MY GRANDFATHER'S SWORD. CELEBRATION OF WASHINGTON'S BIRTH-DAY FEBRUARY 22d, '62. How I used to love, when a happy boy, But there was one thing I loved more than all 'Twas the rusty old weapon that hung on the wall, My grandfather's old heavy sword. Cheerless and cold was this lonely hall, Cheerless and dark as night, And oft have I crept along the wall And opened a shutter to let in light; With trembling hand unclasp the band, And take down my grandfather's sword. With awe I would gaze and hold my breath, I looked on the weapon in fond delight; How my grandsire fell on Bunker Hill's height, When I hung it up I'd steal away To the "green," where the school boys used to play, And tell the boys of our country's foes, Who fell in the strife 'neath my grandsires blows. How my heart throbs now while I think of home, And memory's tears all silently come When I think of the hall with old trophies stored, I sigh when I gaze on my grandfather's sword L. AUGUSTUS JONES. THE SPECTRAL WARRIOR. CAPTURE OF NASHVILLE, TENN., A MAIDEN mused as the day grew dim, The wires were warm with the news of strife And she thought of one who had pledged his life, She had girt with a prayer to God. The Past unfolded a radiant store, But the blossoms were sore that the Future bore, Her soul was wrung into tears, and she wept; When midnight came at the lattice she slept, Did leaves rustle then! they're mute as the dew; Like a fire that glows in a darkling cave, She saw her spectral lover stand, With a mortal wound where the Southern brand, His life-stream sought and found. He waved his hand; with a sound as before, The moonlight slumbered again on the floor, She knew the worst; and her eye was clear And a wounded soldier she chanced to hear How her Spartan lover fell. The colors he bore through the fiery sleet, Ere the foe was put to rout, And planted it at the foeman's feet, Above to graves in the twilight dim, CLARENCE F. BUHLER. WE LOOKED AGAIN UPON HIS FACE. CAPTURE OF FAYETTEVILLE, ARK., FEBRUARY 24тн, '62. SAY is one's country dearer than one's husband? Tho' livelong months the grave sod has been folded I know it was a sunny day in August, Though I scarce saw its brightness then, With a firm step and proud high bearing, He joined those files of noble men. Who, loving their grand country better Than life, or home, or aught else dear, But not his fate to die for country quickly, At Danville he at last found rest. And when his father tried to get him a short furlough I thought that they would surely grant him this, He brought not him, but a closely fastened coffin, That held a soldier's form, but 'twas not his. Slow, weary aays went on, then came a message; We looked again upon his face, and calm and smiling It was the peace from his bright soul reflected, My little boy upon my knee begins to babble now, C. H. HANNUM. 333 I WOULD SEND YOU A KISS. BATTLE OF BIRD'S POINT, MO., I WOULD send you a kiss dear daughter, But kisses thus sent in a letter Would lose all their sweetness for thee, And I know it would please thee far better To receive a few "greenbacks" from me: I therefore send you this nice little sonnet, Instead of the greenbacks to buy a new bonnet. |