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248 THE PATRIOT GIRL TO HER LOVER.

When half the world is Freedom's
Then all the world's our own!
To Canaän, to Canaän

The Lord has led us forth,

To sweep the rebel threshing-floors,
A whirlwind from the North!

THE PATRIOT GIRL TO HER LOVER.

BY GEORGE VANDENHOFF.

HARK! the trumpet is sounding, it's a war-note

I hear;

Arise, arm, and go forth my own Knight;

And though my hand tremble, my eye drop a tear, I'll gird on your sword for the fight!

O deem you the maid whose affection you claim,
Though loving as I have loved you,

Could bear without blushing a recreant's name,
To his country, to honor, untrue?

You have vowed that your heart and your hopes are in me,

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That you live in the light of my eyes;

Let their lovebeam your beacon to victory be,
My hand of your valor the prize!

WHO'S READY.

249

Would you win one? Be worthy of her who would

die

Ere be link'd to a coward or slave;

And yielding her heart's blood would breathe but one sigh,

A prayer her dear country to save.

Go forth then and conquer; be strong in the fight; Think of me, and put heart in each blow :

Strike for Country, for UNION, for LOVE, and for RIGHT,

And down with the insolent foe!

GOD

WHO'S READY?

BY EDNA DEAN PROCTOR.

OD help us! Who's ready? There's danger before!

Who's armed and who's mounted? The foe 's at the door!

The smoke of his cannon hangs black o'er the plain; His shouts ring exultant while counting our slain ; And Northward and Northward he presses his line,

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Who's ready? O forward!- for yours and for mine !

250

WHO'S READY?

No halting, no discord, the moments are Fates;
To shame or to glory they open the gates!
There's all we hold dearest to lose or to win;
The web of the future to-day we must spin;
And bid the hours follow with knell or with chime,
Who's ready? O forward!- while yet there is

time!

Lead armies or councils,

be soldier a-field,

Alike, so your valor is Liberty's shield!

Alike, so you strike when the bugle-notes call,
For Country, for Fireside, for Freedom to All!
The blows of the boldest will carry the day, —

Who's ready? O forward! — there's death in delay!

Earth's noblest are praying, at home and o'er sea, -
"God keep the great nation united and free!"
Her tyrants watch, eager to leap at our life,
If once we should falter or faint in the strife;
Our trust is unshaken, though legions assail, -
Who's ready? O forward! - and Right shall pre-

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Who's ready? "All ready!" undaunted we cry; "For Country, for Freedom, we'll fight till we die ! No traitor, at midnight, shall pierce us in rest;

THE SNOW AT FREDERICKSBURG. 251 No alien, at noonday, shall stab us abreast; The God of our Fathers is guiding us still, All forward! we 're ready, and conquer we will!"

THE SNOW AT FREDERICKSBURG.

ANONYMOUS.

RIFT over the slopes of the sunrise land,

DRIFT

Oh wonderful, wonderful snow!

Oh! pure as the breast of a virgin saint,

Drift tenderly, soft, and slow!

Over the slopes of the sunrise land,

And into the haunted dells

Of the forests of pine, where the robbing winds

Are tuning their memory bells.

Into the forests of sighing pines,

And over those yellow slopes,

That seem but the work of the cleaving plough, That cover so many hopes!

They are many indeed, and straightly made,

Not shapen with loving care;

But the souls let out and the broken blades
May never be counted there!

252 THE SNOW AT FREDERICKSBURG.

Fall over those lonely hero graves,
Oh delicate, dropping snow!
Like the blessing of God's unfaltering love

On the warrior heads below!

Like the tender sigh of a mother's soul,

As she waiteth and watcheth for One

Who will never come back from the sunrise land When this terrible war is done.

And here, where lieth the high of heart,

Drift white as the bridal veil

That will never be borne by the drooping girl

Who sitteth afar, so pale.

Fall, fast as the tears of the suffering wife,
Who stretcheth despairing hands

Out to the blood-rich battle-fields
That crimson the Eastern sands.

Fall in thy virgin tenderness,

Oh delicate snow, and cover
The graves of our heroes, sanctified, ·
Husband and son and lover!

Drift tenderly over those yellow slopes,
And mellow our deep distress,
And put us in mind of the shriven souls
And their mantles of righteousness!

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