I married Charlie, your husband's clerk,
Whose life was duty, honor, and work,
And we somehow contrived, in our humble way,
To be very happy, and free, and gay;

For my husband was honest, and brave, and kind,
With a delicate heart, and a cultured mind;
And the gifts he gave me, though few and cheap,
Were set in a frame-work rich and deep-
A frame-work of Love that never grows old,
But was clear as diamond and solid as gold:
So I do not envy in any way

Your wealthy husband or grand coupe.

Your husband every day, Madame,

Drives down to business well-dressed and calm;
But my Charlie is off where the muskets shine,
And the picket stretches his sleepless line,
And the sullen ring of the distant gun

Tells of a battery lost and won.

It was hard to part while our love was new,
But the country called him-what could I do?
So I kissed his lips, and bade him go,
And strike for our banner one hearty blow;
And I am prouder of him, in his honest gray,
Than you of your husband and grand coupe.

ANONYMOUS

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

EVE OF THE BATTLE AT PLATTE CITY, MO. NOVEMBER 2D, '61.

He lay in his tent,

With his blanket around him,

While visions of home

Were thronging his brain,

Till his eyelids grew heavy,

And the goddess of slumber
Threw round him her fetters-

Her soft rosy chain.

His couch was a hard one,

His knapsack a pillow,

And the cold wind was whistling

Around him so drear,

But he heeded them not,

For again he was crossing

The threshold where gathered
The loved ones so dear.

How they start at the sound
Of the dearly loved footstep,
And spring to his arms
With a glad cry of joy ;
The father, the mother,
The dearly loved sisters;
How gladly they welcome.
Their dear soldier boy.

The wind whistle still,

And the camp fires are burning,
And gleaming far out

On the dark troubled sky.
But another fond heart

'Gainst his own is now beating,

And rapture lights up

Each fond loving eye.

Soft arms are around him,

And eyes gently beaming
Look into his own

With their soft loving light;

The mother's soft voice,

Her glad tearful greeting,

Thrill his heart with emotions

Of purest delight,

How familiar is all

In that dear home dwelling;

How brightly the fire
Gleams out on the wall;
How tempting the viands.
Spread out on the table,
As in olden times round it

Now gather they all.

Ah, the soldier boy now
Has forgotten the morrow;
His dreams are so vivid,
His slumber so deep,

Forgotten that perils

And hardships surround him,

That the morrow perhaps

The foe he may meet.

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.

WHEN HE IS AWAY.

CAPTURE OF HOUSTON, MO,

OCTOBER 4TH, '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 riótous 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.