And often when I gaze Into its folds and see these visions fair, Of tears for him that wore it, true and brave; Within the amber clear of poetry This pale and withered rose That else must pass and crumble into dust When first it bloomed ; the deeds of sacrifice, The scenes of battle with their woe and scaith, The courtesy and courage, love and faithThat I can read within it with mine eyes! [Suggested by the fact that the women of Columbus, Miss., on their decoration day strewed flowers, with impartial hands, upon the graves of northern and southern soldiers.-EDITOR]. Y the flow of the inland river, have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, Waiting the judgment-day; Under the one, the Blue; These in the robings of glory, Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; Under the laurel, the Blue; Under the willow, the Gray. From the silence of sorrowful hours, The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers, Alike for the friends and the foe; Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; Under the roses, the Blue; Under the lilies, the Gray. So, with an equal splendor, Waiting the judgment-day; Broidered with gold, the Blue, So, when the summer calleth, Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; Wet with the rain, the Blue; Wet with the rain, the Gray. Sadly, but not with upbraiding, In the storm of the years that are fading, No more shall the war-cry sever, When they laurel the graves of our dead. Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; Love and tears for the Blue; Tears and love for the Gray. L BY PHOEBE CARY. OADED with gallant soldiers, A boat shot in to the land, And lay at the right of Rodman's Point, With her keel upon the sand. Lightly, gayly, they came to shore, When sudden the enemy opened fire Each man fell flat on the bottom Then out spoke a negro sailor, |