m 
 
Class -^C^^^c^^v?/ 
 GopightN" lllL. 
 
 COFYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
ON HURLEY HILLS 
 
 AND OTHER VERSE 
 
 BY 
 ELIAS D. SMITH 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 
 
 1911 
 

 Copyright, 1911 
 Sherman, French <S^ Company 
 
 ^ I. ^c 
 
 C:c!.Aa*to8i)0 
 

 TO 
 
 THE MANY FRIENDS 
 
 WHO IN YEARS PAST 
 HAVE SO PATIENTLY BORNE 
 WITH ME 
 
NOTA BENE 
 
 These rhymes were written at various times 
 in a busy life for my own pleasure. Yet a few 
 friends have expressed a desire to see them gath- 
 ered together, and I hope blame will not be 
 heaped upon me, now that I have acceded to the 
 request. 
 
 A goodly proportion are re-union odes, read 
 at the annual gatherings of the regiment to 
 which I am proud to have belonged during the 
 Civil War, the 14th Regt. N. J. Vols. 6th Corps. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ON HURLEY HILLS 1 
 
 LITTLE BOY JACK 3 
 
 HOPE 4 
 
 THE LOITERER'S FAREWELL 5 
 
 REGRET 6 
 
 A FANCY FLIGHT 7 
 
 THE SHORE LIGHT 8 
 
 "THE WATER THAT SMOKES" 9 
 
 cm BONO? 11 
 
 HOREB 12 
 
 A SEA SONG 14 
 
 THE OLD AND THE NEW! 15 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN TOP 16 
 
 ANTICIPATION 17 
 
 THE STONE STEPS OF CAPRI 18 
 
 REVERIE 20 
 
 A CHRISTMAS ODE 21 
 
 A SUMMER IDYL 23 
 
 SALT SEA SENSATIONS 25 
 
 TO OUR SECRETARY 27 
 
 TROUBLE IN THE FAR EAST 28 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS 29 
 
 THE PRINCE OF PEACE 31 
 
 A SUITABLE NAME 34 
 
 THE CHEERFUL GIVER 36 
 
 MY VIS-A-VIS 37 
 
 IGNIS FATUUS 39 
 
 DRUMS AND BUGLES 43 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I PAGE 
 
 CALL THE ROLL! 47 
 
 WAITING MUSTER-OUT 49 
 
 RETROSPECT 50 
 
 FOLLOWING THE FLAG 53 
 
 TO OUR OLD FRIEND 56 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 60 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 61 
 
 THE MONOCACY FIGHT 63 
 
 OPEQUAN 67 
 
 IN EVERGREEN 69 
 
 AFTER THE BATTLE 71 
 
 PRIVATE M'GINN 74 
 
 THE SIGNAL GUN 77 
 
 DOWN THE COMING YEARS 80 
 
ON HURLEY HILLS 
 AND OTHER VERSE 
 
ON HURLEY HILLS 
 
 On Hurley hills, 
 In beauty, day-break flushes fall; 
 Night, fleeing, draws aside her pall ; 
 The stars grow dim and from the East 
 The first faint rays of light are cast 
 
 In tender thrills 
 
 On Hurley hills. 
 
 On Hurley hills 
 The morning sun slants long and low; 
 The hill-tops quiver in the glow, 
 The meadows hold their veil of mist. 
 Soft web of pearl and amethyst 
 
 From fairy mills 
 
 On Hurley hills. 
 
 On Hurley hills 
 The sun sinks slowly in the west 
 Flecking the flame-tinged mountain crest. 
 Long shadows steal across the vales. 
 The hollows darken — daylight fails 
 
 With quiv'ring thrills 
 
 On Hurley hills. 
 
 [1] 
 
On Hurley hills 
 The night comes down. The twinkling star 
 Looks from its heavenly place afar — 
 No sound is heard in earth or sky, 
 But Heaven to Earth seems drawing nigh, 
 
 And peace distils 
 
 On Hurley hills. 
 
 [3] 
 
LITTLE BOY JACK 
 
 It was just a brief note that she hurriedly 
 wrote 
 And then on the wings of the lightning it 
 sped, 
 And stopped at my door. I soon read it o'er: 
 "Our little boy Jack is dying," she said. 
 
 This was all that she said, but I saw overhead 
 The cloud that was hanging dark over our 
 home. 
 
 Nestling under the hill so peaceful and still, 
 And the note meant only the one word 
 
 By day and by night, in the darkness and light, 
 Back to my home I hurriedly sped. 
 
 And stood at my door. The struggle was 
 o'er, 
 "Our little boy Jack is dead," she said. 
 
 [3] 
 
HOPE 
 
 "The harp that once thro' Tara's halls 
 The soul of music shed, 
 Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls 
 
 As if that soul were fled." — Thos. Moore. 
 
 The hand that struck its chords, no more 
 
 Shall wake its tones to life, 
 Nor sweep its strings as oft before 
 
 To sing of love or strife. 
 
 The old-time minstrel's hand is still, 
 The "soul of music" still remains; 
 
 A gentler hand the harp shall thrill, 
 And sing in sweeter strains. 
 
 [*] 
 
THE LOITERER'S FAREWELL 
 
 How can I bear to leave thee, 
 One parting thought I give thee, 
 On thy bright waters flowing, 
 One fond last look bestowing. 
 
 Farewell! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 
 
 Swift have the hours been flying, 
 Delights each day denying, 
 Yet other pleasures bringing 
 Round which my thoughts arc clinging. 
 Farewell ! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 
 
 From thy rock-mounted chalets 
 We scan the outspread valleys. 
 Or watch the sunset gleaming. 
 With golden radiance streaming. 
 
 Farewell! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 
 
 Sweet are thy buds and flowers. 
 Thy woodland walks and bowers. 
 Balmy thy air — life giving — 
 Life sure is here worth living. 
 
 Farewell! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 
 
 Though other scenes may woo me, 
 No fairer spot comes to me ; 
 When far away I'm straying. 
 Still will my heart be saying 
 
 Farewell! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 
 
 [5] 
 
REGRET 
 
 Along the gray sands two lovers were stray- 
 ing 
 Where sea-birds flew, 
 Where on the low shore the bright waves were 
 playing 
 And the soft breezes blew. 
 The sun sank low while the lovers were stray- 
 ing 
 And each to the other sweet secrets was saying 
 While the soft breezes blew 
 In the long, long ago. 
 
 No more by the shore the lovers are straying. 
 
 Heigh-ho ! Heigh-ho ! 
 The years have crept on. Time makes no de- 
 laying. 
 
 Heigh-ho ! for the long ago ! 
 Memory now on their heart strings is playing, 
 Each still for the other is heard sadly saying, 
 
 While the soft breezes blow, 
 
 "Heigh-ho ! for the long ago." 
 
 [6] 
 
A FANCY FLIGHT 
 
 (Presentation Ode.) 
 
 High up above the mountain top 
 
 Where storm-clouds sweep and lightnings 
 
 flash, 
 Unmoved by storm or tempest blast, 
 By tawny Tiber's rolling flood, 
 See, floating in the ether there 
 The eagles of the upper air ! 
 
 By tawny Tiber's rolling flood 
 Serene, in conscious majesty 
 In bygone years a city stood 
 And distant nations quaked to see 
 'Neath circling walls or gilded dome 
 The eagles of imperial Rome! 
 
 In later years an empire rose 
 
 And blazed its path through blood and smoke 
 
 At beck of one whose iron will 
 
 Made rulers tremble when he spoke. 
 
 In myriad camps, in sunlight shone 
 
 The eagles of Napoleon ! 
 
 To-day the golden eagles swoop 
 And drop to earth, to serve our end. 
 They testify in slight degree 
 How much we value you, old friend. 
 For now, dear comrade, they shall prove 
 The eagles of our constant love. 
 [7] 
 
THE SHORE-LIGHT 
 
 Bright spark on yon low-Wing shore! 'twixt 
 
 me and thee 
 Stretch troubled waves and many a hidden 
 
 rock and shoal ; 
 Yet b}^ thy friendly light I safely guide my 
 
 way 
 And peaceful steer my bark to its far-distant 
 
 goal. 
 So shall my life, forever cheered by Truth's 
 
 bright ray 
 Be led through darkest night to Love's eternal 
 
 day. 
 
 [8] 
 
"THE WATER THAT SMOKES" 
 
 (Victoria Falls.) 
 
 Majestic Thunder! Who, for ages gone 
 Had'st poured thy cadence to the woods alone, 
 To savage Kjaffir, or more savage beast, — 
 A cadence that, once struck, has never ceased 
 Since God first formed thy rugged fissures 
 
 vast 
 And down thy walls this flood of waters cast — 
 Here, where thy mists have mounted to the 
 
 sky 
 To fall again upon the silent wood. 
 Here, where for aeons past the white man's eye 
 Had never broached the solemn solitude, — 
 To these sequestered glades at last he came 
 And heard with reverence thy eternal roar. 
 Then, through the world he spread abroad thy 
 
 fame 
 That others too might worship and adore, 
 Then laid his bands of steel and wove his arch 
 Above thy boiling floods, to ape the bow 
 That hangs in splendor on thy feathery brow. 
 Hither we too have fared. We bare our heads 
 Before thy majesty. We feel thy power. 
 Above thy span the misty vapor spreads : 
 Around, it falls a glittering, gem-like shower: 
 
 [9] 
 
Beneath, it veils the secrets all thine own, 
 And over all, there sounds thj thundering 
 monotone ! 
 
