 | Poems |  |
II.
LOST.
Was there a bright and glorious Summer sky
Ever so pure and clear,
But black and ragged clouds were hovering nigh,
To make it dull and drear?
Was there an Eden e'er so blithe and gay,
And free from troubling Care,
But hurrying change, some dark, unwelcome day,
Brought grief and sorrow there?
Ever so pure and clear,
But black and ragged clouds were hovering nigh,
To make it dull and drear?
Was there an Eden e'er so blithe and gay,
And free from troubling Care,
But hurrying change, some dark, unwelcome day,
Brought grief and sorrow there?
When, blessed with pleasant days and fortune's smile,
Our life untroubled grows,
'Tis best to guard in watchfulness, the while,
Against unlooked-for foes;
And while we thank the Lord for mercies past,
And blessings, day by day,
'Tis best ahead a watchful eye to cast,
And watch, as well as pray.
Our life untroubled grows,
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Against unlooked-for foes;
And while we thank the Lord for mercies past,
And blessings, day by day,
'Tis best ahead a watchful eye to cast,
And watch, as well as pray.
Blithe, happy households, basking near and far,
In Pleasure's radiant sun,
Were ominously startled by the jar
Of Sumter's signal-gun;
The nation drew, with anger in its eye,
A long, determined breath,
Then quickly laid its household jewels by,
For scenes of blood and death.
In Pleasure's radiant sun,
Were ominously startled by the jar
Of Sumter's signal-gun;
The nation drew, with anger in its eye,
A long, determined breath,
Then quickly laid its household jewels by,
For scenes of blood and death.
God answered Charleston, with the impetuous rush
Of armed and marshaled men,
Sworn by the waving flag they loved, to crush
The serpent to his den!
And beardless youth, and men of riper age,
With glowing heart and mind,
Turned to life's view a fearful, flashing page,
And left the old behind!
Of armed and marshaled men,
Sworn by the waving flag they loved, to crush
The serpent to his den!
And beardless youth, and men of riper age,
With glowing heart and mind,
Turned to life's view a fearful, flashing page,
And left the old behind!
The balls that whiz about the soldier's head,
With danger are replete;
But vastly more the glistening nets that spread
About the soldier's feet!
The carnage-devils, hovering o'er the fight,
Are pitiless and fell;
But vastly more the imps that, day and night,
Would lead the soul to hell!
With danger are replete;
But vastly more the glistening nets that spread
About the soldier's feet!
The carnage-devils, hovering o'er the fight,
Are pitiless and fell;
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Would lead the soul to hell!
Was there a camp so guarded round from sin,
And so supremely blest,
But that Intemperance some time entered in,
And made himself a guest?
Are there not those who in the grave are laid,
And still might live to-day,
If those of higher rank, whom they obeyed,
Had spurned the cup away?
And so supremely blest,
But that Intemperance some time entered in,
And made himself a guest?
Are there not those who in the grave are laid,
And still might live to-day,
If those of higher rank, whom they obeyed,
Had spurned the cup away?
The war had come; the stirring call
To save our nation from her fall,
Had issued from the lips of him
Whose honest eyes have since grown dim.
And straight from valley, plain, and hill,
From office, workshop, farm, and mill,
Burning to thwart their country's foes,
Avengers of The Flag arose.
And James, whose heart had often burned,
As records of the past he turned,
Wherein the feuds of former days
Were told in glowing word and phrase,
Felt Freedom's love within him move,
And longed that holy love to prove.
To save our nation from her fall,
Had issued from the lips of him
Whose honest eyes have since grown dim.
And straight from valley, plain, and hill,
From office, workshop, farm, and mill,
Burning to thwart their country's foes,
Avengers of The Flag arose.
And James, whose heart had often burned,
As records of the past he turned,
Wherein the feuds of former days
Were told in glowing word and phrase,
Felt Freedom's love within him move,
And longed that holy love to prove.
He came, one evening dull and brown,
Back from the nearest market town,
And, entering the lampless gloom
That filled the little sitting-room,
He silent found his parents both;
And told them of the binding oath
That he had taken, on that day,
To mingle in the rising fray,
And do his boyish best to save
The nation from an early grave;
And tearfully before them bent,
Asking their blessing and consent.
The weeping mother did not speak,
But kissed his brow, his lips, his cheek,
Gave him a long and warm embrace,
Then hid her flushed and streaming face.
Back from the nearest market town,
And, entering the lampless gloom
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He silent found his parents both;
And told them of the binding oath
That he had taken, on that day,
To mingle in the rising fray,
And do his boyish best to save
The nation from an early grave;
And tearfully before them bent,
Asking their blessing and consent.
