Thus giving them strength to hold power in their day, 
 
 The rights of their fellows unheeding — 
 In Church and in State they have ruled with high hand 
 
 And have sought to crush all opposition, 
 But always a few have been found to withstand 
 
 And make war on their selfish ambition. 
 
 And. thanks to these few, man's now marching along. 
 
 His course on and upward pursuing. 
 Hailing every new good with his welcoming song 
 
 And glad at each old wrong's undoing. 
 One thing of the past may not suit for today, 
 
 Another not fit new conditions. 
 For while each may have suited its own age, it may 
 
 Not suit new ideals and ambitions. 
 
 There is much that is good which must ever remain — 
 
 — Good alike for each people and nation — 
 Being helpful to all 'mid the world's loss and gain 
 
 Whatever their calling or station. 
 That good we should guard and uphold with our might, 
 
 Never letting our loyalty waver, 
 But doing our best, with our wisdom and light, 
 
 To guard it from any disfavor. 
 
 But once having been good in an age that's gone by 
 
 Don't make a thing good in all stages 
 Of man's evolution, or make it apply 
 
 To all human conditions and ages. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 181 
 
 We grow from "The Old" and into "The New" — 
 
 Advance to some higher position. 
 And the change that we make may likewise change our view 
 
 Of what's good for our altered condition. 
 
 Our duty demands that we grow day by day, 
 
 In wisdom forever increasing 
 And gaining fresh knowledge wherever we may 
 
 With effort both strong and unceasing. 
 The bonds that unite us to some worthless past 
 
 We should sunder at duty's dictation, 
 And move "Onward and Upward" with step firm and fast 
 
 To a nobler and loftier station. 
 
 But in all that we learn from within and without, 
 
 Which can help us whate'er our vocation, 
 The one "sacred" thing that we know aught about 
 
 Is man during this life's probation. 
 And this being so, whatever of work 
 
 Will make mortal life more worth living 
 We should readily do, if we can, and not shirk 
 
 Either planning, or doing, or giving. 
 
 There is nothing on earth that's as worthy as man — 
 
 — Naught we know that is "sacred" beside him — 
 And hence it becomes us to do all we can 
 
 To see that no evil betide him. 
 We should carefully labor to shield him from wrong. 
 
 And make it our chiefest endeavor 
 To guard and protect him, with will firm and strong, 
 
 From all that is ill now and ever. 
 
 Hence what has been fixed in the Church or the State — 
 
 — In Ritual — Law — Constitution — 
 If it fails to work good to man now, small or great, 
 
 We should change with a firm resolution. 
 For there's nothing that age or man's use has found good, 
 
 Though it worked in its day to perfection. 
 If it work not man's good as today understood, 
 
 But should meet with our promptest rejection. 
 
 When man's welfare is sought any change should be wrought. 
 
 Any altar torn down we've erected. 
 Any creed be erased, any dogma effaced. 
 
 Any doctrine be promptly rejected, 
 Any laws should be changed, and rules re-arranged. 
 
 Constitutions be altered and bettered, 
 Anything should be done by which good can be won 
 
 And man's progress made free and unfettered. 
 
1S2 WAR VERSE 
 
 For all principles, dogmas and laws here or there 
 
 Are made "sacred" and claim our devotion 
 Only when and because they bring man his full share 
 
 Of life's good things in rightful proportion. 
 Man's good is the first and chief thing to be sought, 
 
 His life all should labor to brighten, 
 His welfare should evermore claim our best thought, 
 
 And our aim be his burdens to lighten. 
 
 The one only way we can do Heaven's will 
 
 Is by doing for man as our brother, 
 While our duty on this earth we wholly fulfill 
 
 When we just do for him — and no other. 
 We work for Heaven's God when we work for Earth's Man 
 
 And in no other way can we do it, 
 While the best of all prayer that wc make, or we can, 
 
 Is to take up this work and pursue it. 
 
 Hence 'tis right and a duty to discard "The Old," 
 
 When "'The Old" ends it's man-helpful mission. 
 And to welcome "The New" with a heart firm and bold 
 
 When "The New" would improve man's condition. 
 For there's naught made so "sacred" by use or by age, 
 
 Or sanctioned by man's clearest vision, 
 If it works not man's good, but swift from life's stage 
 
 Should be hurled with our promptest decision. 
 
 For all progress is gained and all uplift attained. 
 
 All good wrought for man now and ever. 
 Only when with new light we work for the Right 
 
 With a constant, persistent endeavor. 
 Hence when truth and use state that "The Old's" out of date. 
 
 We should cast it aside with elation 
 And welcome "The New," when we know it is true 
 
 That 'twill work for mankind's elevation. 
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY. 
 
 I was at "Our Old Home" for Thanksgiving, my friend. 
 
 And I spent with home friends that glad day — 
 That best of glad days that the Fates ever send 
 
 To lighten and brighten's Life's way. 
 You see we've all planned for full many a year 
 
 To spend our Thanksgivings at "Home," 
 And this plan we'll continue, should naught interfere, 
 
 For many a year yet to come. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 183 
 
 Did we have a good time? We most certainly did, 
 
 (For the last time's the best one alway) 
 We just loosened the brakes and threw off the lid 
 
 And let joy reign with full and free sway — 
 And under this reign a most hearty good-cheer 
 
 Filled the house and the hearts of all there, 
 While pleasure's bright presence was constantly near, 
 
 Shedding gladness and light everywhere. 
 
 There were father and mother — grown old, it is true — 
 
 But hearty and cheerful and bright. 
 With children and grand-children — there to renew 
 
 Home mem'ries with fondest delight. 
 These mem'ries of "Home !" How they gladden the heart 
 
 Of all who have hearts true and warm 
 And wake richer thoughts which ever impart 
 
 To home life new beauty and charm. 
 
 For what were we thankful? Well, thankful that we 
 
 Had something to call us back home — 
 A mem'ry of home-love, as boundless and free 
 
 As ever to child-life can come — 
 A mem'ry of those who most lovingly sought 
 
 To crown our child-life with delight. 
 And whose constant endeavor and most earnest thought 
 
 Were to make our home cheerful and bright. 
 
 That happy home life ! How its mem'ries endure, 
 
 With its ever-abundant good-cheer. 
 With its helpfulness ready, its love warm and pure, 
 
 And its loyalty true and sincere. 
 And how well I remember to this very day 
 
 All the pleasures it brought to my life — 
 And how this remembrance now brightens my way 
 As I move daily on and take part in the fray 
 
 Of Life's constant bustle and strife. 
 
 For "Thanksgiving" means home — and home all should go — 
 
 — Dismissing all worry and care — 
 To spend this glad day with their home friends and so 
 
 With them home's fond mem'ries to share ; 
 To gather together in parlor or 'round 
 
 The table weighed down with rich fare. 
 Where we talk of old times and find common ground 
 Whereon we once dwelt with our lives freely crowned 
 
 With pleasures abundant and rare. 
 
184 WAR VERSE 
 
 Our childhood's bright home! What joy and delight 
 
 To go back to that home of the past, 
 Where we spent our young days, all so pleasant and bright, 
 
 With few clouds from the first to the last ; 
 Where we find a companionship, always held dear, 
 
 Of those whom our early days knew, 
 And can trust that companionship both as sincere. 
 
 Warm-hearted and loyal and true. 
 
 We were thankful, moreover, that all were in health, 
 
 And could meet thus together once more, 
 And that each brought a treasure of unmeasured wealth, 
 
 In the heart-full of love that he bore. 
 For love is the sweetener of all true home life, 
 
 While its value can never be told, 
 In uniting home hearts and banishing strife, 
 
 By its methods and ways manifold. 
 
 We were thankful, again, that, with all we had had 
 
 To bless with its comfort and care. 
 We all possessed hearts to be thankful and glad, 
 
 For once having these good things to share. 
 For the secret of happiness lies in the fact 
 
 That one has that within which can see 
 Whate'er will make happy and then with wise tact, 
 
 Lets it work out in life full and free. 
 
 And we love this day more because we forget 
 
 For a time all vexations and strife, 
 The success or the failure, the hope or regret 
 
 That have brightened or darkened our life. 
 Thus for one day, at least, with the friends of our heart 
 
 All worry is driven away. 
 And we store up a cheer and a joy that impart 
 
 Their blessings for many a day. 
 
 We may boast of our palaces royal and grand. 
 
 Of their beauty beyond all compare. 
 Of the millions they cost and the free, lavish hand 
 
 That provides them with luxuries rare. 
 But a palace can't make a Thanksgiving day bright, 
 
 Or its wealth give a hearty good cheer, 
 Or its luxuries waken that charming delight. 
 
 Which makes a Thanksgiving day dear. 
 
 'Tis love — only love — that can gladden the day 
 
 And make it attractive to all, 
 With a loyal companionship, trusted alway 
 
 And responsive to love's every call. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 185 
 
 With love and companionship even a hut, 
 
 Alay be made a rich palace of joy, 
 Where happiness reigns without one if or but. 
 
 And without any grain of alloy. 
 