 Great God of Nature! Who in ages past 
 Did'st rear this witness to Thy power so vast, 
 Accept this tribute of these later days. 
 Our weak attempt to voice a song of praise! 
 
 Rhodesia, Africa. 
 
 [10] 
 
cm BONO? 
 
 For asons past it guarded well 
 The mystery of its silent realm, 
 Unbroken by the foot of man 
 Unchallenged by a wandering helm. 
 
 For ages past men strove to grasp 
 The secret of the northern pole, 
 And treasures vast of blood and gold 
 Have been the constant, dreary toll. 
 
 For men have wrestled, toiled and died. 
 And ships upon an ice-bound track 
 Have sailed away to tempt the prize; 
 They sailed — but ah! they ne'er came back. 
 
 And now 'tis gained. We read the tale 
 Of wastes o'ercome, of barriers crossed ; 
 Yet ever question in our hearts 
 What gain can compensate the cost. 
 
 Cui bono? This we sadly ask. 
 What is the gain to human good? 
 A brief applause, a transient fame 
 'Gainst all these years of gold and blood. 
 
 [11] 
 
HOREB 
 
 I FLED to Horeb's mount 
 
 Care-worn, perplexed — 
 Great passions tore my soul, 
 Fierce conflicts vexed — 
 I fled to be alone and hide, apart 
 From man, the storm that tore my weary 
 heart. 
 
 I heard the whirlwinds rush 
 
 And felt the power 
 Of Nature's mighty breath 
 In my lone hour. 
 But it was naught to that tempestuous sweep, 
 The frenzied blast that stirred my inmost deep. 
 
 The earthquake rent the hills. 
 
 The mountains rocked. 
 Earth moaned in agony. 
 Beset and shocked. 
 But fiercer than the earthquake's mighty roar 
 The inward conflict that my bosom tore. 
 
 I saw from riven rock 
 The flames arise. 
 And Heaven's blinding flash 
 Fall from the skies. 
 But stronger than the lightning's blasting fire 
 Burned my own surging heart with furious ire. 
 [13] 
 
These wonders passed from view 
 
 And then I heard 
 The "still small voice" of Love 
 And knew my God. 
 Upon my ear the gentle accents stole, 
 I bowed in awe and Peace came to my soul. 
 
 [13] 
 
A SEA SONG 
 
 From over the sea 
 There came a message of cheer to me. 
 Mj loved one had sailed for an Eastern shore, 
 Perchance I might never see her more, 
 But out of the East came a message to me 
 
 From over the sea ! 
 
 Far over the sea ! 
 My love, I know, is thinking of me. 
 When the sun sinks low and the night comes 
 
 down. 
 Mantling the hilltop, the valley and town. 
 In the stillness a thought is given to me 
 
 Far over the sea ! 
 
 From over the sea! 
 Come back again, love, come back to me! 
 Blow gently, ye gales, nor hinder the bark. 
 As she steadily sails thro' sunshine and dark, 
 Bearing so slowly my loved one to me 
 
 From over the sea. 
 
 [14] 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW! 
 
 (Sabbath, Jan. 1, 1882, New Year's Day.) 
 
 We stand where the passing year, dying, 
 
 Ended its sad lingering day ; 
 And with all of its joys an'd its sorrows 
 
 Passed with the midnight away. 
 Great God, in the shade of Thy temple. 
 
 Stand we with deep, holy fear, 
 And we humbly confess our sad sinning 
 In the Old Year! 
 
 We stand where the coming year, smiling. 
 
 Promises pleasure and peace. 
 Bright Hope beckons onward, alluring; 
 
 Fancy paints joys ne'er to cease. 
 Great God, as we thus throng Thy temple, 
 
 And in Thy presence appear, 
 May we worthily honor and praise Thee 
 In the New Year! 
 
 [16] 
 
THE MOUNTAIN-TOP 
 
 High up in air on rugged cliffs I stand, 
 And view the mighty hills on every hand; 
 The cloud-swept peaks uplift their lofty forms, 
 Battling, for myriad years, with Winter's 
 
 storms 
 And Summer's gales. Yet when the golden 
 
 sun, 
 In changing bands of green and gray and dun. 
 Strikes the broad slopes and flecks the wooded 
 
 sides 
 In whose cool bowers the forest flower hides. 
 Or gilds the naked crest, the snow-topped 
 
 height, 
 The tumbling waterfall, with color bright, 
 I see the mighty force of kindliness 
 That touches roughness, but to soothe and 
 
 bless. 
 The loving power that conquers stalwart 
 
 might. 
 And bathes a world in gentleness and light; 
 The tender leading by a childish hand 
 Of man's rude nature I can understand. 
 
 [16] 
 
ANTICIPATION 
 
 (Philippians 1:23.) 
 
 When wilt thou call, O Lord, 
 
 And take me home? 
 When shall I hear thy welcome voice 
 Bidding my longing heart rejoice 
 
 And saying, "Come?" 
 
 I am not weary, Lord; 
 
 Life here is light. 
 Beyond desert have I been blest. 
 Of every good am I possessed; 
 
 My skies are bright. 
 
 Nor am I sad, O Lord, 
 
 Sick or heart-sore. 
 Health, wealth and fame are mine ; 
 Love's friendships round me twine; 
 
 Earth gives no more. 
 
 Yet would I go, O Lord, 
 
 For Heaven is more to me. 
 
 The lamp burns pale in noon-day sun; 
 
 Earth's joys by Heaven's are outdone; 
 I would Thy glory see. 
 
 [17] 
 
THE STONE STEPS OF CAPRI 
 
 (A Christmas Present.) 
 
 The stone steps of Capri! what a funny 
 capri-ce, 
 
 How it carries the mind away 
 To Italy's shores and the isles of old Greece, 
 
 And the sunlight on Naples' blue bay. 
 
 That an artist should sketch the old steps of 
 Capri 
 
 Was a truly artistic conceit ; 
 Adorning the wall in my snug library 
 
 It is hanging where we all can see it. 
 
 Up the cold stony stair the wayfarers climb, 
 In a clime that is sunny and fair; 
 
 With bare legs and bare arms, a step at a time, 
 To the summit their burdens they bear. 
 
 They're a rising race, and truly, I ween, 
 They seem, to the casual beholder, 
 
 To toil with bold visage, and bolder mien. 
 Up the serrated face of a boulder. 
 
 And those who come down have no downcast 
 air. 
 But daintily tread the rough way. 
 Or pause to gaze off from the top of the stair. 
 As if life were a long summer day. 
 [18] 
 
Much more can we see in the artist's whim 
 
 Of the island in far Italy, 
 As we quietly sit in the twilight dim 
 
 And musingly stare at the stair of Capri. 
 
 [19] 
 
REVERIE 
 
 Why have you charmed me so? 
 
 'Tis months since last we met, 
 
 Yet I cannot forget ; 
 And this I surely know: 
 You still do haunt me so. 
 
 You should not treat me so. 
 My head is old and gray, 
 My youth has passed away, 
 But this one thing I know: 
 You still do haunt me so. 
 
 'Tis not your fault, I know. 
 
 My thought to you w^ill go ; 
 
 Yours wander to and fro. 
 And only this I know: 
 You still do haunt me so. 
 
 This must no further go — 
 I must in peace pursue 
 My way, apart from you. 
 In friendship let me go, 
 And cease to haunt me so. 
 
 Yet this thought pains me, too; 
 For pleasant thoughts of thee 
 Wreathe in my memory: 
 I cannot bid thee go, 
 You still do charm me so. 
 [20] 
 
A CHRISTMAS ODE 
 
 (Owed to my newsboy.) 
 The winter blast is high, my boy, 
 
 And soon the snow will fly, my boy, 
 
 As heretofore; 
 So, when my evening news you bring. 
 Don't give it just a careless fling, 
 As if 'twere but a worthless thing — 
 
 Aim high, my boy. 
 
 Let fly, my boy. 
 And land it at the door! 
 
 My dooryard is so wide, my boy, 
 My patience has been tried, my boy. 
 
 In days before. 
 By searching in the gloomy night 
 For papers sometimes lost to sight — 
 The victims of the wild wind's spite. 
 
 Aim high, my boy, 
 
 Let fly, my boy. 
 And land it at the door! 
 
 The toying winds delight, my boy. 
 To catch it in its flight, my boy, 
 
 And twist it o'er. 
 They love to take it on their wings 
 From one of your nonchalant flings 
 And hide it under plants and things. 
 
 Aim high, my boy. 
 
 Let fly, my boy, 
 And land it at the door ! 
 [21] 
 
You know mv slippered feet, my boy. 
 Shrink fr>on\ the icy sleet, my boy. 
 
 It iv.akes them sore. 
 It brinifs chilblains, and other chills. 
 Sore thivAAt, the grippe, and other ills. 
 Coughs, colds, and heavy doctors* bills. 
 
 Aim high, my boy. 
 
 Let fiy, my boy. 
 And land it at the door! 
 
 I>on't send it with a cra>di, my boy. 
 Against the window sAsh, my K\v, 
 
 As once before. 
 It makes me jmnp with sudden fright. 
 My ruddy face grows blanched and white. 
 My heart gixs sinking out of sight. 
 