The weeping mother did not speak,
But kissed his brow, his lips, his cheek,
Gave him a long and warm embrace,
Then hid her flushed and streaming face.
The father bade the boy to stand;
Then placed his hard and trembling hand
Upon the youthful soldier's head,
And then, in trembling accents, said:
“You're young; and it might better do,
If you might wait a year or two;
For years will come, and years will go,
Ere conquered is that Southern foe;
And we by law might keep you here,
Until you entered manhood's year.
But since you've started on the track,
Go on! we will not hold you back!
Now, do your duty, like a man,
Which means, to do the best you can;
When darkest clouds come o'er your sight,
Look cheerfully ahead for light;
When Pleasure shows her handsome form,
Look out for an approaching storm;
But al'ays, al'ays keep in sight
The good North star of truth and right.
Study, whatever else you do,
Your Bible, and your drill-book, too;
And with the bugle's stirring ring,
Mingle the hymns you used to sing;
And may the God of battles shed
His choicest mercies on your head.”
Then placed his hard and trembling hand
Upon the youthful soldier's head,
And then, in trembling accents, said:
“You're young; and it might better do,
If you might wait a year or two;
For years will come, and years will go,
Ere conquered is that Southern foe;
And we by law might keep you here,
Until you entered manhood's year.
But since you've started on the track,
Go on! we will not hold you back!
Now, do your duty, like a man,
Which means, to do the best you can;
When darkest clouds come o'er your sight,
Look cheerfully ahead for light;
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Look out for an approaching storm;
But al'ays, al'ays keep in sight
The good North star of truth and right.
Study, whatever else you do,
Your Bible, and your drill-book, too;
And with the bugle's stirring ring,
Mingle the hymns you used to sing;
And may the God of battles shed
His choicest mercies on your head.”
The sister entered, without call—
She paused, she gazed, she knew it all;
And, hastening to the soldier's side,
She mingled tears of grief and pride;
Mingled assurance with her fears,
And smiles of courage with her tears;
And while her gentle eyes grew dim,
She playfully exhorted him
To prove a soldier such as she
Would have her only brother be.
She paused, she gazed, she knew it all;
And, hastening to the soldier's side,
She mingled tears of grief and pride;
Mingled assurance with her fears,
And smiles of courage with her tears;
And while her gentle eyes grew dim,
She playfully exhorted him
To prove a soldier such as she
Would have her only brother be.
They knelt and prayed; and from the West,
As if the earnest prayer were blest,
Threading a sudden cloud-rift, came
The setting sun's deep, crimson flame;
And through the cottage window, shed
A radiant halo round each head.
But when the fervent prayer was done,
Dark clouds swept swiftly o'er the sun,
And like a deep-toned warning word,
A distant thunder-peal was heard.
As if the earnest prayer were blest,
Threading a sudden cloud-rift, came
The setting sun's deep, crimson flame;
And through the cottage window, shed
A radiant halo round each head.
But when the fervent prayer was done,
Dark clouds swept swiftly o'er the sun,
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A distant thunder-peal was heard.
The war went on; the news fast came
Of bloody fights, now old in fame,
Wherein fell many a noble one
Whom fame has never dwelt upon.
Wherein fell many a gallant boy,
Some home's well cherished pride and joy,
Whose noble deeds might well be told
In glowing words of pearl and gold.
Of bloody fights, now old in fame,
Wherein fell many a noble one
Whom fame has never dwelt upon.
Wherein fell many a gallant boy,
Some home's well cherished pride and joy,
Whose noble deeds might well be told
In glowing words of pearl and gold.
But why peruse that blotted page?
Why feel again the lofty rage
That stood in each true face confessed,
And burned in every loyal breast?
Why read again those long death-rolls
That tell of brave, departed souls;
That tell of blazing eyes grown dim;
Of bleeding form and shattered limb?
The war, thank God, is o'er; and we
Live yet, the fruits of peace to see.
Why feel again the lofty rage
That stood in each true face confessed,
And burned in every loyal breast?
Why read again those long death-rolls
That tell of brave, departed souls;
That tell of blazing eyes grown dim;
Of bleeding form and shattered limb?
The war, thank God, is o'er; and we
Live yet, the fruits of peace to see.
The war was done; the priceless boon was saved;
And high, o'er land and sea,
Flashing in bright and star-gemmed beauty, waved
The old flag of the free!
The stifling smoke of battle rolled away,
And tears of joy revealed;
The clanging bells sent forth a roundelay,
And loud the great guns pealed!
