CAPTURE OF SPRINGFIELD, MO.,
THE march was o'er—the toilsome march,
Through forest dark, and tangled wild-
Each soldier sought his couch of leaves,
And slumbered like a wearied child.
The swift Potomac coursed along
Beside them, like a silver thread,
And mingling with its rushing tide
Came echoes of the sentry's tread.
The watch-fire's out-no tell-tale light
Must point the foe to where they lay,
While thus they slept beneath the trees,
And dreamed the starry night away.
In hours like these, of hurried rest,
In whom to trust they knew full well;
They slept in peace beneath the care
Of tried and trusted sentinel.
He, with careful, steady step,
Walked to and fro among the trees, With eager ear to catch each sound
That reached him coming with the breeze.. The rustling branches, sighing winds,
Each dying leaf that slowly fell,
Were heard, and not a sound escaped
The trusted watchful sentinel.
CAPTURE OF BOWLING GREEN, KY.,
FEBRUARY 14Tн, '62.
FREEMEN! one more sacred pleasure
Should our festal day employ;
Seraph voices, tuneful measure
To express a nation's joy.
Bright eyes gleaming, banners streaming,
Gay bells pealing through the land;
All uniting, all are plighting
Heart to heart, and hand to hand;
For our country undivided,
For the pledge our fathers signed,
For that law supreme provided
Race and sect as one to bind.
And though treasure without measure
We must lavish to defend,-
And though perish all we cherish,
We will neither yield nor bend,--
Till our flag, in honor planted,
Float again o'er sea and shore,
And what rebel hands have flaunted
Shall usurp its place no more!
Then regretting and forgetting
Fancied wrongs and needless war,
God that made us one, will aid us
One to be forever more.
LEFT WOUNDED ON THE FIELD.
AT THE CAPTURE OF FORT DONELSON, TENN.,
How like a mighty avalanche
Our brave boys sweep upon the foe,
Regardless of the fearful fire,
Which lays so many heroes low!
On! on into the storm of death!
Up! up! before those iron throats,
Which pour destruction in their ranks,
And shake the earth with thunder notes !
Great, fearful gaps are in their lines,
The slain in heaps lie in their track,
Yet not a sign of faltering-
Yet not a thought of turning back!
On, on they press, 'till hand to hand
The soldiers struggle in the fight,
God give our men the victory,
God give the battle to the right!
But human valor cannot stand
Such awful carnage as they meet;
And then is given the command
To cease the combat, and retreat.
Amid the rebels' hideous yells,
And fearful shouts of victory.
Our shattered forces leave the field,
Where they have fought so gallantly.
There, on that awful battle plain,
Our dead and wounded soldiers lie, With none to bind their bleeding wounds, Or hear their last words ere they die. We hear their piteous cries for drink, Borne to our ears in dying tonesWe hear their feeble calls for help, But cannot heed their dying groans.
The cruel foe with dev'lish hate,
Watch closely all who leave a trench,
To minister to wounded friends,
And seek their burning thirst to quench,
And from their strongholds quickly send,
A bullet which may fatal prove,
To all who venture on the field,
Upon this holy work of love!
Half-way between us and the foe,
Our leader brave, disabled laid,
And oh! 'twas truly terrible,
To hear his agonizing cries for aid.
He called for drink incessantly;
But who could ease his dreadful woe? 'Twas certain death to venture there— And who will venture there to go?
A man stepped forth- a martyr brave-
To give his life for noble deed;
And all his comrades gathered 'round,
To bid the noble youth God speed!
His features glowed with calm resolve,
And tears were seen in many eyes,
He grasped their hands and turned away,
Amid the soldier's sad "good-byes."
How anxiously they on him gaze,
As 'mid the fallen ones he treads;
Will he return to them again,
Or sleep with them on gory beds?
Will he succeed and gain the side
Of him who led them on to-day?
Will he relieve the sufferer,
Before his life is snatched away?
Still safe he bravely pushes on
Amid a storm of leaden hail!
He's almost there-one moment more-
Will he succeed? or will he fail?
See, see, he kneels, and places now
His canteen to the soldier's lips—
God grant our leader may imbibe
New life with every drop he sips.
Our hero rises! can it be
He'll safely yet return to us?
Oh, God of battles! we now pray
That Thou wilt kindly will it thus !
Another shower of bullets fall-
Will he escape this as before?
Alas! behold him stagger-fall!
Ah! Heaven has gained one martyr more!
The days passed on-we toiled away,
Assured the fortress soon must fall;
And how we cheered when we beheld
The white flags wave along the wall.
The place was ours! and victory
Had perched upon our banner bright,
Treason was humbled in the dust
Before the all-triumphant Right!
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