 Aim high, my K'vy, 
 
 Let fly, my boy. 
 And land it at the door! 
 
 Let this impress you so. my K^^y. 
 As on your rounds you go. my K\v. 
 
 Ftx^m door to door. 
 That when you reach my house each day 
 You'll just recall this simple lay. 
 And as you give your muscles play. 
 
 Aim high, my boy. 
 
 Let fly. my boy. 
 And land it at the door! 
 
 [*2] 
 
A SUMMER IDYL 
 
 (Lake Waramaug, Conn.) 
 
 A LITTLE maid I know, 
 
 Just sweet sixteen or so, 
 And she's just as pleasant as a sunny day; 
 
 She scarcely looks at me. 
 
 And yet I plainly see 
 That I can't help but love her, anyway. 
 
 I watch her quietly 
 
 From the corner of my eye, 
 
 And notice that the boys can't keep away; 
 She's set their hearts aflame, 
 Yet sure she's not to blame. 
 
 She's such a demure maiden, anyway. 
 
 At times, when she is gone. 
 The house seems drear and lone; 
 
 I wonder if returning she'll delay; 
 I wonder if from town 
 Some laddie saunters down 
 
 To meet my winsome lassie, any way ! 
 
 She flits about the house 
 
 As still as any mouse, 
 That watches when the kittens are at play; 
 
 And yet, whene'er the boys 
 
 Are full of fun and noise, 
 'Tis plain she longs to help them, anyway. 
 [23] 
 
Yet when I catch her eye, 
 
 She coldly passes by, 
 But why she does it she will never say. 
 
 I must be growing old, 
 
 And yet I will be bold 
 And tell her that I love her, anyway. 
 
 Ah, me! I have a fear 
 
 That some day, quite too near, 
 
 Some handsome lad across her path will stray ; 
 And then — you know the rest: 
 Two hearts supremely blest. 
 
 And there will be no longer Annie Way. 
 
 [24] 
 
SALT SEA SENSATIONS 
 
 (To the uncomfortable one, S. S. Catalonia, 
 Mid-Ocean.) 
 
 How beautiful the sea! 
 
 Its charms entrance me so ! 
 Its waves so lightly dance, 
 
 And I dance, too. 
 (10 minutes interval.) 
 How lovely is the sea. 
 
 With many a tint and hue ! 
 Its depths so deeply blue, 
 
 And I'm blue, too. 
 
 How changeful is the sea! 
 It looks no longer blue. 
 But now appears so pale ; 
 
 And I'm pale, too. 
 
 How stormy is the sea! 
 
 The gathering clouds I view — 
 I see its troubled breast — 
 
 I'm troubled, too. 
 
 How restless is the sea! 
 As far as one can view 
 Its waters rush and heave. 
 
 And I heave, too. 
 
 [25] 
 
How treacherous is the sea 
 
 O'er which ships come and go 
 Yet ofttimes sink below — 
 
 I, too, must go 
 
 Below ! 
 
 [26] 
 
TO OUR SECRETARY 
 
 Call us together once more, 
 
 We implore ! 
 The absentee season is o'er, 
 Long evenings are with us once more. 
 The boys are all back again home, 
 The sweet happy twilight has come. 
 We are birds of a feather, 
 We'd all flock together 
 If you'd call us together once more. 
 
 We miss the bright sun of your smile 
 That our meetings is wont to beguile, 
 And the big chunks of wisdom that shine 
 When the Twilight Club gathers to dine. 
 Call us together once more. 
 We implore. 
 
 We pray you be gracious and kind. 
 We're starving in body and mind ; 
 We want a good square dinner. 
 Each Twilight saint and sinner; 
 Nlaught else so delightful we find. 
 To call us again, be inclined. 
 Call us together once more. 
 We implore. 
 
 [27] 
 
TROUBLE IN THE FAR EAST 
 
 " Hazara, Chief of one of the warlike tribes, has 
 organized a rebellion against the Ameer, Abdurrahman 
 Kahn, who may invoke aid from India." (Telegram 
 via London.) 
 
 Great Abdurrahman, Kahn, 
 Of wild Afghanistan, 
 Hazara 'bellion on his hands, 
 In far-off foreign lands. 
 
 We pity him, 'tis true, 
 'Tis all that we can do — 
 He's not American, 
 He's only A-meer Kahn. 
 
 P'rhaps Abdurrahman Kahn 
 Outwit the rebels' plan. 
 Turn all their schemes aslant — 
 And then perhaps he can't. 
 
 If England will but aid 
 Against the rebel raid. 
 You'll see, Afghanistan, 
 That Abdurrahman Kahn. 
 
 [28] 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS 
 
 I ASKED a girl with light brown hair, 
 
 Eyes of blue and cheeks all red, 
 "Are you working for the Master?" 
 And her heart beat just the faster, 
 As she stood so bright and fair: 
 "Yes, I am, sir," soft she said. 
 
 I asked a boy with rosy face. 
 As past me on his way he sped, 
 "Are you, too, an earnest worker. 
 Gladly working, not a shirker — 
 Working where you find a place?" 
 "Yes, I am, sir," bold he said. 
 
 Now of both I asked again — 
 
 Noting that their fear had fled — 
 "Are you of the cheerful givers. 
 Whose good deeds are like the rivers. 
 Flowing thro' the fertile plains?" 
 "Yes, I am, sir," they both said. 
 
 "When the night o'erspreads the land. 
 When the sun has gone to bed. 
 Are you going to the meeting. 
 Loving comrades kindly greeting — 
 The meeting of the Mission Band?" 
 "Yes, I am, sir," they both said. 
 
 [29] 
 
Then I put a final query — 
 To tliis had my question led : 
 "Do you know the heathen nation 
 
 That will have consideration 
 In to-night's deliberation?" 
 And the answer was the cheery 
 "Yes, Siam, sir," they both said. 
 
 [30] 
 
THE PRINCE OF PEACE 
 
 (A Song of Hope.) 
 
 On Judean hills in years long past 
 There flashed a glory in the sky, 
 As angels sang, "Peace on the earth," 
 In wondrous strains of melody. 
 
 The awe-struck shepherds heard the song, 
 They saw the glory of the Lord ; 
 With eager steps they pressed their way 
 To Bethlehem's inn with one accord. 
 
 There in a manger-cradle lay. 
 In swaddling clothes, the Prince of Peace. 
 Joy to the world ! May songs of praise 
 And adoration never cease! 
 
 The years rolled on, and hearts grew cold ; 
 The child, now grown to man's estate, 
 Endured derision, scorn and rage, 
 The victim of man's cruel hate. 
 
 Until at last in devilish spite 
 Men dragged him to the green hillside 
 Where, with a thief on either hand. 
 The Prince of Peace was crucified. 
 
 [31] 
 
And ever since, man's furious hates 
 And mad designs have swept the earth 
 To mock the little stranger's claim 
 That angels echoed at his birth. 
 
 The heavens grew dark; the twinkling star 
 That led the journey of the sages 
 Paled in its beams and flickered out, 
 Enshrouded by the long Dark Ages. 
 
 For Peace had fled and War's dread woes 
 'Have seared the earth with bloody scars. 
 And countless hosts have kissed the sod, 
 The victims of unnumbered wars. 
 
 And persecution's deadly fires. 
 And revolution's lurid path. 
 Ambition's lusts, and sword, and flame 
 Have marked these following years of wrath. 
 
 Yet once again the heavens grow bright. 
 The Prince moves on the hearts of men. 
 Impelling them to thoughts of Peace 
 And cahner paths of sense again. 
 
 The air is full of melody. 
 The far-off^ song is drawing near; 
 Again we hear the angels sing 
 Though faint and low the tones appear. 
 [ 32 ] 
 
We catch the notes, we hear the song, 
 And, like the shepherds in the night, 
 We turn to Bethlehem, as of yore. 
 We haste to greet the Prince of Light ! 
 
 We move in milder temper now. 
 The blackened night of strife has flown. 
 Lift up the voice ! Prepare the way ! 
 The Prince of Peace comes to his own! 
 
 Chautauqua, 1911. 
 
 [33] 
 
A SUITABLE NAME 
 
 (For the Temple of Fame.) 
 
 I HAVE called o'er the list of the great 
 
 In search of a suitable name. 
 It has been lots of fun, and I have hit upon one 
 To go in the Temple of Fame. 
 He's a very ubiquitous man, 
 Sometimes an iniquitous man, 
 But he's mostly a man who does good when he 
 can. 
 
 And his name is (?) You've heard it. 
 
 There is Adam and Abram and Moses, 
 
 Darius and Cyrus and Saul, 
 Isaiah and Samuel, Alexander and Daniel, 
 Zenophon and Xerxes and Paul. 
 But mi/ man's a particular man, 
 A very orbicular man. 
 All over the world his name has been whirled. 
 And you know it ! You've heard it. 
 
