EVER THE SAME. ENGAGEMENT ON THE YAZOO RIVER, MISS., THE glorious band of patriots, The record of its worth. From east to west, from sea to sea, Will eyes grow bright and hearts throb high Ah! proudly should we bear it now, Amid the darker hours; The brave alone may bear it thus, A guardian it shall be For those who well have won the right To boast of liberty. The meteor flag of Seventy-six, Long may it wave in pride, To tell the world how nobly Our patriot fathers died; When from the shadows of their night, It bathed in light the Stars and Stripes, ANONYMOUS. THE DRUMMER BOY. AT THE BATTLE OF MURFREESBORO, MISS., THE solemn work at last was o'er, There, with his drum beside him laid, Of a little drummer boy. Nine summers scarce had blessed him Ere his little life went out, Amid the battle's thunder, And the foe's inglorious rout. His golden hair in clustering curls, And on his lip a gentle smile The soldier's eye could trace. And his young heart no more, alas! With joy and pride would thrill. Ah! curse the traitor hand that sped Was there no power to ward it from And was not stern death satisfied? A year ago the little one Was in his village home, And often to his childish ear The sad war news would come, This friend was dead, that battle lost, Within him burned, to take his drum, His widowed mother-bless her, Heaven! Proudly bade him go, And bare his little bosom to The bullet of the foe, Nor sigh, nor tear escaped her when She gave the parting kiss; Did ever Spartan mother make And now her heart is desolate, Her prayers ascend on high, That God in tender mercy Will allow her but to die; But still not one repining word Where Willie went to meet his death A. M. O THE MAN OF THE IRON WILL. BATTLE OF MEMPHIS, MO., AYE! toll! toll! toll! Toll the funeral bell! And let its mournful echoes roll From sphere to sphere, from pole to pole, Yes! weep! weep! weep! Weep for the hero fled! For Death, the greatest of soldiers, at last His form has passed away His voice is silent and still! No more at the head of "the old brigade,” Will he lead them to glory that never can fade, ANONYMOUS. PICKET SHOOTING. AT HARRISON LANDING, VA. AUG. 1st, 1862.. To AND fro upon the green banks, Thinking of the home afar, "It was here," he murmured, sadly, When the golden morning broke, Then the soldier looked around him |