THE REGIMENT RETURNED. 323 THE REGIMENT RETURNED. BY PARK BENJAMIN. HE fife blows shrill, the drum beats loud; THE I hear the tramp of many feet Come echoing up the city street, With cheers and welcomes from the crowd. It is the regiment returned That went away three months ago; Fearless they met the Southern foe, And with true patriot ardor burned. Their looks and dress are some what worn; And that is honorable dust Upon their caps and knapsacks borne. Their banner still is held on high, Though soiled with wind and rain and smoke, As bravely as when first it broke In light, like sunrise, on the sky. In the full front of battle shown, O'er many rough and weary miles, 324 THE REGIMENT RETURNED. Against its folds the shot were cast, And now, still marching where it waves, But, vowing to avenge their loss, Soon, where those comrades fought and fell, They'll meet once more, and conquer well Beneath the Union's starry cross. 'Tis right to welcome home with cheers For them we mourn; for these we raise And, as their ranks come marching by, VOICE OF THE NORTHERN WOMEN. 325 VOICE OF THE NORTHERN WOMEN. BY PHOEBE CARY. ROUSE, freemen, the foe has arisen, His hosts are abroad on the plain; And, under the stars of your banner, O, fathers, who sit with your children, O, brothers, we played with in childhood, Shall trample them under his feet. O, lovers, awake to your duty From visions that fancy has nursed; Look not in the eyes that would keep you; Our country has need of you first. And we, whom your Will pray for your lives have made blessed, souls in the fight; That you may be strong to do battle For Freedom, for God, and the Right. 326 THE LATEST WAR NEWS. We are daughters of men who were heroes; Shall have room for a place in our heart. Then quit you like men in the conflict, THE LATEST WAR NEWS. OH pale, pale face! Oh helpless hands! Sweet eyes by fruitless watching wronged, Yet turning ever towards the lands Where war's red hosts are thronged. She shudders when they tell the tale, She sees no conquering flag unfurled, THE LATEST WAR NEWS. Ever there comes between her sight The midnight glory of his hair, Of moonlight, wandered lingering there Is stiff and dank - with blood! She must not shriek, she must not moan, Because her suffering life enfolds In death-strong grasp her heart she holds, Yester-eve, they say, a field was won. Her eyes asks tidings of the fight; But tell her of the dead alone In mercy tell her that his name 327 |