 There's Homer and Caesar and Knox, 
 
 Columbus and Virgil and Plato, 
 Shakespeare and Lord Byron, Tom Paine and 
 O'Brien, 
 
 And P. G.— that's Peter the Great, Oh ! 
 My man's an illustrious man. 
 He's a very industrious man. 
 He never will shirk his duty or work, 
 And his name is (?) You know it! 
 [3*] 
 
There's Longfellow, Bryant and Holmes, 
 
 Napoleon, Barnum and Cook, 
 Dear old Cicero, Messrs. Morton, Bliss & Co. 
 Burton, Jefferson and Sheridan Shook. 
 My man is a sagacious man, 
 A somewhat mordacious man. 
 His scintillant wit, without hurting, can hit, 
 And his name is (?) You've heard it! 
 
 Then there's Calvin and Grinnell and Clay, 
 Lowell, Webster, Dante and Lenoir, 
 Lord Nelson, Ed. Harrigan, Gen. Grant and 
 Phil. Sheridan, 
 
 Who "fit with me into the war." 
 But my man's an oracular man, 
 A very spectacular man. 
 You are all in a maze as at him you gaze, 
 A|nd his name is (?) You've heard it! 
 
 He's a poet — a scholar — a priest, 
 
 A soldier — a statesman — a sage, 
 A landsman — a sailor — an artist — a tailor, 
 He's the foremost man of the age. 
 For he's a most rational man, 
 A world-wide, international man; 
 All lands of the earth he claims for his birth 
 
 And his name is JOHN SMITH. 
 
 [S5] 
 
THE CHEERFUL GIVER 
 
 Go forth, little coin, on your mission of love 
 And do all the good that you can ; 
 
 The angels of mercy look down from above 
 To see what I'm doing for man. 
 
 The minister told us to-day of the woe 
 And sin that is cursing the earth. 
 
 And so I suppose you had better go 
 And help along all you are worth. 
 
 You are little, I know, but no doubt there'll be 
 more 
 
 To aid in the great work in view, 
 And nobody knows, on that far-away shore, 
 
 How much e'en a penny can do. 
 
 I ought to give something to aid in the work; 
 
 You'll help along somewhat, I guess ; 
 You see you are sent because you're a cent 
 
 And I find that I have nothing less ! 
 
 [36] 
 
MY VIS-A-VIS 
 
 (By a " Stay-at-Home.") 
 
 You are back, I see, 
 And I'm so glad. It is so sweet 
 Once more to gaze across the street 
 No more an empty chair to see. 
 These days have weary been to me, 
 But now, you're back, I see. 
 
 You're back, I see. 
 For days I gazed across the way 
 In earnest hope that each new day 
 Would bring you into sight once more 
 To cheer my labors as before; 
 
 And now, you're back, I see. 
 
 You're back, I see. 
 I hope you've had a glorious time 
 Sojourning in some other clime, 
 On mountain height, by woodland lake, 
 Or ocean's shore where billows break; 
 
 And now, you're back, I see. 
 
 You're back, I see. 
 I tarried here and did my task 
 Each weary day. I'd only ask 
 That through your window I might see 
 Your shapely form, my Vis-a-vis; 
 
 And now, you're back, I see. 
 [37] 
 
You're back, I see. 
 Turn round and look across the street. 
 Just give our eyes a chance to meet 
 And make my irksome task grow light. 
 You surely do not treat me right, 
 
 For still your back, I see. 
 
 Your back alone, I see! 
 I ne'er have seen you face to face. 
 You see it's a peculiar case, 
 For though you are my Vis-a-vis, 
 You never yet have thought of me, 
 And every time I glance at thee 
 
 I only know, your back, I see. 
 
 [88] 
 
IGNIS FATUUS 
 
 (An Arcadian Idyl.) 
 
 When you go to Digby town 
 
 You must surely write it down 
 To put up at The Myrtle's pleasant shades. 
 
 It is such a homelike place, 
 
 And the housemaids, full of grace. 
 Will steal your heart away — those lovely 
 
 maids — 
 For they wear the oldtime cap and kirtle 
 
 At The Myrtle. 
 
 You will be as in a dream, 
 
 For Evanejeline will seem 
 Reincarnated and moving as of yore. 
 
 And you will think that Time has turned, 
 
 For the joy of all concerned. 
 His hourglass back a century or more 
 When you see them wear the cap and kirtle 
 
 At The Myrtle. 
 
 The dress is not a mystery. 
 
 But a bit of ancient history 
 That has wandered down the years from long 
 ago. 
 
 When the girls of Arcadie 
 
 Were so beautiful to see; 
 
 [39] 
 
But their successors are as pretty, charming, 
 
 bright and witty 
 When they wear the oldtime cap and kirtle 
 At The Myrtle. 
 
 This advice we jotted down 
 
 And when we reached the Digby town 
 We told Jehu, who drove us up the street, 
 
 To seek "The Myrtle Inn," 
 
 For 'twould be a mortal sin 
 To come so far and not to see the sweet 
 Young maidens wear the oldtime cap and kirtle 
 
 At The Myrtle. 
 
 Alack, and well-a-day! 
 
 How it grieves my heart to say 
 That most sorely disappointed were we all, 
 
 For though we watched with care 
 
 Not a maiden young and fair. 
 Old and ugly, slim and fat, short or tall. 
 Saw we wear the oldtime cap and kirtle 
 
 At The Myrtle. 
 
 [40] 
 
DRUMS AND BUGLES 
 
 MILITARY VERSE 
 
DRUMS AND BUGLES 
 
 (Cedar Creek, Virginia, October 19, 1864.) 
 Surprise. 
 
 Hark ! hark to the drums, 
 Fretting the air of the startled morn ! 
 
 How the long roll comes, 
 Waking the echoes in early dawn ! 
 
 Far on our left, see 
 Mists on the valley, mountain and hill ! 
 
 Twig, bush, and tall tree. 
 Wrapped in a ghost-pall, murky and still. 
 
 Down through the white mist 
 Struggle the rays of the morning light — 
 
 Flashes of amethyst — 
 Greeting but faintly the straining sight. 
 
 Veiled in the thin light 
 Silently covering the meadows, see 
 
 JBayonets flashing bright 
 Over the long lines of infantry. 
 
 See ! they are on us ! 
 Rank upon rank through the haze they pour. 
 
 Breaking upon us 
 Like waves of the sea, with angry roar. 
 
 [43] 
 
Out of the thickets 
 Comes the foe as 'twere dragons' teeth sown, 
 
 Scattering our pickets 
 Like wind when it blows the ripe thistle-down. 
 
 Now the big guns bay, 
 Adding their roar to the musket's note — 
 
 Now wilder the fray — 
 Hear the shell hiss from the cannon's throat! 
 
 Hark ! hark to the drums ! 
 Now the sounds change — they tell of defeat. 
 
 Louder the wail comes — 
 Sullenly now they are beating "retreat." 
 
 And the sun, as it lifted and shone through the 
 haze. 
 Looked down on an army all shattered and 
 torn, 
 Saw our leaders disheartened — our men in a 
 daze 
 And twenty guns lost in the early mom. 
 
 Rally, 
 
 Hear the bugles blow! 
 Halting the disordered lines of men ; 
 
 How clear the notes go, 
 Rousing them up to duty again. 
 [44] 
 
Behind the stone walls, 
 Offering screen from the enemy's sight, 
 
 Answering the sharp calls. 
 Broken battalions in squads reunite. 
 
 Across the broad pike 
 O'er which we toiled in days but just gone 
 
 Regiments mass, like 
 Rock-ridges by sudden upheaval thrown. 
 
 To right and left, see, 
 Leaving the woods and wheeling in line 
 
 Troops of cavalry. 
 Rattling with sabre and clanking carbine. 
 
 On low swelling knolls. 
 See batteries in position wheel, 
 
 And from the guns rolls 
 The iron torrent of shot and shell. 
 
 Again hear bugles blow! 
 Sharply they ring in the mid-day air; 
 
 How shrill the notes flow 
 Sounding "Advance," reverse to repair. 
 
 Victory. 
 
 Where Winchester lies 
 Far to the North, on its hills of green. 
 
 Faint dust-clouds arise. 
 Like specks on the distant horizon seen. 
 [45] 
 
There's a shout in the rear: 
 Faintly it comes from the hills away, 
 
 But nearer, and near — 
 Rolling along like storm-driven spray, 
 
 Still nearer it sounds, 
 Till galloping down in the bright sunshine 
 
 Our old leader bounds. 
 And gallant Sheridan sweeps down the line ! 
 
 Hear the bugles blow! 
 Triumphant trumpetings long and large! 
 
 Hear the wild notes flow, 
 Fiercely sounding mad calls for a charge! 
 
 And the sun, as it set o'er the Western hills 
 Looked down on our troops (no more scat- 
 tered and torn) 
 In our old camps again — how the memory 
 thrills !— 
 And forty guns won since the later morn. 
 
 U Envoi 
 
 Rich harvests have oft been reaped in that 
 valley 
 In halcyon years, free from tumult and war. 
 But richer by far was the glean of that rally 
 In the golden October of "sixty-four," 
 [46] 
 
CALL THE ROLL ! 
 
 "Call the roll, sergeant !" Thro' the live-long 
 
 day 
 The surging tide of battle rose and fell; 
 And when the evening came, o'ercast and gray, 
 
 The hissing shot and shell 
 
 And frantic yell 
 Had ceased their chilling cry and died away. 
 
 "Call the roll, sergeant!" When the day was 
 
 done 
 The crippled ranks, that in the early morn 
 Had almost thought the field already won, 
 
 Like the late autumn corn. 
 