 So be it remembered if Thanksgiving day 
 
 Is ever made what it can be — 
 If e'er 'tis lit up by the clear, brilliant ray 
 
 Of pleasure, all boundless and free. 
 It will be only when true love reigns supreme. 
 
 Giving out its full measure of light 
 And warming all hearts with its own golden beam 
 
 Of happiness, cheerful and bright. 
 
 EIGHTY YEARS OLD. 
 
 I am eighty years old — yes, eighty full years — 
 
 And I've traveled a long, rugged way. 
 While the burdens I once thought so light, it appears, 
 
 I'm not able to carry today. 
 The years have sped by with a most rapid flight. 
 
 And I scarce can recall where they've flown. 
 But I know they have left me in sorrowful plight — 
 
 With a weakness I cannot disown. 
 
 I go back to my childhood in mem'ry today, 
 
 Footing up both its loss and its gain. 
 And I find very much that made joyous my way, 
 
 Very little that caused grief or pain. 
 There were father and mother whose love added light 
 
 And comfort my young heart to cheer. 
 With brothers and sisters whose presence so bright, 
 
 Brought a pleasure both deep and sincere. 
 
 I see the plain house — to my mind just as clear 
 
 As 'twas when I lived there of old. 
 With all its surroundings, I knew, far and near 
 
 In their changes and forms manifold. 
 Yes, the house was quite plain, but a home I found there 
 
 During all of my young, tender years, 
 While I had in that home no real burden of care. 
 
 Or of life's many worries and fears. 
 
 That home of my childhood ! How can I forget 
 
 The life that I lived there so long. 
 Having in it so little to cause me regret. 
 
 And so much for rejoicing and song. 
 
186 WAR VERSE 
 
 As I go back today and fond memory dwells 
 On that picture most pleasing and bright, 
 
 My heart with emotions of gratitude swells, 
 Anr* is warned with a charming delight. 
 
 Then came early school life! How well I recall 
 
 That part of my youthful career — 
 The teachers, the school-house, the school-mates and all 
 
 That brought me so much of good cheer. 
 I can see them all now just as they were then, 
 
 As they pass me in silent array. 
 And I almost imagine I'm with them again, 
 
 As I was in that far-off, bright day. 
 
 And when I grew older to college I went, 
 
 With ambition and purpose most high, 
 And today I remember the time I there spent, 
 
 As the years hurried rapidly by. 
 It was study, 'tis true, and quite hard study, too. 
 
 But that never caused a regret. 
 For my life was made glad by the good times I had 
 
 With my class-mates and others I met. 
 
 But where are they today? These school friends of old? 
 
 How've they fared in the battle of life? 
 There were some, starting out with hearts fearless and bold, 
 
 Who early went down in the strife. 
 While a few won positions of worthy degree. 
 And hold to them yet with hands steady and free, 
 
 But the many of all that I knew 
 Have reluctantly yielded to Time's stern decree, 
 
 And have bade earth a final adieu. 
 
 And full many others whose friendship was dear, 
 
 Whose companionship gave me delight, 
 Whose presence at all times brought comfort and cheer, 
 
 And my life made more happy and bright, 
 Have gone from this earth-home at Death's stern command 
 
 To join the immortal and blest. 
 And, though I think of them in "Heaven's Happy Land," 
 
 My heart feels both sore and distressed. 
 
 But chiefest of all, I remember to-day 
 
 When, with friends that were loyal and true, 
 
 I went from my home to "the front" far away, 
 To join "The Grand Army in Blue." 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 187 
 
 That "Army in Blue!" How it dared and it wrought 
 
 The Union from evil to shield! 
 How it sought to maintain it and gallantly fought, 
 
 On many a dark, bloody field! 
 
 And the men who composed it! What heroes they weret 
 
 Ever ready with service or life, 
 And prompt at all times, both to do and to dare, 
 
 For the ending of War's bitter strife! 
 With pride I recall the heroic careers 
 
 Of these soldiers, the strong and the brave, 
 With their dangers and suff'rings, their hardships and fears, 
 As they labored and struggled through four cruel years 
 
 In seeking The Union to save. 
 
 Then, since the war ended and peace has held sway, 
 
 How busy the great world has been 
 With some vital question to settle each day, 
 
 Or some forward move to begin. 
 The wise have been active in helping along 
 
 Such works as would better and bless, 
 And the good that's resulted has wakened a song, 
 
 In many hearts sore with distress. 
 
 And reforms of all kinds have sprung up everywhere. 
 
 And improvements in every good form, 
 The lives of the many been freed from much care, 
 
 And much of the world's stress and storm, 
 While a brother-love kindness, from shore unto shore, 
 
 Has been gently asserting its reign. 
 And mankind has united as never before. 
 
 For their betterment, comfort and gain. 
 
 In the midst of this on-going movement for good— 
 
 This growth toward what's better and right— 
 I have quietly labored and wrought as I could 
 To discharge in the way that I best understood, 
 
 Such duties as came to my sight. 
 While the richest home blessings have brought me good cheer, 
 
 Through the love of a wife kind and true. 
 And of children— all growing the more and more dear, 
 
 As each swift year has passed in review. 
 
 This one thing I've learned as the years have passed by, 
 
 With their hurry and bustle and strife, 
 That the friendships we form which love only can buy, 
 
 Give the only real charm to this life. 
 
188 WAR VERSE 
 
 For, with no faithful friends to encourage and cheer, 
 To give help when misfortunes befall, 
 
 This world of all places would be the most drear, 
 And this life not worth living at all. 
 
 It is true, many times I have found the road rough, 
 
 And the clouds have been black overhead, 
 While the Future has seemed dark and cheerless enough, 
 
 To fill me with worry and dread. 
 But, as I moved onward, the clouds disappeared. 
 
 The future a bright form displayed, 
 While the road became smooth and the ills that I feared, 
 Wrought little of evil or never appeared. 
 And so I've gone forward and had my heart cheered 
 
 With more of life's sunshine than shade. 
 
 Hence, I feel, when I note the advance in my day 
 
 And compare it with History's page, 
 That I can most justly and truthfully say: 
 
 "I have lived in the world's greatest age." 
 And so while I wait for my last sun to set, 
 
 Thus ending my earthly career. 
 I can look to the past with but little regret, 
 
 To the future without any fear. 
 
 BROTHER LOVE. 
 
 If we could see others as they themselves see 
 
 And they could see us as we are. 
 How carefully guarded our censure would be, 
 
 When others go wrong here and there ! 
 We would not judge so hastily, freely or ill, 
 
 Or condemn with so little of light, 
 But would strive, while our duty we seek to fulfill. 
 As "our brother's keeper" with hearty good will, 
 
 To lead him in ways that are right. 
 
 We frequently blame one for what he has done. 
 
 Condemn him for some "hateful sin," 
 When, if Fate had decreed that his course we should run, 
 
 Far greater our sin might have been. 
 It is easy to blame when a brother goes wrong, 
 
 To declare that he's needlessly frail, 
 Forgetting too often that he may belong 
 To those who've had little to help them along, 
 And little to make them courageous and strong, 
 
 To resist when temptations assail. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE m 
 
 Men rarely do wrong because loving the bad, 
 
 Or loving to do the wrong thing, 
 But simply to get some good thing they've not had 
 
 And which the wrong-doing will bring. 
 Could this good thing be had without going astray, 
 
 Or doing the wrong to obtain, 
 They would gladly prefer to obtain it that way, 
 And be much the more happy if able to say : 
 
 "This good thing has on it no stain " 
 
 Before we condemn the wrong-doer at all, 
 
 We should labor sincerely to learn, 
 What led him astray — how came he to fall, 
 
 And to evil so sadly to turn? 
 He may have been weak by his nature and frail. 
 
 His child-life unhelped by love's light, 
 His environments wrong with a smooth downward trail, 
 And, with little to aid him where much should prevail, 
 He grew up too weak, when temptations assail. 
 
 To stand firm for the True and the Right. 
 
 We may be much better — and stronger in will — 
 
 Than the wrong doing one we condemn; 
 Perhaps we are abler Life's work to fulfill. 
 
 In the mission of man among men ; 
 But, when we look inward, what frailty appears, 
 
 How many defects do we see. 
 And we're led, if we're honest, to have many fears 
 That, with no better chance in our life's early years. 
 
 We'd have no better record than he. 
 
 It is right to condemn most severe now and then, 
 
 And to punish with vigorous arm. 
 To let it be known that all true, noble men. 
 
 Hate the working of all needless harm, 
 But, in doing all this, we should evermore know 
 
 That we all to do evil are prone — 
 That, while frowning down wrong wheresoever we go. 
 Only he "without sin" can just censure bestow. 
 
 Or can rightfully "cast the first stone." 
 
 What a change for the good and the true there would be. 
 
 What a blessing to all here and there. 
 How quickly a Heaven on earth we should see, 
 
 Bringing happiness true, rich and rare. 
 If all of earth's mortals would greet with good cheer, 
 
 Each other with brotherly love. 
 And would show to each one, high or low, far or near. 
 A brother's regard, with a purpose sincere, 
 
 A brother's affection to prove. 
 
190 WAR VERSE 
 
 HAND AND HEART GIFTS. 
 
