EXEMPT.

THE GREAT CONSCRIPTION BILL EXCITEMENT,
FEBRUARY 27тн, '63.

EXEMPT! from what? a knapsack, and gun,
A blanket and a uniform;
Some weary marches in the sun,

And nights out-doors amid the storm?
That's all :-my boy, I pray you wait

Before you laugh and say, "all right!"
Your papers have not waived your fate,
You have the battle yet to fight!

Exempt! come, have you brains, a tongue,
Within your breast a living heart?
Then stand where you belong, among

The men who fight on Freedom's part!
Stand to your guns! be brave and calm;
Beware the foe with whom you deal,-
His mouth is full of deadly harm,

His lies are worse than cutting steel.

Exempt! there's no such thing, my boy!
You're not exempt while war endures;
Think you your pale face can destroy

Your country's right to you and yours!
Exempt! no more of that poor word-

Or fill it with a better sense;

So shall your country's voice be heard,
In calling you to her defence!

EDWARD EVERETT.

SPRING AT THE CAPITAL.

PRESIDENT'S LEVEE AT WASHINGTON, D. C.,
MARCH 4TH, '63.

THE poplar droops beside the way
Its tasseled plumes of silver-gray;
The chestnut pouts its great grown buds,
Impatient for the laggard May.

The honeysuckles lace the wall;
The hyacinths grow fair and tall;
And mellow sun, and pleasant wind,
And odorous bees are over all.

Nor Nature does not recognise

This strife that rends the earth and skies

3 ;

No war dreams vex the winter sleep,

Of clover-heads and daisy-eyes.

She holds her even way the same,
Though navies sink or cities flame;

A snow-drop is a snow-drop still,

Despite the nation's joy or shame.

When blood her grassy altars wet,
She sends the pitying violet

To heal the outrage with its bloom,
And cover it with soft regret.

O crocuses with rain-wet eyes,
O tender-lipped anemones,
What do ye know of agony and death
And blood-won victories?

No shudder breaks your sunshine trance,
Tho' near you rolls, with slow advance,
Clouding your shining leaves with dust,
The anguish-laden ambulance.

Yonder a white encampment hums;
The clash of martial music comes;
And now your startled stems are all
A tremble with the jar of drums.

Whether it lessen or increase,

Or whether trumpets shout or cease, Still deep within your tranquil hearts

The happy bees are murmuring "Peace!"

O flowers! the soul that faints or grieves, New comfort from your lips receives; Sweet confidence and patient faith

Are hidden in your healing leaves.

Help us to trust, still on and on,

That this dark night will soon be gone,

And that these battle stains are but

The blood-red trouble of the dawn—

Dawn of a broader, whiter day That ever blessed us with his rayA dawn beneath whose purer light

All guilt and wrong shall fade away.

A. J. ELLARD.

EAST TENNESSEE.

BATTLE AT SPRINGFIELD, TENN.,

MARCH 5, '63

EAST Tennessee! East Tennessee!
My soul is glad at thought of thee
Upon thy everlasting hills,
And in the murmuring of thy rills,
Are heard the songs of Liberty,
Sung by thy sons, East Tennessee.

But with thy songs is heard a wail,
Coming from hill, and plain and dale,
On summer breeze, 'tis borne along,
I hear it now, "great God how long
Before my exiled sons shall see
Once more, their own East Tennessee?"

Not long, not long, for God is just,
And right is strength, prevail it must;
Ten thousand stalwart men declare,
To avenge thy wrongs, to do and dare,
To fight and bleed, and die for thee,
The Patriot's home, East Tennessee!

LIEUT. JOHN H. KINGSTON.

THE LIEUTENANT-COLONEL.

AT THE CAPTURE OF YAZOO CITY, MISS.,
MARCH 12TH, '62.

You think his parents can never more
Above his grave see the country rise :
Well, it may be so, for often before

The angels have beamed to blinded eyes!
Let me tell you-not one of their kith or kin
Has lived so nobly or died so well;

And before another like him they win,

Every man of the race may meet his knell.

One day in the churchyard-think of this!-
Twenty graves may lie, twenty tombstone stand;
And around nineteen shall the serpents hiss
And the weeds outgrow the sexton's hand.
But the twentieth-o'er it a nation weeps,
While it covers the others with cold neglect,
Unheeding where leech or jurist sleeps

Or giving, at best, but a chill respect.

“Ah, here,” says the patriot, seeking the spot"Here, amid these rubbishy common bones, There lies one man of a nobler lot,

Whose name and deeds the country owns. Here, George, the Lieutenant-Colonel, lies, Who fell when the last Union fight was won! Gone upward-the brave man never dies! Heaven prosper his soul when all is done!"

HENRY MORFORD.