 Shattered and torn. 
 Stood in the trenches that with gore had run. 
 
 "Call the roll, sergeant ! Answer roll call, men ! 
 
 Count up the dead, the fallen and the lost ! 
 To-morrow's sun may see the fight again. 
 
 The clinking bayonets crossed ! 
 
 Sum up the cost 
 At which we've held this fearful slaughter-pen ! 
 
 "Call the roll, sergeant I" In the misty light 
 
 The call went on; but many a name 
 Gave no reply. The silence of the night 
 Told how a life's brief flame 
 For transient fame 
 Had suddenly gone out in the fierce fight. 
 [47] 
 
Call the roll to-day ! Years have gone since 
 then. 
 No more we hear the battle's sullen roar. 
 In peace our days go hurrying by, yet when 
 From year to year we meet 
 
 And comrades, comrades greet. 
 Some face is missed we ne'er shall see again. 
 
 Call the roll again! For, ceaseless, day by 
 
 day 
 The weary toil of life goes ever on. 
 Each 3^ear some comrade drops beside the way ; 
 
 Life's field is only won 
 
 When life goes down, 
 And all that we have loved is senseless clay. 
 
 Call the roll to-day! What though our names 
 
 be few! 
 Still would we number in our ranks the 
 
 brave, 
 And call from memory's store the lost and true. 
 
 Who, nobly dying, gave 
 
 Their lives to save 
 The honor of our flag, the spangled blue. 
 
 [48] 
 
WAITING MUSTER-OUT 
 
 1865 
 
 Beneath the flag 
 In Winter's blast and Summer's sun 
 How slow the years did run! 
 
 How time did lag 
 While we our weary watches kept 
 Against the foe, while loved ones slept. 
 
 When peace had come 
 And war its banners furled once more, 
 The breezes to us bore 
 
 The song of home, 
 While we, impatient, dreamed about 
 The happy day for muster-out. 
 
 1894i 
 
 Long years have passed 
 With varying round of good and ill — 
 How slow the years move still! 
 
 We stand at last 
 And backward look along those years, 
 Recalling by-gone joys and fears, 
 
 Yet forward, too; 
 Our camping here cannot be long; 
 We hear another song, 
 
 Our home in view, 
 While we, expectant, dream about 
 And wait our final muster-out. 
 [49] 
 
RETROSPECT 
 
 1887 
 
 Since last we met the circling months have run 
 Their accustomed round, with varying grief 
 and cheer ; 
 And we who, years ago, were comrades first ac- 
 quaint 
 Once more in yearly meeting gather here. 
 
 Since last we met the Autumn's golden hours 
 Crept lingering on, crowned with rich har- 
 vest gain ; 
 While slowly lengthening shadows closed the 
 days. 
 And shortening twilight covered hill and 
 plain. 
 
 Winter, in snowy garb and mantle white, 
 
 With storm, and wind, and howling tempest 
 blast , 
 
 With its rich tracery of frost and icy gem — 
 Bleak Winter, too, is with the silent past. 
 
 Spring, like an airy maid, came tripping on. 
 Blushing with flowers and radiant with dew^ , 
 
 Filled with bright hopes, with bud and leaf and 
 spray — 
 Promise fulfilled of resurrection ever new. 
 
 [50] 
 
And once again, in glowing Summer's heat, 
 Here by cool waters meets our band once 
 more, 
 
 As, gathering from our distant homes, we greet 
 Each welcome face, and tell our battles o'er. 
 
 How time runs on ! The months and seasons 
 pass 
 Like dreams that flit before us while we 
 sleep. 
 The years go hurrying by like storm-pressed 
 clouds 
 Urged through the sky by winds' impetuous 
 sweep. 
 
 Standing to-day, within this present hour. 
 We turn and, looking back, with deep 
 thought scan 
 The years since first we grasped each other's 
 hands, 
 A third of earthly life's allotted span. 
 
 Here would we rest — our days of warring 
 
 done ; 
 
 Here pause awhile as we review the past. 
 
 Recalling, one brief moment, scenes that shall 
 
 Fill History's page as long as time shall 
 
 last. 
 
 [51] 
 
Nor would we still indulge one bitter thought 
 
 'Gainst those who bravely faced us in the 
 
 field. 
 
 Brothers once more, henceforth our motto be 
 
 One land., one flag, one Union and one 
 
 shield ! 
 
 Brothers once more, we treasure up the past 
 As stories of the gods of old entrance our 
 ears — 
 
 Brave deeds of Spartan bands in story told 
 Eclipsed by braver deeds of later years ! 
 
 Gone are our golden days; yet, year by year. 
 We gather to recount those days of yore. 
 
 To bind with memory's chain the scattering 
 threads 
 Of the old scenes, a part of which we were. 
 
 So, as the years go swiftly passing by, 
 
 Gilding with brighter glow the story of our 
 deeds , 
 While o'er our dulling senses comes the sigh 
 That swells the heart as youthful joy re- 
 cedes, 
 
 God grant us grace still in our riper years 
 To do our part. Each day may strength 
 be given 
 To conquer every foe in Life's great fight. 
 And pass triumphant to the joys of Heaven. 
 [52] 
 
FOLLOWING THE FLAG 
 
 Young men, whither bound in the hot flush of 
 youth, 
 Sturdy of limb and with hearts all aflame? 
 Your eager gaze turns to the far away 
 South — 
 Seek ye for riches, or honor, or fame? 
 "We follow the flag." 
 
 Can ye forsake the dear friends you have 
 known 
 Since the days of your boyhood, away in the 
 past ? 
 Can ye break up the sweet ties that have 
 grown 
 So closely these many years, binding you 
 fast? 
 
 "We follow the flag." 
 
 Think of the father — his eye has grown dim; 
 
 Think of the mother — her hair silvery gray; 
 He has no other to comfort and cheer him, 
 
 She will go sadly when you are away. 
 "We follow the flag." 
 
 Know ye the dangers that lie in the road, 
 Bullet and sabre cut, bayonet and shell, 
 Dungeon and prison pen, hunger's sharp 
 goad? 
 "Yes, we have heard it — we know it full well : 
 We follow the flag." 
 [5S] 
 
In the swamps of the South kirk fever and 
 pain; 
 On the fields of Virginia death rides his pale 
 horse ; 
 The meadow and upland in sunlight and rain 
 Are flecked with the shadow of many a 
 corpse. 
 
 "We follow the flag." 
 
 "Our country, imperiled by treason's red hand 
 
 Has called us to rally and crush out the foe; 
 
 Friends, home ties and loved ones are but cords 
 
 of sand, 
 
 Our country has called us and forward we 
 
 go. 
 
 We follow the flag." 
 
 Old comrades, who meet in re-union once more, 
 With forms bowed and bent — with heads 
 crowned with gray. 
 Worn wrecks still afloat from the tempest of 
 war, 
 What moves your enfeebled heart-pulses to- 
 day .'^ 
 
 "We follow the fla^. 
 
 o 
 
 "We followed it long in the days of our youth. 
 
 We followed it well until victory came. 
 We fought for that flag in the sunny South, 
 And we love it still in our old age the same. 
 We follow the flag. 
 [54] 
 
"Look on these feeble forms — see the deep 
 scar — 
 Gaze on the empty sleeve — hear the loud 
 crutch — 
 And read, in these tokens, what time cannot 
 mar — 
 The depth of devotion that cost us so much. 
 We follow the flag. 
 
 "Oh flag that we love — oh beacon of light. 
 
 Oh flag of our country, majestic and free 
 Still be thy stars and stripes emblem of right 
 Still shall our heart-throbs go leaping for 
 thee. 
 
 We follow the flag. 
 
 "Still shalt thou float, still wave thy soft folds 
 O'er a nation refined in the furnace of war; 
 
 Still will we render the wealth our heart holds 
 
 Of loving devotion that age cannot mar. 
 
 We follow the flag. 
 
 "And when the Commander shall summon us 
 home 
 To meet in a sweeter re-union above. 
 Fall gently over us, tenderly cover us. 
 
 So that in death still, oh, flag that we love, 
 We'll follow the flag." 
 
 [55] 
 
TO OUR OLD FRIEND 
 
 Some sing of the ladje faire — 
 
 The soft, fresh bloom of her cheek, 
 
 Her melting eyes, her glorious hair. 
 Her demeanor modest and meek. 
 I sing not the ladye faire. 
 
 And some of the country sing — 
 
 The charm of the grassy lea. 
 The budding flower, the bird on the wing. 
 
 The blossom on bush and tree. 
 I do not the country sing. 
 
 Some sing of the warrior bold — 
 The knight of the golden shield. 
 
 The crusader's oath, the wars of old, 
 The carnage on bloody field. 
 I sing not the warrior bold. 
 
 Some sing of the mountains gray, 
 With their snow-clad peaks in air. 
 
 Their wooded slopes w^here the wild winds play, 
 And the wild beast holds his lair. 
 I sing not the mountains gray. 
 
 Some sing of the ocean vast. 
 The roar of the angry sea, 
 The storm-tossed ship, and the straining mast 
 And the billows, rolling free. 
 I sing not the ocean vast. 
 [56] 
 
Some sing of the silver moon 
 
 As she rides the summer sky, 
 Far up aloft like a silk balloon; 
 
 They may, if they choose — not I. 
 I sing not the silver moon. 
 