 The gifts of the hand may be silver or gold, 
 
 And valued at price rich and rare, 
 But the value of heart-gifts can never be told, 
 For they're ladened with blessings in form manifold, 
 
 And with love far beyond all compare. 
 
 The gifts of the hand may be pleasing and bright, 
 
 With many wierd charms for the eye, 
 But the gifts of the heart, though not aimed to delight 
 Any mere outward sense, yet the Soul's inner sight 
 Sees in them a charm that makes day of grief's night, 
 And gives joy for the tear and the sigh. 
 
 The gifts of the hand may seem lasting and sure. 
 
 Yet they perish with moth and with rust, 
 But the gifts of the heart, being love-rich and pure, 
 With healing and comfort will ever endure 
 Though the giver be laid in the dust. 
 
 The gifts of the hand may bring wealth full and free. 
 
 Which gives joy to the selfish and vain, 
 But the heart-gifts, all sweetened with warm charity, 
 Cause sorrow and anguish to take wings and flee, 
 And lighten the Soul's deepest pain. 
 
 The gifts of the hand may bring something of cheer. 
 
 To lives lived in a mere worldly way. 
 But the gifts of the heart, always pure and sincere, 
 Will bring a rich joy that will ne'er disappear, 
 
 But will last throughout Life's longest day. 
 
 The gifts of the hand can only supply. 
 
 The wants of our bodily frame, 
 But the gifts of the heart drive the tears from the eye, 
 And bring rest to the Soul in its sad misery, 
 
 Too sweet for us mortals to name. 
 
 The gifts of the hand may wake loudest of praise. 
 
 For the givers who're seeking renown, 
 But the gifts of the heart, in their own modest ways, 
 Waken gladness and hope 'mid the darkest of days. 
 
 Regardless of favor or frown. 
 
 The gifts of the hand may help people to grow 
 
 In aflfairs of a worldly estate. 
 But the gifts of the heart will help people to know 
 A soul-growth and mind-growth, most worthy, and so 
 
 To become truly noble and great. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 191 
 
 OUR GOLDEN WEDDING DAY. 
 
 Yes — in our married life we have reached, as you say, 
 
 The end of our fiftieth year, 
 And this is our Golden — most bright — Wedding Day, 
 
 To be hailed with all hearty good cheer. 
 'Tis a day to give thanks and be joyous and glad, 
 
 That our lives have been spared us so long, 
 That so many of earth's rich and good things we've had- 
 So many to cheer, and so few to make sad, 
 
 And that now we're so hearty and strong. 
 
 So we'll welcome the day and rejoice heartilv, 
 As we think of the years that have gone, 
 
 And of all the rich blessings they've brought you and me 
 As they have moved steadily on. 
 
 We have journeyed together, as husband and wife, 
 Through the fifty long years that have passed. 
 
 And whether our way has been marked by fierce strife, 
 
 Or sunshine and pleasure have gladdened our life. 
 Our love has been true and steadfast. 
 
 How swiftly these years have gone hurrying by! 
 
 And, as we review them today, 
 We can scarce realize, although hard we may try, 
 
 That they're hastened so quickly away — 
 But 'tis true they have gone, and all that remains 
 
 Of the stores that they brought full and free — 
 The sunshine and shadows, the losses and gains, 
 The sorrow and laughter, the pleasure and pains — 
 
 Is what's treasured in fond memory. 
 
 And so we go back as fond memory leads 
 
 Over all these long years passed away. 
 And gladly recall what we gained for our needs 
 
 And what helped us in life's busy fray. 
 We note the successes we won here and there, 
 
 The failures we made now and then. 
 The carrying of burdens we scarcely could bear, 
 The experiences such that no others could share. 
 The days that were dark and the days that were fair. 
 All working a soul-growth we could not well spare 
 
 Which, without these, would never have been. 
 
 We recall the glad times when together we stood. 
 
 And promised to each to be true, 
 As husband and wife amid evil or good, 
 
 In sunshine or shade, all life through. 
 
192 WAR VERSE 
 
 How hopeful we grew as these thoughts came to mind: 
 
 "We will live with each other alway, 
 Will enjoy all the good things, our labor can find, 
 And all that comes to us from hands that are kind, 
 Will accept all life's hardships while feeling inclined, 
 To bear them with patience and spirits resigned, 
 
 And be more and more happy each day." 
 
 How bright were our hearts when possession we took 
 
 Of the first little house that we bought — 
 All paid for in cash and with no anxious look. 
 
 For some note whose prompt payment was sought. 
 Then the planning, the buying and furnishing came, 
 
 An experience we never had known. 
 And when, with such work as it's useless to name, 
 We found all completed, we felt we could claim, 
 
 A home that was truly our own. 
 
 And what pleasure we had — what abundant content, 
 
 In starting our home-life — all new — 
 And what good things came to us, as onward we went, 
 
 That brought us a joy rich and true. 
 Then children appeared, and the pleasures before 
 
 Were increased far beyond all compare, 
 And our joy-cup so filled that its contents ran o'er. 
 While we felt, with so much, we could ask for no more. 
 
 But had some little portion to spare. 
 
 We remember the time when we started to gain 
 
 A place 'mid the world's busy throng. 
 And how fully we trusted our own hand and brain. 
 
 To win a place lasting and strong. 
 Our hearts were inspired with youth's most cheerful hope, 
 
 And we looked to a future all bright, 
 With no storm-clouds to darken our life's horoscope, 
 But all things to buoy our young spirits up. 
 
 And to make our hearts cheerful and light. 
 
 How gladly we sacrificed, struggled and wrought. 
 
 And counselled and planned day by day, 
 And how happy we were when the goal that we sought. 
 
 We had reached in our own well-planned way. 
 We started with little, and hence all we gained. 
 
 By our own faithful labor and skill, 
 We felt we had earned, and so were not pained 
 Thinking some one was wronged, and thus we retained 
 
 Self-respect and all others' good-will. 
 
AND OTHE R VERSE 193 
 
 But time works sad changes ! The roses will fade, 
 
 The sunshine be followed by rain, 
 And man's many plannings, though skillfully laid, 
 
 Will be shattered again and again. 
 And Death entered our home, all so cheerful and bright, 
 
 Took two of our children away, 
 Barred out from our life all the sunshine and light, 
 And wrapped our sore hearts in the blackness of night, 
 
 Making dark all the glad hours of day. 
 
 So the deepest of sorrow as well as great joy. 
 
 We have known in these long fifty years. 
 And, despite all the means we've been wont to employ. 
 
 To ward off its sighs and its tears, 
 It has often persisted our home to invade. 
 
 Bringing to us deep suff'ring and pain, 
 And crushing out wholly the joy-plans we'd made, 
 And leaving for sunshine the darkest of shade 
 
 Which, it seemed, would forever remain. 
 
 But while all of this change we were called to pass through 
 
 Of sunshine and shade here and there — 
 Our faith in each other most steadily grew. 
 
 By what we were called on to bear. 
 And our mutual love waxed strong more and more. 
 
 As together we sorrowed and joyed, 
 While we found that we had, as we studied them o'er, 
 Much higher ideals of this earth-life in store. 
 Than ever we'd had ; and we thence made a start. 
 To attain these ideals with a resolute heart. 
 
 And a zeal we had never employed. 
 
 And now, after trav'ling through all these past years. 
 
 We find we are feeble and old, 
 And our long-wedded life, with its joys and its tears. 
 
 Seems passed "as a tale that is told." 
 Our children have married, and gone their own way, 
 
 Among the great world's busy throng, 
 While we, ever mindful, from day unto day. 
 That we, on this earth, cannot much longer stay. 
 
 In our own quiet way plod along. 
 
 But, while thus reviewing our long-wedded life, 
 
 Counting up both its loss and its gain. 
 Recalling its struggles, its conflicts and strife, 
 
 And all of its pleasure and pain. 
 We can say, of a truth, while the years have passed by. 
 
 With a swiftness that could not be stayed. 
 
194 WAR VERSF: 
 
 And while they've oft given us a dark-clouded sky 
 And caused us much sorrow and sore agony, 
 
 They have brought us more sunshine than shade. 
 
 Even now, when we know our earth-life must soon end, 
 
 We find much both to comfort and cheer. 
 For we have the respect of full many a friend 
 
 And esteem that is true and sincere. 
 Then our children errow more and more dear every day, 
 
 And their love gives us constant delight. 
 While their thoughtful endeavors — the kind words they say 
 To lessen our burdens and lighten our way. 
 
 Bring us much that is cheerful and bright. 
 
 And so, while recalling the years that have gone, 
 
 We are thankful for all that we've had. 
 To give to us pleasure as we've journeyed on, 
 
 And to lighten and make our hearts glad. 
 We owe much to kind friends, who, with help and good cheer, 
 
 Were such factors in brightening our way. 
 And more to our children whose attentive ear. 
 Heard our every faint call and who'd promptly appear, 
 To assist when our path became too rough or drear. 
 To help drive from our hearts any sorrow or fear. 
 And to banish all clouds and thus make our sky clear. 
 But most to each other we owe, for the near 
 And loved presence of each, in its helpful career. 
 And love each for each and devotion sincere. 
 
