WAR SONG. It sails as it sailed by our forefathers hailed, O'er battles that made us a nation. What hand so bold, as strike from its fold, One star or one stripe of its bright'ning? For him be those stars each a fiery Mars, Each stripe be a terrible lightning. Then hail the true Red, etc. Its meteor form shall ride the storm, Peace to the world, is our motto unfurled, Though we shun not the field that is gory; At home or abroad, fearing none but our God, We will carve our own pathway to glory. Then hail the true Red, etc. WIT WAR SONG. BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER. ITH sword on thigh, "to do or die," 53 A pirate band have cursed the land, To Richmond on, and write upon Secession's horde from Freedom's sword Deserves a bloody tomb. Sound, bugle, sound! a rally round The fiends to tame hearts are aflame 'Tis hard to leave the babes that grieve For a fond, absent sire; His cherished wife, charm of his life, To brave the battle's fire; Our war-cry on the ear; Our banners wave above the brave- THE FLAG OF THE SKY. THE FLAG OF THE SKY. ANONYMOUS. WILLIE stood at the window,— Little Willie of five years old, Watching the rainbow colors, As they fade in the sunset's gold. Red pennants and streamers of fire, "Isn't it beautiful, mamma? And the dark eyes grow so bright, They almost seem to catch the glow Of the sky's wild glory light. “See, there is the red, mamma, And there is the beautiful blue; Did God make the beautiful red, And did he make the white clouds, too? "And.away up, up in the sky, Is such a little bright star; Why, God is for the Union,- 55 56 TO-DAY. TO-DAY. BY JOEL BENTON. THROUGH gates of gold and pearl he came, The eastern hills were all aflame; He touched the earth with tender light, "Here comes our Friend," the Lily said; The Rose blushed to a deeper red, And all the gentle race of flowers The sky bent down its deepest blue; The jewelled fields grew hourly fair; The woods were still, as in a dream, "To-day, a King is, in disguise," Observed the poet, shrewdly wise; TO-DAY. A servant, also, to obey And lead you where you point the way. Who wrestle with him hour by hour, For, who win his treasured stores, Small note he takes of varying creeds, Actions that grow to fair renown, Discourse is vain; his lips are dumb, To all the questioner says or thinks, In him all issues centred are, His realm extends to Sun and Star, And on his car, which will not wait, 57 |