See I thee THE PARTING. 13 bold, brave, and daring-on thy manly forehead wearing The shadow of a purpose strong as every pulse of life, See thee strike the foe before thee, while the rolling clouds sweep o'er thee Oh! 'mid clashing swords and sabres, in the hottest of the strife. I would never have thee falter! - better death or felon's halter Than to see our cause defeated and a nation bowed in shame. Were I man, grim death should claim me ere a coward's thought should shame me, Or the stigma of inaction rise upon my manhood's fame! Leave God have thee in His keeping ever, waking or in sleeping; Every hour I breathe a prayer for our country's cause and thee; And I feel this love will fold thee, till mine eyes again behold thee In the flush of manly beauty and the pride of vic tory! B. Z. S. 14 THE SOLDIER'S "GOOD-BY." THE SOLDIER'S "GOOD-BY." BY MARY E. NEALY. GOOD-BY, my wife, my child, my friend, 'Tis hard to leave you all; But there's a God in heaven above Will bless and shield you with His love, You know I could not stay, dear love, The shot of Sumter circled round, A thrill that never else had swept O dearest! there's a manhood lies, THE SOLDIER'S "GOOD-BY." Then, like a mountain stream it comes, It echoes to the beat of drums, This war is sad; but I thank God Of manhood, strong within my blood; My arms seem braced with nerves of steel, The power to crush beneath my heel The man who springs not to his sword To see his country's fame restored, Then ask me not. I cannot stay, The God that looks on us to-day 16 THE SOLDIER'S "GOOD-BY." Will listen to you when you pray, Yet if I come not back again, This blood will not be spilled in vain I'm strong enough to die, dear love, For I shall see from Heaven above Entwined with Freedom's flowers. Now kiss me one "good-by," my wife, For while I revel in the strife, 'Tis weary all the dark suspense A woman has to bear : The anguished thoughts, the woe intense, THE WOODS OF TENNESSEE. But you - you must be strong and bright; I'll think of you by day and night, Your love shall nerve me in the fight; Louisville, Ky. THE WOODS OF TENNESSEE. ANONYMOUS. HE whip-poor-will is calling THE From its perch on the splintered limb, And the plaintive notes are echoing Through the aisles of the forest dim: The slanting threads of starlight Are silvering shrub and tree, And the spot where the loved are sleeping, The leaves are gently rustling, But they're stained with a tinge of red As they prayed in mortal agony 17 |