 Brought to us new pleasures each day. 
 
 But, while we are thankful for all that was fair. 
 
 And cheering and pleasant and good. 
 We are thankful for failures — defeats here and there — 
 
 Which often were not understood. 
 But we learned in good time that these things were all sent. 
 
 As blessings in well-meant disguise. 
 For we came well to know that the surest ascent, 
 To the true and the noble could never be meant 
 To be made but by struggle and conflict with ill, 
 And work against odds some set task to fulfill. 
 Thus increasing his strength of both body and will. 
 
 And making the struggles more wise. 
 
 So, while we are thankful for all that has come. 
 
 To work for us comfort and cheer. 
 To encourage our hearts and to brighten our home. 
 
 And to help us round out life's career, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 195 
 
 We'll be all to each other as calmly we wait 
 
 The end of our fast-fading day, 
 Well pleased with the past, with no fears, small or great, 
 Of what may await us in some future state, 
 
 But contented and happy alway. 
 
 OLD AGE HAS BOTH SADNESS AND JOY. 
 
 It is sad to be "laid on the shelf," my friend, 
 To grow old and be "laid on the shelf," 
 
 To feel the age come that makes energy numb. 
 And takes by a gradual stealth 
 Away from us mortals the wealth. 
 Of vigor and strength and good health, 
 And leaves but a weak, feeble self. 
 
 Unfitted to do or to dare, 
 
 Or life's heavy burdens to bear, 
 
 And unable to help or to share 
 
 In the work to be done here and there, 
 
 To relieve human suff'ring and care. 
 
 And to build up the good everywhere. 
 
 And thus you're made fully aware, 
 
 That your body's a wreck and nowhere 
 
 Can be found any means of repair. 
 
 While this thought you must evermore face: 
 
 That the work-shop of life has no space, 
 
 Where again you can e'er have a place. 
 
 Yes! 'Tis sad to be "laid on the shelf," 
 
 But joy may come to the old, my friend. 
 To the old who are "laid on the shelf." 
 
 It will come to each one who Life's battle has won, 
 Who has sought to develop and grow. 
 That the Right he more clearly may know, 
 And the Wrong deal his heaviest blow, 
 Thus shaping his actions that so 
 He may prove himself ever the foe, 
 Of all that's unjust here below. 
 And may have a clean record to show. 
 That he's ever unflinchingly stood, 
 For all that is worthy and good; 
 
 And who knows that, with vigor and zest, 
 
 He has sought to give ever his best. 
 
 Whene'er he's been put to the test, 
 
 And has earned— justly earned— a long rest — 
 Yes I There's joy for one "laid on the shelf." 
 
196 WAR VERSE 
 
 It is sad to look over the past, my friend. 
 For the old to look over the past, 
 
 To recall the dark days with no bright, cheering rays, 
 The failures that came here and there, 
 The hardships, the trials, the care. 
 The roads steep and rough everywhere, 
 And the heart-aches no others could share. 
 
 Then the record that shows where you strayed. 
 
 The mistakes that you frequently made. 
 
 The word or the deed that displayed 
 
 Where the Right was most sadly betrayed, 
 
 And the Wrong given much cheering aid, 
 
 Or some plan most dishonestly laid. 
 
 Which might bring to some others the sorest of pain. 
 
 But to you could bring naught save some ill-gotten gain. 
 Yes! 'Tis sad to look over the past. 
 
 But it may bring a joy to look, my friend. 
 To the old to look over the past. 
 
 To note the glad hours with their sunshine and flowers, 
 The friends who were faithful and true. 
 The kind words and kind deeds not a few, 
 Which they gave with this object in view. 
 To rouse courage some fight to renew. 
 And to help you some hard struggle through ; 
 And then to recall the brave fight, 
 Where you strove with a valorous might, 
 For the cause you believed to be right. 
 And thought, if 'twas won, 'twould make bright, 
 And bring hope and good cheer and delight, 
 To hearts wrapped in the darkness of night. 
 While the battling, the struggle, the care. 
 The burdens so heavy to bear. 
 The failures that came here and there. 
 Wrought a soul-growth beyond all compare. 
 All these must bring joy rich and rare. 
 To the old who've had in them due share. 
 And have learned the rich lessons they bear- 
 To the old who look over the past. 
 
 It is sad on the present to dwell, my friend. 
 For the old on the present to dwell ; 
 
 To know you've no place in the on-going race. 
 
 And with the great crowd can no longer keep pac*, 
 But must stay in the rear whatsoever the case, 
 And "take a back seat" with a sad, wrinkled face. 
 Thinking over it all with not much of good grace. 
 But wishing you might, in some manner, erase. 
 The last forty years and go back o'er that space. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 197 
 
 To Vigor and Youth which you know would efface, 
 The weakness of age and would break the embrace 
 Of Time's rugged arms and would start you anew, 
 With strength all sufficient Life's work to pursue. 
 It also brings sadness to watch the great throng- 
 To which you well know you no longer belong, 
 And can join nevermore though the Fates may prolong 
 Your life for some years yet earth's mortals among — 
 Moving on with firm steps and hearts fearless and strong, 
 And raising glad voices in soul-cheering song, 
 As they win for the Right and vanquish the Wrong. 
 These thoughts to the old may bring sadness of heart, 
 With a pain and a sting that may never depart. 
 While they on the present may dwell. 
 
 But it may be a joy to dwell, my friend. 
 
 For the old on the present to dwell ; 
 To know that the work that you ne'er sought to shirk. 
 Will be carried along by the able and true, 
 Who perhaps may be wiser and stronger than you. 
 Who'll devise some new plans and new methods pursue, 
 To help out the many instead of the few, 
 And to better mankind and to give each his due. 
 While they'll labor with zeal and give of their might, 
 To help on all work that may come to their sight, 
 Which will give human life more of comfort and light. 
 By crushing the Wrong and upholding the Right — 
 To know all of these should bring richest delight. 
 To the hearts of all those who've been true in Life's fight — 
 And, when old, on the present may dwell. 
 
 It is sad on the future to think, my friend. 
 For the old on the future to think. 
 
 For the days, as they come, remain silent and dumb, 
 And tell us no word of the future in view, 
 And although we may long for some message that's true, 
 Of the life of the morrow, they bring nothing new. 
 In regard to that life, while they give us no clew. 
 Or hint of a plan that will best help us through, 
 In living that life when its coming is due. 
 Even when these days come they ne'er deign to show, 
 Whence came we to this life or whither we go. 
 When our sojourn is ended on earth here below, 
 And we're thus left in darkest of mystery so 
 That Life's deepest problems we never can know. 
 But are forced to much guess-work and blindly we're led. 
 Not knowing the future one moment ahead. 
 And so we must wait throughout Life's closing days, 
 Compelled on this sad, darkened future to gaze, 
 
198 WAR VERSE 
 
 While we well understand that to us nevermore. 
 Will it bring back our strength or our vigor restore, 
 And will nevermore free us from weakness and pain, 
 Or fit us to enter Life's work-field again. 
 Yes ! 'Tis sad on the future to think 
 
 But it may be a joy to think, my friend, 
 For the old on the future to think. 
 
 For there's so much to do that we know must go through ; 
 For the strong will be working with courage and might. 
 To cheer human life and to make it more bright, 
 To bring to earth's lone ones some comfort and light. 
 And to lead all mankind to do only the Right. 
 Hence we may be assured that the day will appear, 
 When the Wrong will be vanquished and Right, far and near, 
 Will reign undisputed, with never a fear. 
 That an end will e'er come to its glorious career. 
 While, under its rule, joy will banish the tear, 
 And all human hearts will be filled with good cheer. 
 Brought about by a brother-love rich and sincere — 
 Hence if we have faith in the Right, strong and clear, 
 'Twill be joy on the future to think. 
 
 Yes! Old Age has both sadness and joy, my friend, 
 
 Old Age has both sadness and joy — 
 The sad comes along, or the glad with its song, 
 
 And they greet us the same as in youth's sunny clime. 
 Or when they appeared in strong manhood's full prime. 
 And they chant the same sadd'ning or soul-cheering rhyme, 
 Well suited to both the occasion and time. 
 But while the old sit with the records they've made, 
 And think of the past by fond mem'ry displayed. 
 Or dwell on the present, however arrayed, 
 Or look to the future unable to grade 
 The proportion 'twill bring them of sunshine and shade, 
 If they've stood for the True and the Right not betrayed. 
 They will find that, when all things are properly weighed, 
 Their lives have known much more of sunshine than shade, 
 Yes, much more of sunshine than shade. 
 
 The old may have comforting thoughts, my friend, 
 
 The old may have comforting thoughts. 
 From the years of the past they should learn and hold fast 
 
 This thought — that man's plans should be laid, 
 
 And his efforts be constantly made. 
 
 For this earth-life, whatever its grade. 
 
 To be lived in the sun, not the shade. 
 
