Ah, soldier boy, soldier boy,
Dreaming on still,

How blissful, how real,

Thy visions now seem;

The sweet gentle face
Upturned to thine own—
Ah, can it be? can it be
Only a dream?

Aye, hark now, the sound
Of the clear shrill trumpet
Arousing the sleepers
From a soft pleasant dream.
He starts-ah the change;
Around and above him

The camp-fires shine out
With their wild lurid gleam.

Stern hearts are around him;
The tread of the warriors,
The clanking of arms

Now fall on his ear;

His blanket is 'round him
His knapsack a pillow,

And far from his home

And his loved ones, so dear.

SARAH L. MILES.

WHEN HE IS AWAY.

CAPTURE OF HOUSTON, MO.,

OCTOBER 4Tн, '61.

OUR dear, loving Charlie has gone from us now,
He has left his white cottage, his babe, and his plow,
And although Hattie laughs in her cradle at play,
She only reminds me that he is away.

His portrait hangs up, and so gay on the wall,
With his steel-buttoned coat, and his sword, cap and all;
And his tall, gallant form to his sword gives display-
But, oh, I am lonely when he is away.

There's bushwackers and rebels- —a riotous crew,
And our Uuion they'd rend it and cleave it in two;
But Charles is for Union, though cost what it may,
And from home, wife, and cottage, it calls him away

During each bloody fight I have quaked in my fear, For I know in his heart he would long to be there; And although they have sung him in fame's gallant lay. My heart still has languished, for he was away.

We've Generals and Colonels, and Privates, and all,
And although he may rival, yet still he may fall;
And although fame and glory may now be his pay,
Their glare shines but dimly, for he's far away,

But now this dark war-oh, when shall it cease,
And all mustered home to their friends and at peace?
Then Hattie will kiss him, and smiling she'll say,
"Ma is weeping for gladness, for pa's not away

GERSHOM WIBORN.

A MOTHER'S OFFERING TO HER COUNTRY.

AT THE BATTLE OF BELMONT, MO.,

NOVEMBER 6тн, '61.

'Tis very hard to let thee go, my son,

And when I think of all which thou must meet-
The peril and the dangers thou must face-
My heart grows faint and bleeds with agony,
And I reach out my clasping arms to hold
Thee back; and while I press thee tenderly,
Close to the breast that nourished thee, my child,
I cry, "O, God! I cannot, cannot let him go.”

And yet, how can I bid thee stay, my son?
For when thou wast a little-prattling boy
I made a little silken flag for thee,

And, while, with eager joy, you flung its folds
High out into the morning breeze and laughed,
And shouted out, "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"
I told you what its wondrous meaning was,
And how our fathers fought and died for it;
And while you listened, I could see your heart
Throb'd bravely, and your brown eyes grew bright.

Your little form expanded proudly when
I said, "My son must love his country well;
So well that he would rather die than see

Its flag dishonored-trampled in the dust

By traitors!" Then, with firm and steady hand
You pressed its silken folds unto your lips,
And cried, "Hurrah! old flag, I'll sooner die
Than see you trampled 'neath a traitor's foot!"

And so I cannot bid thee stay with me,
In this dark hour of peril, though my heart
Is almost breaking with its weight of fear,
Of what may be, of what may come to thee
While thou'rt away.

I give thee up, my child,

My only child-and I a widow, too

And if thou never should'st come back to me,
But fall a sacrifice unto thy love

Of our dear country, I will try to say,

"Thy will be done, O, God!" 'mid smiles of joy, That I was blest with such a son to give.

CORA MAY.

THE BANNER OF THE SEA.

AT THE CAPTURE OF PORT ROYAL, S. C.,
NOVEMBER 7TH, '61.

Or all the flags that float aloft
O'er Neptune's gallant tars,
That wave on high in victory,
Above the sons of Mars,

Give us THE flag-Columbia's flag

The emblem of the free,

Whose flashing stars blazed through our wars
For Truth and Liberty.

Beneath its folds we fear no foe,
Our hearts shall never quail,

With bosoms bare the storm we'll dare,
And brave the battle-gale;

And though the cannon plough our decks,
The planks with gore run red,
Still through the 'fray our flag alway
Shall gleam far overhead.

On every wave, to every shore,
Columbia's flag shall go,

And through all time its fame sublime.
With brighter hues shall glow:
For Freedom's standard is our flag,
Its guardians, Freedom's sons,
And woe betide the insulter's pride,
When we unloose our guns.

Its enemies our own shall be,
Upon the land or main;

Its starry light shall gild the fight,

And guide our iron rain.

Nor foreign power nor treason's arts

Shall shake our patriot love,
While with our life, in peace or strife,

We'll keep that flag above.

Then dip it lads in ocean's brine,
And give it three times three,
And fling it out 'mid song and shout,

The Banner of the Sea.

ANONYMOUS.