 I warble another song, 
 
 I sing not by other's rule. 
 Model of patience through ages of wrong 
 
 I sing thee, the Army Mule. 
 This is my present song. 
 
 Old friend of my campaign days. 
 
 Partner for many a mile. 
 Surely I'll lift my voice in thy praise, 
 
 Though others thy kind revile, 
 
 Old friend of my campaign days. 
 
 I sing to thee, Army Mule, 
 
 Because I know thee of old ; 
 And thy quaint life, without ridicule, 
 
 Has never been fairly told. 
 I sing to thee. Army Mule. 
 
 I sing of thy earnest ways, 
 
 Thy steadily plodding gait. 
 The whole-lunged heartiness of thy brays. 
 
 Thy whole demeanor sedate. 
 I sing of thy earnest ways. 
 
 [57] 
 
I sing of thy flopping ear, 
 
 Waving witli indolent grace 
 To catch the echoes in front and rear, 
 
 Above thy impassive face. 
 I sing of thy flopping ear. 
 
 I sino' of thv archino' mane, 
 
 The silken gloss of thy hide. 
 The iron muscles that tug and strain, 
 
 And thy restless, panting side. 
 I sing of thy arching mane. 
 
 I sing of thy pensive eye, 
 
 So still, so patient, so calm. 
 And yet so sly, when your foot ''lets fly," 
 
 And makes the driver say — (naughty words) ; 
 I sing thy expressive eye. 
 
 I sing of thy paintbrush tail. 
 
 Pendant with motionless grace. 
 Or lashing thy sides like a mighty flail. 
 
 The vexing fly to displace. 
 I sing thy peculiar tail. 
 
 I sing of the gladsome note, 
 
 That swells on the troubled air 
 From the awful depths of thy cavernous 
 throat, 
 And makes the bystander swear. 
 I sing of thy gladsome note. 
 [58] 
 
I sing of thee as a whole, 
 
 Verily thou art no fool, 
 And here I proffer with all my soul, 
 
 A health to thee. Army Mule. 
 Long life to thee. Army Mule. 
 
 [59] 
 
IN MEMORIAM 
 
 MAJ. PETER VREDENBURGH. 
 
 14th N. J. Volunteers. 
 
 Killed in action Opequan, Va. 
 
 September 19, 1864. 
 
 Once we sang a martial strain, 
 
 With our faces to the foe ; 
 Sweeping o'er the sultry plain, 
 Tramping down the ripening grain , 
 
 In the days of long ago. 
 
 Bright the sun on Opequan ! 
 
 Bright the flashing river's flow ! 
 Yet the fray but just began. 
 Ere our hero's life-blood ran 
 
 In the days of long ago. 
 
 Now we sing a milder lay, 
 
 While our steps unsteady go 
 To the West ; while fades our day 
 To the night, not far away, 
 
 As we muse on "long ago." 
 
 Still we mourn our hero bold. 
 
 Backward, loving thoughts we throw. 
 For our younger love for him 
 Passing years can never dim. 
 And our love shall ne'er grow cold. 
 Though time speeds on and years grow old. 
 
 For one whom hap of war laid low 
 
 In the days of long ago. 
 [60] 
 
IN MEMORIAM 
 
 LIEUT. JOHN C. BOOTH 
 
 14th N. J. Volunteers. 
 Died May 2, 1891. 
 
 In the early years, ere the Spirit of War 
 
 Was abroad in the land on its mission 
 of woe, 
 In the twilight dim, on the soft-rippling shore 
 Of the peaceful James, 
 In musical notes, soft and low 
 
 The voice of the slave was heard 
 A^ his paddle the water stirred. 
 Singing, "Row, row, o'er the waters so blue; 
 Like a fairy I float in my gum-tree canoe." 
 
 In the later years, when the Spirit of War 
 
 Inflamed every heart ; and a nation in arms 
 Grim bivouac kept on the gun-swept shore 
 Of the troubled James ; 
 When we paused in the lull of alarms. 
 From our camp on the hill 
 In the twilight still, 
 The voice of our comrade was heard. 
 In tones that our bosoms stirred. 
 Singing, "Row, row, o'er the waters so blue; 
 Like a fairy I float in my gum-tree canoe." 
 
 [61] 
 
In these later years, when the Spirit of Peace 
 Has stilled the fierce passions of brothers to 
 rest, 
 We sigh as we think how our numbers de- 
 crease 
 When we meet year by year, far removed 
 from our quest 
 On the quiet James, 
 And the voice of our brother has touched 
 every breast 
 With that song of long ago 
 In musical notes, soft and low. 
 Singing, "Row, row, o'er the waters so blue; 
 Like a fairy I float in my gum-tree canoe." 
 
 Again we have met, in the Spirit of Peace, 
 
 But the voice of the singer we hear no more ; 
 On the river beyond he has found sweet re- 
 lease. 
 In a sunlight far brighter than shone before 
 
 On the sparkling James ; 
 But an echo comes back from that far-away 
 shore 
 And we fancy we almost hear 
 Those musical notes, soft and clear, 
 Singing, "Row, row, o'er the waters so blue; 
 Like a fairy I float in my gum-tree canoe." 
 
 [62] 
 
THE MONOCACY FIGHT 
 
 Fair in the gleam of the bright summer sky 
 The Capital lay in sixty-four, 
 While leagues away, round Petersburg's sides 
 Were rolling and surging the tides of war. 
 
 Securely it lay in indolent ease 
 In the lazy heat of the summer sun ; 
 Flags floated gay in the dallying breeze 
 O'er the stately halls of fair Washington. 
 
 Little they reckoned of danger near 
 Who thronged the streets the livelong day. 
 Was not all festive and bright with cheer.? 
 Was not the enemy far away? 
 
 There's a voice from the trenches, 
 
 A sound deep and shrill ; 
 
 It reaches the city 
 
 From mountain and hill; 
 
 It comes o'er the plain 
 
 In accents of thunder, 
 
 (Good cause for your wonder) 
 
 "Early is marching again." 
 
 [6a] 
 
Therc'ji a cry from the vHlley- 
 A cry lon^ ami loud: 
 It tdls its own story. 
 Like * dark thundor-^loud 
 
 With Hirfitninif and rain: 
 Hoed well when ye hear it-, 
 Xooti? be that ye fear it: 
 "^ Early is marching again.^ 
 
 There's a cry from Poton-^ac, 
 The dangler is near: 
 The alarm is sounding 
 111 notes sharp and clear, 
 ''X>ur efforts are vain: 
 Rouse up, ye freemen. 
 Rouse ye and be men — 
 Early is CTx>ssing again," 
 
 There's a voicv from the city- 
 A wail deep and wild: 
 It blanches the features 
 Of woman and child. 
 Men cry as in pain: 
 ^•Early is near us. 
 He does not fear us. 
 Early is raiding again," 
 
 [6*] 
 
There's a call to the trenches : 
 "I'he river is crossed 
 The enemy threatens. 
 Help! Help! or we're lost!" 
 This was the frenzied strain, 
 "Give us the Sixth Corps 
 To guard us once more 
 And stand as of yore 
 Confronting Early again." 
 
 Down from Monocacy 
 
 Comes a deep sound, 
 
 Cannon are booming 
 
 Round upon round. 
 
 Strive ye with might and with main. 
 
 Battle, ye fearless, 
 
 With bravery peerless, 
 
 Early is fighting again. 
 
 Small were our numbers, 
 But never a heart 
 Quailed at the onset; 
 Ours, the heroes' part, 
 Checker the green with slain, 
 Press to the battle 
 Mid noise and rattle; 
 We too are fighting again. 
 
 [65] 
 
Right grandly we met him 
 Though everyone knew 
 We were facing an army 
 And our numbers were few. 
 What could our efforts mean 
 Fighting so many men 
 With scarcely any men 
 And only six guns to sixteen? 
 
 Long time -we fought him, 
 
 Fought till w^e taught him 
 
 The Blue Crosses were blocking his way. 
 
 We could but meet him, 
 
 Not hope to beat him, 
 
 Only to keep him 
 
 Delayed for a night and a day. 
 
 Well-paid our losses, 
 
 Could the Red and White Crosses 
 
 But reach the scene of the fray. 
 
 When at last on his sight 
 Gleamed the capital's spires — 
 The goal of his march 
 And ardent desires — 
 With gloom and despair 
 He saw that, to greet him. 
 All ready to meet him 
 The Red and White Crosses were there. 
 Then, barred from his prey. 
 In sullen displeasure. 
 Chagrined beyond measure, 
 He turned back and went his way. 
 [66] 
 
OPEQUAN 
 
 Shenandoah Valley, Va., September 19, 1864. 
 Anniversary Ode, 1908. 
 
 Where were you forty and four years ago 
 On this nineteenth day of September.? 
 Comrades, come join us; take part in the talk 
 And tell us just what you remember. 
 
 Turn your thoughts backward and think of 
 
 the past, 
 And with it let memory dally; 
 While pleased recollections come thick and 
 
 fast 
 When you think of our work in "The Valley." 
 
 Clear rose the sun in the heavens that day 
 And soon our whole column was moving. 
 For at last we had brought old Early to bay 
 And his mettle we longed to be proving. 
 
 Sore were the memories of Maryland's field — 
 Of our stand by Monocacy's water — 
 Bright were our hopes to force him to yield, 
 Though the fight here might even be hotter. 
 