 And hence when the past they invade, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 199 
 
 They should seek for the bright spots displayed. 
 And when on the present they dwell, 
 They should aim all that's dark to dispel, 
 And should look to the future with hearts unperplexed, 
 Feeling all will be well both in this world and next. 
 And so they should live, getting much of life's sun, 
 Being certain that when their life-race has been run, 
 They will say their good-nights, and will go to their rest. 
 But to wake up at morn in "the land of the blest," 
 Where goodness and love will hold sway everywhere. 
 And they'll live evermore without sorrow or care — 
 Yes! The old may have comforting thoughts. 
 
 THE SOUL'S REST. 
 
 Of all the various thoughts we find. 
 Puzzling, with doubt, the human mind. 
 One thought is chief and o'er the Soul, 
 Reigns ever with supreme control : 
 "There's rest ahead — life's better part" — 
 Comes cheering to each weary heart. 
 And how they best this rest may find. 
 Is puzzling greatly all mankind. 
 
 A trance came o'er me, with a bound, 
 I sped the spacious earth around, 
 Beheld its race — one mighty throng — 
 With eager hearts hurrying along, 
 Seeking this rest. Saw, too, the crowd, 
 Who'd started out with shouting loud. 
 Oft turn about, much grieved and pained, 
 To find their object not attained. 
 
 As were the men, so various too, 
 I thought the paths they did pursue. 
 One man there was who, being told 
 Of mines of silver, beds of gold. 
 In richness great, thought to himself: 
 "Rest comes to all who have great wealth." 
 And, thinking thus, I saw a smile 
 Glowing upon his face the while. 
 And through his mind bright visions passed, 
 Bright as the rays which overcast. 
 The earth at noon-day when the sun. 
 The acme of his course has won — 
 
 Charmed by these visions, hope inspired, 
 His eye grew bright, his senses fired. 
 
200 WAR VERSE 
 
 I saw him as he onward bent, 
 His eager footsteps, scarce content. 
 To rest a moment, lest the prize. 
 Whereon he'd fixed his longing eyes, 
 Should take it wings and vanish quite, 
 Like shadows, from his anxious sight, 
 
 Mid cold and heat, with struggling wan, 
 I saw him daily plodding on 
 The same broad pathway, and, at length, 
 When worn his body, gone his strength, 
 When wealth a glittering store'd bestowed. 
 Till all his coffers overflowed, 
 I heard him, while with grief oppressed. 
 Murmur : "My Soul yet seeketh rest." 
 
 I saw another — one who thought 
 Rest for the soul was only bought 
 With worldly honors, stations high, 
 Or titles of nobility. 
 With dauntless heart and iron will, 
 He struggled slowly up the hill. 
 Where fame resides, gained its tall height, 
 Gazed round him with unfeigned delight ; 
 Sought honor's fount and, with free will, 
 Drank of its waters to his fill ; 
 Heard far and near his once poor name. 
 Made noted by the trump of fame ; 
 Heard the applauding, fawning crowd. 
 As in meek reverence it bowed. 
 Speak loud his praises, tell his worth. 
 Extol the honors of his birth. 
 Unnumbered hosts his deeds admired. 
 And Praise stepped forth, richly attired. 
 To chant his name and, as she sang, 
 Their voices in the chorus rang, 
 Telling his virtues, making known. 
 The worthy deeds that he had done. 
 
 Thus was his cherished object gained, 
 The acme of his hopes attained. 
 Yet many a groan escaped his breast. 
 Telling his Soul had not found rest. 
 
 I saw another — on the plain. 
 Where war and strife and tumult reign, 
 He stood, and to himself he said : 
 Upon the Conqueror's glorious bed, 
 I doubt not that my Soul can find, 
 Rest of the richest, sweetest kind." 
 
AND OTHE R VERSE 201 
 
 Thus said he and, as s(X)n as said, 
 His warriors into battle led ; 
 The soil with human gore imbued, 
 The earth with human bodies strewed, 
 Drove myriads trembling from his path. 
 As wind dispels the nimble chaff; 
 Saw where'er passed the battle's storm. 
 Destruction rear its horrid form, 
 Saw kingdoms tremble at his frown, 
 Cities in ruin crumble down, 
 Rulers dragged headlong from their seat. 
 And kings, as suppliants, at his feet. 
 
 Now smiled he when his task was done, 
 His conquests o'er, his triumph won, 
 The victor's wreath, not thinking how 
 'Twas won. he bound about his brow. 
 And, seated on a royal throne. 
 Saw nations vast his sceptre own. 
 Yet oft, when he reviewed the past, 
 I saw a cloud his brow o'ercast, 
 And heard, while tear-drops dimmed his eye, 
 And bitter grew his agony, 
 A murmur from his aching breast, 
 Which told his Soul had found no rest. 
 
 There was another who maintained, 
 Rest for the Soul could be attained 
 By pilgrimage. With eager heart 
 And mind firm set, I saw him part 
 From home and friends, and bend his way, 
 To where he thought this rest might lay. 
 O'er lofty hills, 'mid forests green. 
 Through valleys deep he might be seen, 
 Plodding along, foot-sore and faint. 
 Without regret, without complaint. 
 Wasted and weak, with labor worn, 
 At length he reached "the sacred bourn," 
 Where he supposed his Soul would find. 
 Rest of the sweetest, purest kind. 
 Yet from the spot he turned away, 
 And sadly thus I heard him say : 
 "My soul sought rest, but ah ! it found 
 Unrest to everywhere abound." 
 
 There was another who retired. 
 From earth's great bustle, and attired 
 In robes monastic, thought the rest. 
 At once the purest and the best. 
 
^:02 WAR VERSE 
 
 Was found alone in the deep cell 
 Where he, in solitude, could dwell. 
 
 I saw him through the darkened gloom, 
 That hung around his living tomb. 
 In deepest anguish — for each sin. 
 That rose his secret heart within. 
 He strove with sigh and many a groan. 
 And deepest penance to atone. 
 And sometimes in the furious heat, 
 Of agony his breast he'd beat 
 With fearful strokes. And many a day 
 Turn from his food, untouched, away, 
 Thus hoping to allay the pain 
 And anguish which did ever reign 
 Within his bosom — but, alas ! 
 Days, weeks and months alike did pass, 
 Yet deep remorse without control 
 Tortured, both night and day, his Soul, 
 And, though long-sought, long-looked-for, rest, 
 Ne'er found a dwelling in his breast. 
 
 There came another, but of all 
 Who sought for rest, both great and small, 
 None was so foolish — none like he. 
 Acted with such stupidity. 
 Of all the places, earth around. 
 Wherein his object might be found, 
 He sought, and only sought, where he 
 Should know 'twas likely not to be. 
 I saw him with the giddy throng, 
 Deranged with wine, hurrying along 
 The banquet hall. And now he smiled. 
 And now, with curses loud and wild. 
 Raved madly. And, most full and free, 
 Of vice and immorality 
 He drank, then turned and drank again 
 As though unable to refrain. 
 The hope, that once, with courage high, 
 Had nerved his heart and fired his eye 
 For noble deeds, had vanished quite 
 Before the wine cup's fearful blight. 
 The sensual feast, the midnight bowl 
 Had choked those yearnings of his soul 
 For Truth and Right, of virtue born. 
 So fondly nursed in Life's fair morn. 
 And now a wreck, abject he stood. 
 Enchained to ill, robbed of the good. 
 Stained with misdeeds, in vileness brave, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 203 
 
 Sin's veriest dupe and meanest slave. 
 Yet once he paused ; some innate force 
 Had stayed him in his downward course, 
 And, while with grief and shame oppressed 
 And anguish gnawing at his breast. 
 The truth he saw and thus he said : 
 "I sought for rest, but found instead 
 Remorse and misery which impart, 
 Naught but disquiet to my heart." 
 
 There passed another who had more, 
 Than any I had seen before ! 
 Of wisdom true. On every side 
 I saw him look, slow to decide 
 Which path to take, and oft he stood 
 Betwixt the evil and the good. 
 Enchained by doubt, unable well 
 The evil from the good to tell. 
 Yet, ever as he could discern 
 One from the other, he would turn. 
 Choose first the good, then haste away 
 Evil to shun — the good obey. 
 
 One path and only one, he trod. 
 The path of virtue, and his God, 
 Ideals most high to which he paid 
 Homage most loyal and obeyed 
 Their wise commands. His beacon light 
 His own clear mind. Through Earth's dark night. 
 His pilot was the Right, his sun 
 Warm Love. With Justice free he talked 
 As friend to friend, and close he walked 
 With Charity, as sister, dear, 
 Whom he revered with love sincere. 
 
 He lived to act and to do good 
 To all about him, and he stood 
 For "Golden Rule" and "Neighbor Love," 
 And, by his life, he sought to prove 
 That he the happiest will be 
 Who does his duty full and free 
 By living these in thought and deed 
 Without regard to other creed. 
 For "Golden Rule" and "Neighbor Love" 
 Was all asked for by Heaven above 
 Or earth beneath (so his thought ran) — 
 Man doing for his fellow man. 
 
 Unlike the rest, who met my sight, 
 He ne'er turned back, but with delight 
 Pursued his way, and like them not 
 
m WAR VER.8E 
 
 He ne'er repented of his lot, 
 Or faltered, but, with spirit free, 
 Even contented seemed to be. 
 