And high, o'er land and sea,
Flashing in bright and star-gemmed beauty, waved
The old flag of the free!
The stifling smoke of battle rolled away,
And tears of joy revealed;
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And loud the great guns pealed!
Forth marching from the lone, deserted camp,
With proud and glorious name,—
Forth creeping from the prison's deathly damp,
The conquering legions came.
Came, with each past heart-rending woe and grief
Changed to bright pleasure, now;
Came, with the unfading, well earned laurel wreath
Upon each noble brow!
With proud and glorious name,—
Forth creeping from the prison's deathly damp,
The conquering legions came.
Came, with each past heart-rending woe and grief
Changed to bright pleasure, now;
Came, with the unfading, well earned laurel wreath
Upon each noble brow!
The household band its rays of comfort shared,
And poured its welcome free,
To those who from the bloody fray were spared,
Their homes again to see.
Maternal love spread wide its yearning arms,
His hand the father gave;
While beauty summoned forth its freshened charms,
To welcome home the brave.
And poured its welcome free,
To those who from the bloody fray were spared,
Their homes again to see.
Maternal love spread wide its yearning arms,
His hand the father gave;
While beauty summoned forth its freshened charms,
To welcome home the brave.
Come, mother, set the kettle on,
And put the ham and eggs to fry;
Something to eat; and make it neat,
To please our Jamie's mouth and eye;
For Jamie is our son, you know;
The rest have perished long ago!
And when Pat brings him home to-night,
His glad, blue eyes will sparkle bright,
His old, sweet smile will play right free,
His old, loved home once more to see.
And put the ham and eggs to fry;
Something to eat; and make it neat,
To please our Jamie's mouth and eye;
For Jamie is our son, you know;
The rest have perished long ago!
And when Pat brings him home to-night,
His glad, blue eyes will sparkle bright,
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His old, loved home once more to see.
I say for't! 'twas a cur'us thing,
That Jamie wasot maimed or killed!
Four were the years with blood and tears,
With gloomy, hopeless tidings filled!
And many a night, the past four year,
We've lain within our cottage here,
And while the rain-storm came and went,
We've thought of Jamie, in his tent;
And offered many a silent prayer,
That God would keep him in His care.
That Jamie wasot maimed or killed!
Four were the years with blood and tears,
With gloomy, hopeless tidings filled!
And many a night, the past four year,
We've lain within our cottage here,
And while the rain-storm came and went,
We've thought of Jamie, in his tent;
And offered many a silent prayer,
That God would keep him in His care.
I say for't! 'twas a cur'us thing,
That Jamie was not maimed or killed!
Four were the years, with hopes and fears,
With long and bloody battles, filled!
And many a morn, the past four year,
We've knelt around our fireside, here,
And while we thought of bleeding ones,
Of blazing towns and smoking guns,
We've thought of him, and breathed a prayer
That God would keep him in His care.
That Jamie was not maimed or killed!
Four were the years, with hopes and fears,
With long and bloody battles, filled!
And many a morn, the past four year,
We've knelt around our fireside, here,
And while we thought of bleeding ones,
Of blazing towns and smoking guns,
We've thought of him, and breathed a prayer
That God would keep him in His care.
Nay, Ada! you just come away!
Touch not a dish upon that shelf!
Mother, she knows just how it goes!
Mother shall set it all herself!
There's nothing, to the wanderer's looks,
Equal to food that Mother cooks;
There's nothing to the wanderer's taste,
Like food where Mother's hand is traced;
Though good the sister's heart and will,
The mother's love is better still.
Touch not a dish upon that shelf!
Mother, she knows just how it goes!
Mother shall set it all herself!
There's nothing, to the wanderer's looks,
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There's nothing to the wanderer's taste,
Like food where Mother's hand is traced;
Though good the sister's heart and will,
The mother's love is better still.
She knows the side to lay his plate,
She knows the place to set his chair;
Many a day, with spirits gay,
He's talked, and laughed, and eaten there;
And though four years have come and gone,
Our hearts for him beat truly on;
And he shall take, as good as new,
His old place at the table, too!
She knows the place to set his chair;
Many a day, with spirits gay,
He's talked, and laughed, and eaten there;
And though four years have come and gone,
Our hearts for him beat truly on;
And he shall take, as good as new,
His old place at the table, too!
And 'cross the table, as of old,
Your chair, my Ada, girl, shall be;
Mother, your place, and kind old face,
I'll still have opposite to me.