 Slowly the sun moved up in the sky, 
 
 As we pressed on the ranks of the foeman 
 
 With a cheer and a dash that soon made him 
 
 fly, 
 
 Though resisting with courage so Roman! 
 [67] 
 
Harder we pressed on, through Winchester 
 
 town, 
 Not once giving time for a rally. 
 And when the day closed, in headlong retreat 
 We had driven him far up "The Valley." 
 
 He left in our hands as trophies that day 
 Five guns and nine flags we had taken. 
 He fought a good fight, but we drove him away 
 And thus proved our courage unshaken. 
 
 But the cost ! Alas ! behind us there lay 
 Our wounded, the dead and the dying — 
 Dear price to pay for the gain of a day. 
 E'en though we had sent the foe flying! 
 
 Still rolls Opequan on toward the sea ; 
 Still droop, on its banks, the green willows ; 
 Still smile the meadow, the hilltop and lea ; 
 Still waves the ripe wheat in long billows. 
 
 Clear shines the sun in the heavens above, 
 
 In these golden days of September; 
 
 The while we look back to the days that we 
 
 love. 
 And call up the things we remember! 
 
 [68] 
 
IN EVERGREEN 
 
 Up and down God's-acre street 
 Hear the throbbing of the drum! 
 
 Bom ! Bom ! Bom-bom-bom ! 
 Hear the tread of heavy feet ! 
 Hear the wailing of the fife ! 
 See! the files of soldiers come 
 Marching to the muffled drum, 
 
 Bom ! Bom ! Bom-bom-bom ! 
 
 Not in flush of early life, 
 Not our youth in gaudy dress, 
 Banners gay and nimble step, 
 Well-lined ranks that eager press 
 Marching to the drum and fife ; 
 But a line of aged men, 
 Grizzled, crippled, worn and gray. 
 And the ranks are loose and thin 
 As they come along the way. 
 Marching to the wailing fife, 
 Stepping to the throbbing drum, 
 Bom ! Bom ! Bom-bom-bom ! 
 
 See the faces seamed by years, 
 See the frosted hair of age. 
 Empty sleeves — the limping knee — 
 Silent tales of War's stern wage. 
 
 [69] 
 
At the front there goes the flag 
 Not to breezes flaunting free, 
 Held in leash by raven ties 
 Speaking silent eulogy. 
 Every comrade's heaving breast 
 Bears an emblem sheathed in gloom; 
 One they loved has gone to rest 
 And they bear him to the tomb, 
 To the waiting, quiet tomb. 
 
 Through the paths of calm God's-acre 
 Hear the throbbing of the drum! 
 To the presence of its Maker 
 Has the parted spirit come ; 
 But the body here they lay, 
 Yield they to the grave their trust. 
 There to rest till Gabriel's day, 
 Earth to earth and dust to dust. 
 
 This the end of earthly strife. 
 Hear the wailing of the fife! 
 Hear the throbbing of the drum ! 
 Bom ! Bom ! Bom-bom-bom ! 
 
 [70] 
 
AFTER THE BATTLE 
 
 What awful shapes are these that blur the hill 
 
 And mutely stare into the azure sky? 
 What ghastly forms be they that lie so still — 
 Stiff, swollen corpses erstwhile full of life 
 And love and hope and hate and deadly strife? 
 How still they lie ! 
 
 Above, the golden sun rolls on his way 
 
 And floods with light the hilltop and the 
 plain. 
 Around, the soft winds blow and breezes stray 
 Among these piles of dead, as if to bear 
 Their parted spirits to the upper air. 
 Released from pain. 
 
 The sward is trampled and the green grass 
 stained 
 With clots of blood and brain and 
 mangled flesh ; 
 The trees are spotted as if Heaven had rained 
 In wrath, red showers to bathe the earth in gore 
 And drenched the fields with crimson, evermore 
 To weep afresh. 
 
 [71] 
 
And all around us lie, heaped upon heap, 
 
 Distorted forms once full of lusty force. 
 Now torn by shot or shell or deadly sweep 
 Of hurtling rifle-fire that filled the air 
 With flying death, sweeping the breastworks 
 bare 
 In its hot course. 
 
 Look on this form, contorted, blacked by heat. 
 
 Repulsive in its hideous shape — afl*right 
 With the fierce look of hate that found its seat 
 In the fixed eye-balls whose wide-staring gaze 
 With all its horrid gruesomeness amaze 
 And stuns our sight. 
 
 What awful passions tore his frenzied heart 
 
 In the close touch of combat hand to hand? 
 What murderous anger this that can impart 
 To the dead eye that fiendish, furious glare 
 As if the hates of Hell had centered there 
 At Death's command ! 
 
 Yet here is one whose slender boyish frame 
 
 And childish face, tell of a gentle home. 
 
 At duty's call, a warrior he came. 
 
 Though but a youth, nor deemed his fancy 
 wild 
 
 To tempt a man's endurance, though a child; 
 So did he come. 
 
 [7a] 
 
And here he lies, a smile upon his face 
 
 As if in that last gasp he caught a sight 
 
 Of the old home and felt the fond embrace 
 
 Of her whose prayers had followed where he 
 fared. 
 
 See ! in his hand her picture, as he stared 
 Through death's dim light. 
 
 Oh, why should man infuriate passions loose, 
 
 And, like a tiger pouncing on its prey, 
 Leap to the throat of fellow man, and choose 
 The devilish arts of carnage and of war 
 To drench our mother earth with reeking gore 
 In deadly fray! 
 
 Sweet Peace, forever brood above our land. 
 
 Bid the fell hates of men no longer swell, 
 
 Check the loose tongue, that flaming firebrand, 
 
 And bid the waves of madness break no more. 
 
 The maddest moving of man's heart is War : 
 And War is Hell ! 
 
 [73] 
 
PRIVATE M'GINN 
 
 Did ever you hear of Private INIcGinn? 
 Private McGinn of Company Q? 
 A roaring good fellow with a big double chin 
 And a deep-seated yearning for "mountain 
 dew" ! 
 "To waste it were sin, so here's looking at 
 
 you," 
 Said Private McGinn, of Company Q. 
 
 A rollicking lad was Private McGinn. 
 
 Wherever he went, 'twas as good as a play. 
 
 Unbounded good humor abounded in him 
 
 And livened the labors and toils of the day. 
 "A joke or a grin, on me or on you," 
 Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 
 
 The cook needed wood for the company fire, 
 So Private McGinn, he chopped down a tree 
 And then chopped it up. "I only desire 
 To work it both ways. 'Tis funny," said he, 
 
 "Down and up. I must win if stoutly I 
 hew," 
 
 Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 
 
 [74] 
 
He drew a new coat, and strutted about 
 
 As gay as a peacock, till someone said 
 
 "It's too short in the back!" "I know it," said 
 
 Mac, 
 "It's a little short now, but I know it will be 
 Long enough before another comes in, 
 So I've nothing to rue," said Private Mc- 
 Ginn of Company Q. 
 
 With a goose in his arms, he marched into 
 
 camp. 
 "Halt there!" said the guard, "you've been 
 
 robbing a farm." 
 "Not so," said McGinn, "I was taking a tramp. 
 And he hissed at the flag! — it made my blood 
 
 warm — 
 'Twas a rebel's own sin. What else could 
 
 I do? 
 I gathered him in !" — said Private McGinn 
 
 of Company Q. 
 
 When once he fell sick, he wasted away 
 To a skeleton wreck, and daily grew thin. 
 The boys all felt sad as he failed day by day 
 And watched for the end of poor Private Mc- 
 Ginn. 
 "They may gather me in ; it looks pretty 
 
 blue," 
 Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 
 
 [75] 
 
The doctor prescribed a big mustard plaster 
 To put on his chest. Says Mac, " 'Tis a treat 
 To have such a blanket, but, doctor, I think 
 There's a great deal of mustard for so little 
 meat 1 
 I'm so dreadful thin, and delicate, too !" 
 Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 
 
 But Private McGinn took a turn for the good 
 And answered to company call once more ; 
 The huge mustard plaster had done its work 
 
 well 
 And gave him a chance to walk out the door. 
 "At last by the skin of my teeth I pulled 
 
 through," 
 Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 
 
 Its effect lingered long, for when the war 
 
 closed 
 And the news of surrender was noised about. 
 Peace came in good time, and with Company Q 
 Our Private McGinn was mustered out ! 
 
 "I've been out and in, but now I am 
 
 through," 
 Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 
 
 [76] 
 
THE SIGNAL GUN 
 
 (Petersburg, April 1, 1865.) 
 
 Nine long and weary months 
 
 Had we besieged the town. 
 
 The winter now was past 
 
 And spring came slowly on, 
 
 While closer drew the beleaguering lines 
 
 To mock the desperate foe's designs. 
 
 The Chieftain spoke his will; 
 
 "The hour has come at length, 
 
 No longer stand we still. 
 
 Once more we'll test our strength. 
 
 Once more throw down the battle gage 
 
 And write new names on History's page." 
 
 Five Forks and Hatchers Run 
 
 Revealed their weakened power. 
 
 Presage of victory 
 
 In the decisive hour. 
 
 Yet bastions, forts and earthworks gray 
 
 Frowned in our front the livelong day. 
 