 Thus, free from all the woes of life, 
 Triumphant o'er its care and strife, 
 Scorning alike the guilt and sin 
 That reign the selfish heart within, 
 He paused and bowed himself in prayer 
 Before his God and offered there 
 His vows sincere and, as he prayed, 
 Hope, Faith and Joy, alike displayed 
 In thought and feeling, but expressed 
 That he had found the Soul's true rest. 
 
 No more I saw — Yet here could find 
 
 A lesson of the richest kind — 
 
 A lesson which I felt impart 
 
 This vital truth unto my heart : 
 
 The Soul hath its own element 
 
 In which alone it finds content. 
 
 And in that element the Right, 
 
 The Good, the True reign in their might 
 
 And every soul who'd happy be 
 
 Must yield to their authority. 
 
 Like all things else which God hath made. 
 
 The Soul hath its own limits laid. 
 
 Within which limits, if contained, 
 
 The sweetest, truest rest is gained. 
 
 But let it once those bounds o'ergo. 
 
 For rest it findeth only woe. 
 
 And, like the bird that skims the air. 
 
 Sporting amid the heaven's bright glare, 
 
 If taken from its element 
 
 Is full of grief and discontent ; 
 
 So is the Soul if not confined 
 
 Within the sphere which God assigned ; 
 
 It feels no touch of Joy's caress, 
 
 But finds all care and deep distress. 
 
 'Tis true its nature clearly proves 
 That rest is what the Soul most loves. 
 And for this rest it will contend 
 Unhappy till it gains its end. 
 And yet, the more for rest sincere 
 It seeks without its proper sphere, 
 The further from this rest 'twill be, 
 The deeper grow its misery. 
 But, when within its proper bound. 
 It seeks for rest — there rest is found, 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 205 
 
 And though Life's storms rage wild and high, 
 And fierce winds beat the angry sky. 
 Though sorrows gather thick and fast. 
 Misfortune blows its fiercest blast, 
 Though earth may shake from pole to pole, 
 Without a bound, without control. 
 The Soul, though cradled in its wrath, 
 Will at its frantic fury laugh. 
 And, trampling all beneath its feet, 
 Will rise triumphant to its seat 
 And there enjoy, unknown to woes, 
 A sweet and undisturbed repose. 
 
 SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS. 
 
 Yes! This is your anniversary day — 
 
 — The end of your seventy-fifth year — 
 And you've journeyed a long and a devious way. 
 
 Bright at times and then cloudy and drear. 
 What a lengthy existence to have on this earth ! 
 
 And what changes you've seen here and there. 
 Some bringing to mortals much gladness and mirth, 
 
 And some much of sorrow and care. 
 
 As you look back today o'er the many long years 
 
 Whose ills you've so ably withstood. 
 With their sorrow and gladness, their hopes and their fears, 
 
 Working either some evil or good. 
 You will promptly recall all your own ups and downs, 
 
 With the joys and the sorrows that came. 
 The good things that Fortune bestowed — and the frowns — 
 The reverses you've had and the victor's glad crowns 
 
 All of which you can readily name. 
 
 It is surely a time for most hearty good cheer, 
 
 For friends to speak words warm and kind ; 
 For congratulations from all who are dear, 
 
 With their prayers and good wishes combined ; 
 Hence your husband and children step forth to express 
 
 Our pleasure and hearty delight 
 At having your presence yet with us to bless. 
 With your kindness of heart and your loving caress 
 To help us in living lives noble and true. 
 In upholding the Right in whatever we do. 
 
 And in making our days ever bright. 
 
206 WAR VERSE 
 
 Yes ! We're happy, indeed, to know that your life 
 
 Has been spared to us all to this day. 
 That, as we have moved forward 'mid Earth's stress and strife, 
 You have been such a factor, as mother and wife, 
 
 In smoothing and brightening our way. 
 What you have been to us we never can tell, 
 
 As a helper, adviser and friend. 
 And what you have done all dark clouds to dispel 
 And our lives all to brighten we'll cherish full well 
 
 Till this earth-life and memory end. 
 
 And we know you've been happy in all that you've done — 
 
 — Helping others from day unto day — 
 While, doing for husband and children, you've won 
 
 Our love and devotion alway. 
 And so our good wishes and prayers we unite 
 
 That, both for your own sake and ours. 
 The Fates may all find it their chiefest delight 
 To grant you as many more years of Earth's light 
 As you've already had and may make these years bright 
 
 With abundance of sunshine and flowers. 
 
 As your husband I've lived with you near fifty years, 
 
 And hence should a something more know 
 Of what your life's been — something more than appears 
 
 From what mere observation may show. 
 And I speak but small part of the truth when I say 
 
 That, during our long wedded life. 
 You have been ever faithful, from day unto day, 
 To both children and me in the most loving way, 
 
 As an ever fond mother and wife. 
 
 How long have I known you? Go back many years 
 
 To that early and fondly loved home 
 Where you lived your young life amid all that endears 
 
 And where little unpleasant dared come, 
 There, with father and mother and sisters so dear, 
 
 And brothers about you alway, 
 I first saw your face, with your purpose sincere, 
 To plan and to help and, with hearty good cheer, 
 To build up a home-life attractive and bright 
 So that all could enjoy it with constant delight 
 
 And be happy from day unto day. 
 
 I call to mind also those bright college days 
 
 When often we met here and there. 
 As we journeyed along in our different ways, 
 
 With but little of worry or care. 
 
AND OTHER VERSK 207 
 
 I knew you then slightly and never once thought, 
 
 With the changes to come in my life, 
 And with all the good things that might chance to be brought 
 To cheer me and bless as I struggled and wrought, 
 That you'd be the person to comfort my heart 
 And the richest of Life's richest blessings impart 
 
 By becoming my true, loyal wife. 
 
 You'll recall that glad day when we took that stern vow 
 
 To be husband and wife evermore, 
 But permitted to know nothing more then than now 
 
 Of the Future's most bountiful store. 
 You'll recall how we started out bravely to fight 
 
 Life's battle and win a success. 
 How the sky of our future seemed cloudless and bright, 
 With nothing unpleasant or sadd'ning in sight. 
 While our hearts overflowed with a hopeful delight 
 
 We imagined could never be less. 
 
 And now, after out of your seventy-five years. 
 
 You have lived nearly fifty with me. 
 You know married life, not as it appears. 
 
 But as 'tis in "stern reality." 
 You know of its hardships, vexations and cares 
 
 Which darken full often its way. 
 And of the full measure of good things it bears 
 The home-life to brighten and all that it spares 
 
 Of worry and pain in Life's fray. 
 
 Today we go back and look over the way 
 
 That together we've trod here and there. 
 Calling clearly to mind the unpleasant, dark day 
 
 As well as the day that was fair. 
 We know that we've had deepest sorrow and pain, 
 
 With discomforts both trying and sore. 
 While we also have had much success with its gain 
 And our full share of blessings and good to sustain, 
 
 And to bring to us joy in rich store. 
 
 Yes ! Many bright days in our life we have had. 
 Bringing much of warm sunshine and cheer. 
 
 And many good things that have made our hearts glad 
 Have come to us year after year— 
 
 Our love for each other— of all things, the best- 
 Has given us a constant delight. 
 
 And the loves of our children have made our lives blest. 
 
 Driving far from our hearts much of care and unrest 
 And making them cheerful and bright. 
 
208 WAR VERSE 
 
 But, while we've had pleasure, we've also had pain, 
 
 And bright sunshine's been followed by storm, 
 And after great gladness, again and again 
 
 We've had grief in its crudest form — 
 Death has entered our house-hold and taken away 
 
 Two children we cherished most dear, 
 Thus robbing our home of the brightness of day 
 And leaving our hearts with no comforting ray 
 
 Of aught that could bring us good cheer. 
 
 Se we've journeyed along 'mid both sunshine and shade, 
 
 Striving ever to give of our best 
 To help on the Right as each day's calls were made, 
 To weaken the Wrong of whate'er form or grade, 
 And to make all about us who needed our aid 
 
 To be always happy and blest. 
 And, through the experience together we've known, 
 
 Our love's become more and more strong, 
 While nearer in fellowship true we have grown, 
 And our hearts learned to beat in a much sweeter tone 
 And in harmony rich which we both can but own 
 
 Tuned our lives to a happier song. 
 
 And now, after all of your seventy-five years 
 
 With the years spent as mother and wife. 
 Your husband and children, for all that endears 
 
 You to them in this mortal life. 
 Come forward their thanks and their love to express 
 
 And to crown you the noblest and best 
 Of all womankind and to pray God to bless 
 And to keep you from all that brings care or distress, 
 And to grant you full many long years yet to live 
 And to give you the best that His hand has to give 
 
 These years to make happy and blest. 
 
 SURPRISES. 
 
 Were the hearts of mankind all exposed to our view — 
 
 — The hearts of each neighbor and friend — 
 And could we read their contents — the fixed and the true, 
 
 With their all from beginning to end — 
 How many surprises we'd meet here and there, 
 
 How many new characters see. 
 How many opinions, considered as fair. 
 We'd be forced to abandon because made aware 
 
 That they failed with the facts to agree. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 209 
 
 If we could see others as they themselves see 
 
 And know them as they really are. 
 Could measure, in fact and in fullest degree, 
 
 Their true and exact character, 
 How many a hero would vanish from sight 
 
 And idol would be overthrown. 
 How changed be the world and, with much added light, 
 Some lives most obscure would shine dazzlingly bright 
 And others, descending from some lofty height, 
 
 Would find dwelling among "the unknown." 
 