And we will talk of olden days;
Of all our former words and ways;
And we will tell him what has passed,
Since he, dear boy! was with us last;
And how our eyes have fast grown dim,
Whenever we conversed of him.
Your chair, my Ada, girl, shall be;
Mother, your place, and kind old face,
I'll still have opposite to me.
And we will talk of olden days;
Of all our former words and ways;
And we will tell him what has passed,
Since he, dear boy! was with us last;
And how our eyes have fast grown dim,
Whenever we conversed of him.
And he shall tell us of his fights:
His marches, skirmishes, and all;
Many a tale shall make us pale,
And pity them who had to fall;
And many a one of sportive style,
Will go, perchance, to make us smile;
And when his stories all are done,
And when the evening well is gone,
We'll kneel around the hearth once more,
And thank the Lord the war is o'er.
His marches, skirmishes, and all;
Many a tale shall make us pale,
And pity them who had to fall;
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Will go, perchance, to make us smile;
And when his stories all are done,
And when the evening well is gone,
We'll kneel around the hearth once more,
And thank the Lord the war is o'er.
Hark! there's a step! he's coming now!
Hark, mother!—there's the sound once more!
Now on our feet, with smiles to greet,
We'll meet him at the opening door!
It is a heavy step and tone;
Too heavy, far, for one alone;
Perhaps the company extends
To some of his old army friends;
And who they be, or whence they came,
Of course, we'll welcome them the same.
Hark, mother!—there's the sound once more!
Now on our feet, with smiles to greet,
We'll meet him at the opening door!
It is a heavy step and tone;
Too heavy, far, for one alone;
Perhaps the company extends
To some of his old army friends;
And who they be, or whence they came,
Of course, we'll welcome them the same.
What bear ye on your shoulders, men?
Is it my Jamie, stark and dead?
What did you say? once more, I pray;—
I did not gather what you said.
What! drunk!—you tell that lie to me!
What! drunk! O, God! it can not be!
It is, it is, as you have said!
Men, lay him on yon waiting bed!
Is it my Jamie, stark and dead?
What did you say? once more, I pray;—
I did not gather what you said.
What! drunk!—you tell that lie to me!
What! drunk! O, God! it can not be!
It is, it is, as you have said!
Men, lay him on yon waiting bed!
'Tis Jamie! yes, a bearded man,
Though bearing still some boyhood's trace;
Stained with the way of reckless days,
Flushed with the wine-cup, is his face;
Swelled with the fruits of reckless years;
Robbed of each look that e'er endears;
Robbed of each trait that e'er might make
Us cherish him for his own sake,
Except the heart-distressing one,
That Jamie is our only son!
Though bearing still some boyhood's trace;
Stained with the way of reckless days,
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Swelled with the fruits of reckless years;
Robbed of each look that e'er endears;
Robbed of each trait that e'er might make
Us cherish him for his own sake,
Except the heart-distressing one,
That Jamie is our only son!
Oh, mother! take the kettle off,
And set the ham and eggs away!
What was my crime, and when the time,
That I should live to see this day!
For all the sighs I ever drew,
And all the grief I ever knew,
And all the tears I ever shed
Above our children that are dead,
And all the care that creased my brow,
Are naught to what comes o'er me now!
And set the ham and eggs away!
What was my crime, and when the time,
That I should live to see this day!
For all the sighs I ever drew,
And all the grief I ever knew,
And all the tears I ever shed
Above our children that are dead,
And all the care that creased my brow,
Are naught to what comes o'er me now!
I would to God, that when those three
We lost, were hidden from our view,
Jamie had died, and by their side
Had lain, all pure and stainless, too!
I would this rain might fall above
The grave of him we joyed to love,
Rather than hear its coming traced
Upon this roof he has disgraced!
But, mother, Ada, come this way,
And let us kneel, and humbly pray.
We lost, were hidden from our view,
Jamie had died, and by their side
Had lain, all pure and stainless, too!
I would this rain might fall above
The grave of him we joyed to love,
Rather than hear its coming traced
Upon this roof he has disgraced!
But, mother, Ada, come this way,
And let us kneel, and humbly pray.
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They knelt and prayed; and God looked down
Upon the cottage old and brown,
Looked on that silver-threaded hair,
Looked on that maiden, young and fair;
And when, with tearful eyes, they rose,
He lightened half their weight of woes.
And though they wept for sorrow, still,
They felt submission to His will.
Upon the cottage old and brown,
Looked on that silver-threaded hair,
Looked on that maiden, young and fair;
And when, with tearful eyes, they rose,
He lightened half their weight of woes.
And though they wept for sorrow, still,
They felt submission to His will.
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