 "The army moves at dawn ; 
 
 Sleep on your arms to-night 
 
 Prepared for instant march. 
 
 Keep all your fires alight. 
 
 The Country trusts its soldiers true 
 
 To grandly end the work they do. 
 
"Await the signal gun, 
 
 Fort Sedg^vick fires at three; 
 
 Then storm the works in front 
 
 However strong they be." 
 
 This was the way the orders ran 
 
 Passed down the line from man to man. 
 
 In serried ranks the troops 
 
 Responded to the call, 
 
 Knowing full well that some 
 
 Brave boys would surely fall. 
 
 To trench and fort and low redoubt 
 
 With silent step they all went out. 
 
 Who, who can tell the thoughts 
 
 Beneath the twinkling star, 
 
 Of home, and loved ones dear, 
 
 Beloved, though afar! 
 
 For who might know what deadly toll 
 
 The assault would task the muster roll. 
 
 Yet who would grudge to die 
 
 If but the fight be won. 
 
 Though carnage dire might be 
 
 Under the morrow's sun? 
 
 Ten thousand braves might kiss the sod. 
 
 Rejoiced to die for land and God. 
 
 [78] 
 
From silence deep, profound, 
 The gun the echoes woke. 
 Mahone with sharp response 
 In grim defiance spoke. 
 Quick down the line the tumult ran 
 As every gun its fire began. 
 
 What thunders filled the air 
 From their deep brazen throats ; 
 Death's diapason sung 
 With wild and varying notes, 
 While far away with sullen roar 
 Boomed with deep bass the Monitor. 
 
 Musket fire and blinding flame — 
 Bark of gun and crash of shell — 
 Rifle crack and hurtling hail — 
 Lightning flash and din of Hell — 
 Into this seething storm they went 
 With death or glory well content. 
 
 "Forward ! 'long the whole line ! 
 Forward!" You know the rest, 
 How like an ocean surge 
 They stormed and swept the crest. 
 And how, before the midday sun, 
 Their glorious task was grandly done, 
 And Petersburg was won! 
 
 [79] 
 
DOWN THE COMING YEARS 
 
 A Dedication Ode, 
 July 14s 190(J. 
 
 Said the Ritie to the Drum, 
 
 "From my throat 
 
 Flies the bullet with shtirp note 
 
 And its death-bespeaking hum. 
 
 With my kiss 
 
 Men shall hear a deadly hiss 
 
 And to my dread power succumb." 
 
 Said the Drum, in quick reply. 
 
 •'When your ball 
 
 Claims its victim, that is all : 
 
 / sound the charge, and then I cry 
 
 Louder still. 
 
 Stirring hearts with deeper thrill. 
 
 Nerving them to do or die." 
 
 Said the Bayonet to the Fife. 
 
 "I am steel. 
 
 With men's stem resolves I deal : 
 
 I am master in the strife. 
 
 In my gleam 
 
 Flashes Death's unerring beam : 
 
 I am Arbiter of Life.'' 
 
 [SO] 
 
Spake the other, "But your work 
 
 Soon is o'er, 
 
 One mad charge and nothing more. 
 
 In my cry what passions lurk ! 
 
 Fierce and shrill 
 
 Sound my notes o'er field and hill, 
 
 Ever sounding, never still !" 
 
 To the Bugle said the Sword : 
 
 "In my light 
 
 Men attain to Fame's proud height ; 
 
 I of thrones and kings am lord. 
 
 At my power 
 
 Sovereigns cringe and tyrants cower ; 
 
 Heroes claim me for reward." 
 
 Then the Bugle answer made : 
 
 "Swords may rust. 
 
 Heroes crumble into dust. 
 
 But the martial strain I played 
 
 Shall ring on. 
 
 In the hearts of sire and son. 
 
 Till the stars in heaven shall fade." 
 
 Said the Cannon to the Shaft: 
 "I have turned 
 
 Tides of battle. Men have learned 
 To fear me when I speak — have quaffed 
 Death's full cup 
 
 When I bade them take it up — 
 Thousands drinking one fell draught. 
 [81] 
 
"Kings and crowns have leaned on me! 
 
 I am MIGHT ! 
 
 Rule I in my own strong right, 
 
 Umpire over land and sea, 
 
 None but fools dispute with me. 
 
 When I speak. 
 
 Fierce and stern, my wrath to wreak, 
 
 I make nations bow the knee. 
 
 "Years ago when Europe drew 
 
 Every sword, 
 
 Mine was the decisive word ! 
 
 I Napoleon o'erthrew. 
 
 'Twas the gun 
 
 Sealed the tyrants' doom and won 
 
 Trafalgar and Waterloo. 
 
 "When, too, in a later day 
 
 This fair land 
 
 Wrested with the Southron band — 
 
 Brothers meeting in fierce fray — 
 
 Then my power 
 
 Gained for aye in Fate's full hour 
 
 Gettysburg and Mobile Bay. 
 
 "Later still, when Japan's braves 
 Swarmed the East, 
 Crowding to the infernal feast 
 Of Death — to glorious graves, 
 I won the fight — 
 
 Looking down the frowning height. 
 Monarch over hills and waves. 
 [82] 
 
"Wonder not that myriad throats 
 
 Hail me King, 
 
 To my muzzle garlands bring! 
 
 Swelling music for me floats. 
 
 You shall see 
 
 Nations henceforth worship me; 
 
 Fear they all my thundering notes." 
 
 Silent long the Column stood, 
 
 Then at length 
 
 Slowly spoke: "I know your strength, 
 
 Know your might, your power for good; 
 
 Know your pride. 
 
 Vaster than aught else beside ; 
 
 Know full well your fiery mood. 
 
 "You have won by sheer brute force ; 
 
 In your path 
 
 High are piled the sheaves of wrath ; 
 
 Blood and death attend your course. 
 
 O'er the heaps 
 
 Endless gloom her vigil keeps, 
 
 Heaps of mangled man and horse. 
 
 "In the homes where dwelt your prey. 
 Ruined homes ! 
 
 Hope nor sunshine ever comes. 
 Widows weep the live-long day; 
 Children cry; 
 Parents sob in agony 
 For the one who marched away. 
 [83] 
 
"Yes, I know 3^our mighty power; 
 
 But I know 
 
 I a loftier thought can show. 
 
 Far above your plane I tower ; 
 
 I can teach 
 
 Lessons far beyond your reach, 
 
 Lessons for the weightiest hour. 
 
 "When your bore is choked with rust ; 
 
 When no note 
 
 Issues from your strident throat ; 
 
 When you pass, as pass you must, 
 
 I shall stand, 
 
 Honored in a grateful land, 
 
 Pointing to the God we trust. 
 
 "Little ones will round me play, 
 
 In their joy 
 
 Bringing doll and hoop and toy. 
 
 Whiling thus the hours away. 
 
 They shall learn 
 
 Deeds that live and thoughts that burn, 
 
 Ever in their hearts to stay. 
 
 "Youths and maidens strolling near. 
 Pledging vows 
 
 Underneath the spreading boughs. 
 Careless of the coming j^ear — 
 Trusting youth — 
 They shall pledge a higher troth 
 When they see me standing here. 
 [84] 
 
"Sires and mothers, too, shall come, 
 
 Heeding well 
 
 All the story I shall tell. 
 
 Even though my lips be dumb ; 
 
 They shall know 
 
 In their hearts the patriot glow 
 
 That shall foster love at home. 
 
 "Aged men, with honored scars, 
 
 Dragging slow 
 
 Trembling limbs, as on they go ; 
 
 Veterans of old-time wars. 
 
 Looking back 
 
 On the years o'er memory's track 
 
 Shall salute the stripes and stars. 
 
 "Thoughts like these shall be my task, 
 
 Lifting hearts 
 
 From these sordid lower parts. 
 
 Till we see calm Reason bask 
 
 In the light 
 
 God gives when we seek the Right 
 
 And from Passion tear the mask." 
 
 Here stand, O Monument, forever stand. 
 And let thy grace, 
 
 The beauty of thy form, attract the eye 
 And lead the enraptured thought 
 To heights of great resolve, 
 That souls may trace 
 A stronger love of home and native land 
 [85] 
 
And God, who governs all beneath the sky ! 
 
 Here may a later race, 
 When we have passed away, be brought 
 To muse on noble themes, and taught 
 New sense of civic life and patriot pride, 
 While they recall 
 
 Those names who heard their country's call 
 And without murmur for their country died! 
 
 O Sun ! light up this marble image of our dead ! 
 Let thy bright beams illume with grace divine 
 The impassive brow, and o'er each feature shed 
 A radiance that shall forever shine! 
 
 O Stars! in Heaven's blue vault appearing one 
 
 by one, 
 Shine softly down in loving tenderness 
 When daylight fades and night comes creeping 
 
 on. 
 And touch his lips as with a woman's kiss. 
 
 O Wind I blow gently round this rigid form, 
 Nor stir the drooping flag we hold so dear ; 
 Right well it floated in the battle-storm. 
 Right loyally we pledge devotion here. 
 
 Sun, Stars and Winds ! Ye voiceless tenants 
 
 of the sky. 
 To thee we come ; to thee we make our prayer ; 
 Receive this emblem of a love that cannot die, 
 And thro' all coming years make it your care. 
 [86] 
 
.)iV>V ^^ l^il 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
 NOV 29 lit]