 Some of those we'd respected and honored the most. 
 
 Having crowned them with virtues most high, 
 Would pass from our light and quickly be lost 
 
 In the great common crowd hurrying by, 
 While of those we'd avoided — the every-day plain 
 
 Whom we scarce ever thought of at all, 
 Some would come promptly forward and quickly would gain 
 Our highest regard which they'd ever retain 
 
 As true heroes whate'er might befall. 
 
 Yes ! Surprises would meet us from every known side, 
 
 From those we'd thought little about — 
 From those we'd imagined must ever abide 
 
 With the hosts counted "clear down and out." 
 We'd find in the hearts of full many of such 
 
 Rich germs which we ne'er understood. 
 And which only needed the nourishing touch 
 Of some kindly helper, to yield the world much 
 
 Of that which is lastingly good. 
 
 The great common throng passes quietly by, 
 
 And we note very little of worth 
 Among its vast numbers, except they supply 
 
 Some few of the dwellers on earth. 
 We think one and all as of little account, 
 
 Knowing naught of what's worthy and true, 
 Having nothing about them to help them to mount 
 To any high place where their service may count 
 
 In helping their fellow's life through. 
 
 And yet among these full many there are 
 
 Who are making a brave, manly fight 
 (While bearing huge burdens of worry and care) 
 
 For the True and the Good and the Right ; 
 While full many others, if given a chance 
 
 And a little of help now and then ; 
 Would rise in their manhood and lead the advance 
 In all noble work and thus would enhance 
 
 The richness of life among men. 
 
210 WAR VERSK 
 
 For the noblest, the truest, the best of mankind 
 
 Are not always the ones who appear 
 In the highest of places, where they're sure to find 
 
 Admirers from far and from near. 
 But often are those whose lives are obscure. 
 
 Who labor and struggle each day 
 To do their full duty with purposes pure, 
 Aiming ever to help some few evils to cure, 
 
 Though it be in the most humble way. 
 
 Moreover we know, 'mid the bustle and strife 
 
 In pushing all good work along. 
 That our progress is slow in the bettering of life 
 
 Without help from the great common throng, 
 And we rarely can carry a good measure through 
 
 And maintain it in force firm and sure. 
 Unless we secure the support strong and true 
 Of those all around us who only pursue 
 
 A life the most plain and obscure. 
 
 There is more or less goodness in each human heart. 
 
 More or less of the worthy and true. 
 And this into healthy, strong being will start 
 
 If once given love's sunshine and dew. 
 'Tis neglect and environment nourish the bad 
 
 And cause it to flourish and grow 
 In most erring hearts which, if only they had 
 Love's training and care, would grow to be glad 
 
 And bright with pure Virtue's warm glow. 
 
 Hence "Duty Call" bids us be kindly and true 
 
 To all we may meet on our way. 
 Giving aid here and there with this object in view 
 
 To help onward our fellows alway. 
 For the world of humanity only will grow 
 
 To be better through kindness and love, 
 And hence we should labor our kindness to show 
 And on each needy mortal some good to bestow 
 
 And thus our true brother love prove. 
 
 WHEN TO "CAST THE FIRST STONE." 
 
 Before we find fault with mankind here and there 
 Or our neighbors just over the way — 
 
 Before we condemn them or merely declare 
 They are not to be trusted alway. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 211 
 
 Let us scan our own records and see how we stand 
 
 In the line of what's worthy and good, 
 Let us learn if we have any right to demand 
 Our fellows' respect because, with heart and hand, 
 We have wrought as we best understood. 
 
 Before we speak ill of some person we know 
 
 Because he did this or that thing — 
 Before we turn censor and hasten to show 
 
 The facts in some charge we may bring. 
 Let us learn what a training that person has had. 
 
 What a chance has been his in life's race. 
 And then ask if our record would not be as bad 
 As is his and its ending as woefully sad, 
 
 Had our lot been to act in his place. 
 
 Before we heap censure on any frail one 
 
 Who is struggling in life's bitter fight — 
 Before we denounce him for what he has done 
 
 That we think is not true to the Right, 
 Let us carefully study our acts in the past. 
 
 Call to mind what we've done here and there, 
 Be sure that our influence for right has been cast. 
 That we've done our full duty from first to the last 
 
 And been true to what's good everywhere. 
 
 Before we pick flaws with the record that's made 
 
 By this or that one we may know — 
 Before we assert that some mortal has strayed 
 
 From the way in which all men should go ; 
 Let us look to ourselves and see if full clear 
 
 Are our own lives without and within, 
 And if we can say truly to all far and near 
 That we've constantly labored with purpose sincere 
 
 These lives to keep free from all sin. 
 
 Before we condemn the course others pursue 
 
 In the doing of things their own way — 
 Before we complain, from our one-sided view, 
 
 Of their actions in life's bitter fray. 
 Let's be sure that our actions have been for the best 
 
 And that we, as the years roll along, 
 Are faithfully living at honor's behest 
 And can feel, if once put to the most rigid test, 
 
 We would prove in all good to be strong. 
 
 Before we pass judgment on some fellow man 
 For what we think is some wicked act — 
 
 Before we accuse him of some vicious plan 
 Which seems proven by this or that fact, 
 
212 WAR VERSE 
 
 Let's be fully convinced that our own acts have been 
 
 In accord with the best moral light, 
 And that we have been true to the noblest within 
 The natures we have and that we have walked in 
 The path of the Worthy and Right. 
 
 It is easy to see when our neighbor goes wrong, 
 
 To find fault with the thing he may do. 
 To note here and there, as he journeys along, 
 
 Where he strays from the Right and the True, 
 But for us 'tis not easy to see where we stray 
 
 From the path of the upright and good. 
 To find fault with the wrong we may do day by day 
 Or to note where our footsteps have wandered away 
 
 From the Right we full well understood. 
 
 It is best, now and then, to speak out very plain, 
 
 To condemn in the most forceful way, 
 To make no endeavor at all to restrain 
 
 The strong words we are prompted to say, 
 But it never is best to find fault constantly 
 
 With what this or that mortal may do, 
 Or to claim that we only from error are free 
 And are full of all goodness because only we 
 
 Have a love for the Worthy and True. 
 
 When each one does his duty in studying self 
 
 With an honest and unbiased mind, 
 And comes to know clearly bis own moral health 
 
 With the good and the bad he may find, 
 And when he's convinced that he's hardy and strong 
 
 And to full moral manhood has grown. 
 Knows he's made a clean record and to him belong 
 No regrets or remorse for the doing of wrong. 
 
 Then he justly "can cast the first stone." 
 
 SUCCESS. 
 
 We call it success when, in this or that way, 
 
 One has gained either fortune or fame. 
 Or has reached some position where, with great display, 
 
 The crowd gladly honors his name. 
 We call it success when someone piles up gold — 
 
 — A million of dollars or more — 
 Or has gained some position or place where, behold ! 
 He gains the attention of numbers untold 
 
 Who load him with praise or adore. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 213 
 
 We call this success without seeking to know 
 
 How the gold or position was gained, 
 Or whether the winner's been honest or no 
 
 And the law of right dealing maintained. 
 While we think of the end and are thus satisfied, 
 
 Full oft the real facts would declare 
 That the winner all laws of the Right had defied 
 And what was decreed with his own good as guide 
 He had hastened to do, even to over-ride 
 
 The Just and the Good everywhere. 
 
 But this is not success and never can be, 
 
 No matter how much it may bring 
 Of gold, or position of highest degree, 
 
 Or how loudly its praise we may sing. 
 The piling up gold or the gaining of place 
 
 Can never win highest success, 
 E'en when done with all honor, but 'tis a disgrace 
 When the one who is seeking it enters Life's race 
 And dares all his sense of the Right to efface, 
 
 Sacrificing the great for the less. 
 
 Let it be understood by mankind everywhere 
 
 That no worthy success can be won 
 Where the Right's disregarded or evil deeds share 
 
 In achieving the thing that is done. 
 The one true success that can ever be gained, 
 
 Or is fit to be called by that name. 
 Is that which is gained where the Right is maintained 
 And the winner wins out with his honor unstained, 
 
 And with nothing to put him to shame. 
 
 Merely winning of wealth true success never won. 
 
 Although millions the winner may claim. 
 Nor has one gained success merely by what he's done 
 
 To get place which brings honor and fame. 
 For the greatest of failures are frequently made 
 
 By those who've gained highest of place. 
 While our princes of wealth so often have played. 
 In getting their wealth, the base "tricks of the trade," 
 
 That they've won not success but disgrace. 
 
 True success can be won only when Right is done 
 
 And obeyed full and free everywhere, 
 When the seeker alway can truthfully say 
 
 He's not wronged any one here or there. 
 We make life a success, not by what we may get 
 
 From out of this world where we live, 
 
214 WAR VERSE 
 
 But by what we put in, with our hearts firmly set 
 To be helpful to all and all good things abet, 
 And by what of ourselves we may give. 
 
