MITCHEL. Waste and ruin will rush in, Dare you be a man ? Now, for home and law and right, 213 66 MITCHEL. BY W. FRANCIS WILLIAMS. Hung be the Heavens with black." IS mighty life was burned away HIS By Carolina's fiery sun ; The pestilence that walks by day Smote him before his course seemed run. The constellations of the sky,— The Pleiades, the Southern Cross, - "Send him to us," the stars might cry, You do not feel his worth below; Your petty great men do not try "Send him to us, this is his place, Not 'mid your puny jealousies; You sacrificed him in your race Of envies, strifes, and policies. "His eye could pierce our vast expanse, His ear could hear our morning songs,His mind, amid our mystic dance, Could follow all our myriad throngs. "Send him to us! No martyr's soul, Take him, ye stars! Take him on high To your vast realms of boundless space; But once he turned from you to try His name on martial scrolls to trace. That once was when his country's call And then her banner's stars dimmed all The radiant lights which gemmed the sky. WHY? Take him, loved orbs! His country's life, Freedom for all, for these he wars; For these he welcomed bloody strife, WHY? BY RICHARD STORRS WILLIS. TWENTY millions held at bay! With the sturdy iron will, -- With the pluck, the dash, the skill, Standing yet are Sumter's walls, 215 Hear our wounded eagle wail! By this fierce, but fruitless fight, By your waste of loyal might, By the blood that soaks the sod, By our Past, so bright-renown'd, By our Future, starry-crown'd! By the South, deceived, misled, By our Hundred Thousand Dead, Who for South and North have bled! On! Northmen, on! December, 1862. Prattled in her lovely face, "Mamma once had rosy cheeks, "Till the hush of peace shall come, Marching back to hearts at home." "Papa - home?" the baby lisped, |