 Each one makes a failure if he fails to grow 
 
 In all that is worthy and true, 
 Or if life he's so lived that he's nothing to show 
 
 That he's labored this one thing to do, 
 While success comes to him who develops the best 
 
 That in his frail nature is found 
 And who proves himself victor in wrong's every test 
 And stands for the Right with true courage and zest 
 
 'Mid temptations which ever abound. 
 
 No ! The winning of place cannot give one success, 
 
 No matter how dazzling or high. 
 Nor the gold one may treasure, the more or the less, 
 
 With all the choice things it can buy. 
 But the building of character worthy and true, 
 
 Developed to highest estate, 
 With a courage at all times the Right to pursue 
 And to lead one each morning the fight to renew 
 Against all that's unworthy which comes to his view — 
 
 — That wins a success true and great. 
 
 For success, that is worthy, is clearly defined 
 
 As doing the Right day by day 
 In all of one's actions of whatever kind 
 
 Toward all he may meet on his way. 
 No one wins success who has followed the wrong 
 
 In his dealings with men here and there. 
 Or has sacrificed manhood while passing along, 
 Or the weak has maltreated because he was strong. 
 
 Or has done what's unjust or unfair. 
 
 For the one doing right will ever so live 
 
 As to show himself helpful and kind, 
 And will give all he's possibly able to give 
 
 To better the lives of mankind. 
 And this course he'll pursue with a free heart alway, 
 
 By the doing of generous deeds, 
 By the planting of flowers along Life's rugged way, 
 The comforting those who are lonely each day, 
 The kindling in hearts that are sad Hope's bright ray, 
 The helping the weak ones in Life's bitter fray, 
 
 And relieving sore Poverty's needs. 
 
AND OTHER VERSE 215 
 
 Hence we may be assured that success is oft gained 
 
 By full many unknown here and there, 
 Who've been true to themselves and have ever maintained 
 
 Their own self-respect everywhere. 
 Of the hosts of obscure ones we meet day by day 
 
 High success very many have won — 
 Far higher and nobler than many we say 
 Have been most successful and hasten to pay 
 
 Our respects for the things they have done. 
 
 So when we would find success of the right kind, 
 
 Which will stand every possible test. 
 Or when we would know the few who can show 
 
 That they've won it — the highest and best — 
 Let us not go to those who can make most display 
 
 Because of high place or great wealth, 
 But to those who've obscurely, from day unto day, 
 Gone forward and done their full duty alway, 
 Pursuing, with caution, the one only way 
 
 That will keep them in moral good health. 
 
 DARKNESS AND LIGHT 
 
 Do you see how the flowers are all blooming, 
 
 So innocent, lovely and fair, 
 AH radiant with grace and with beauty 
 
 And with fragrance so rich and so rare? 
 As they greet us with look so attractive 
 
 And we gaze on their faces so bright. 
 We scarce see how they reached such perfection 
 
 When the dark so oft robbed them of light. 
 
 But we know while the dark came so often 
 
 To hide them away from the sun. 
 That it had its kind mission as helper, 
 
 In beauty and grace they have won; 
 And we know that they ever kept growing 
 
 Though about them 'twas black as the night, 
 For the dark had its work to accomplish 
 
 As well as the much needed light. 
 
 So each mortal has seasons of darkness 
 When the sunlight is hid from his eye, 
 
 When the heart is o'erburdened with sorrow 
 And he knows but the tear and the sigh. 
 
216 WAR VERSE 
 
 But he's sure, as he moves sadly onward, 
 Robbed alike of both hope aud delight. 
 
 That he soon will have cause for rejoicing:, 
 For the dark will give place to the light. 
 
 Thus ever we poor, feeble mortals, 
 
 When our pathway grows darksome and drear. 
 And we journey along sad and weary. 
 
 With hearts filled with worry or fear, 
 Can hope for the sunshine tomorrow, 
 
 Making cheerful all things in our sight. 
 For the gladness will banish the sadness 
 
 And the new day will bring us the light. 
 
 It is true in this life we are living, 
 
 That we reach the one uppermost mark. 
 And a character noblest develop 
 
 As we share both the light and the dark. 
 While, if we'd move onward and upward 
 
 And grow in what's worthy and right. 
 The darkness is just as essential 
 
 To our moving and growth as the light. 
 
 We should know that, while darksome and dreary 
 
 Today's lot may happen to be. 
 Tomorrow will bring us the sunshine 
 
 And our hearts from all sadness will free; 
 And that, e'en when the dark is the deepest. 
 
 If we manage to use it aright. 
 We will grow just as fast in true greatness 
 
 As though all about us was light. 
 
LIST OF 5UBJLCT5 
 
 Write out the FuU Record 
 
 Comradship . 
 
 This Little Bronze Button 
 
 After Forty Years 
 
 Billy Watson 
 
 My Treasure House 
 
 A Soldier's Love Affairs 
 
 Hurrah for the Brave Volunteers 
 
 Volunteers 
 
 Gallant Boys in Blue 
 
 He Died Where He Fell . 
 
 The Escaping Soldier 
 
 The Army of the Ohio 
 
 Not a Back Number 
 
 •Old Giory" 
 
 Our Country 
 
 Joliet's Greeting to Our Civil War Heroes 
 
 The Re-unions of Our Civil War Veterans 
 
 Abraham Lincoln 
 
 Story Told by a Soldier's Wife 
 
 The Mother's Soldier Boy 
 
 Our Fiftieth Anniversary 
 
 The Ideal Soldier 
 
 I Am Dreaming 
 
 Grand-Fat'her 
 
 (jur Departed Comrades 
 
 The Woman's Relief Corps 
 
 Going Back Fifty Years 
 
 The Soldier's VVidow 
 
 The Soldier's Monument 
 
 Our Dead Poet 
 
 How to Live 
 
 Our Answered Prayer 
 
 To My Wife 
 
 The Two Houses 
 
 The Coming Years 
 
 The Old Year 
 
 The New Year 
 
 The Fu'ture 
 
 The Old and the New 
 
 3 
 
 6 
 9 
 10 
 13 
 17 
 2C 
 25 
 26 
 27 
 28 
 3C 
 31 
 37 
 41 
 44 
 45 
 46 
 49 
 50 
 55 
 61 
 66 
 6? 
 72 
 75 
 77 
 78 
 82 
 87 
 85 
 91 
 94 
 95 
 96 
 95 
 IOC 
 103 
 105 
 107 
 
The Willow and Dew-Drop 
 Preaching and Practice 
 The Prisoner's Lament 
 It May Be 
 
 Light 'After Darkness 
 The Poor Man's Burden 
 My School Boy Friends 
 One Reason Why Religion Don't Prosper 
 Together In Silence 
 Let the Deserving Be Praised 
 little Things 
 
 The Known and the Unknown 
 Betrayed 
 
 Life Worth Living 
 The Hypocrite 
 Mother and Son 
 Light and Shade 
 '•The Man With the Hoe" Speaks for H 
 The Party Machine 
 The One True Saw 
 The Beginning and the End 
 Hope and Pray Tor the Best 
 The Old House 
 We Two 
 
 The Three Angels 
 "The Boys" 
 The Swine-Man 
 Song of the Gold King 
 With the Dying Year 
 The Wedding Anniversary 
 Rebellious 
 Seventy Yea^rs 
 The Fittest Life 
 A Morning Prayer 
 Word and Deed Prayer 
 That Brighter and Happier Day 
 Wedded Thirty-five Years 
 The Final Good Night 
 If the Spirit Be Cheerful and Bright 
 Wanting What Is Not 
 Tf One Could Live On 
 "Over There' 
 One More Chance 
 Onward and Upward 
 Thanksgiving Day 
 
 imself 
 
 105 
 113 
 114 
 115 
 116 
 119 
 121 
 124 
 127 
 129 
 131 
 133 
 134 
 136 
 137 
 138 
 139 
 140 
 143 
 146 
 147 
 149 
 ISO 
 151 
 I5i 
 153 
 154 
 156 
 157 
 158 
 159 
 160 
 161 
 164 
 164 
 165 
 167 
 168 
 170 
 171 
 J 75 
 174 
 176 
 179 
 182 
 
Eighty Years Old 
 
 
 
 
 185 
 
 Brother Love 
 
 
 
 
 188 
 
 Heart and Hand Gifts 
 
 
 
 
 190 
 
 Our Golden Wedding Day 
 
 
 
 
 1Q1 
 
 Old Age Has Both Sadness and Joy 
 
 
 
 
 195 
 
 The Soul's Rest 
 
 
 
 
 195 
 
 Seventy-five Years 
 
 
 
 
 205 
 
 Surprises . ... 
 
 
 
 
 208 
 
 \\'hen to Cast the First Stone 
 
 
 
 
 210 
 
 Success . ... 
 
 
 
 
 212 
 
 Darkness and Light 
 
 
 
 
 215 
 
iiiiiiiii 
 
 ^0^5 905 7g.-^ fl A