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From stricken fields and ocean caves
I hear their voice and cry instead-
Who were the comrades of the dead!"
Our cause was holy to the height
Of holiest cause to manhood given ;
For these to die, if called by Heaven !
The grinning skull no laurel seeks ;
The ORDER OF THE LEgion speaks !
AGNES AND THE YEARS.
CELTA M. BURR.
Maiden Agnes," said the Year in going,
“What the message I shall bear from thee To the angels, who with love past knowing
Fed the life-lamp of thy infancy? When I reach them they will murmur low, •What of our Agnes doth thy record show?'"
“Tell them, tell them that beside the sea
I wait a passage to the Land of Morn;
A goodly vessel by the winds is borne ;
“Day after day I walch the ships go by,
And strain my eyes across the restless deep, Where, dimly pictured 'gainst the summer sky,
The Hills of Morning in their b:auty sleep.
AGNES AND THE YEARS.
But look! even now across the shining sea
“Woman Agnes, on the wreck-strewn shore,
When the angels of thy infancy
What, I pray thee, shall my answer be ?
“ Leave me, leave me : all is lost-is lost!
My goodly ship is crumbled in the deep;
All's wrecked, all's wasted, e'en the power to weep.
“Leave me alone, to pore upon the waves,
Whitened with upturned faces of the dead; Earth for such corpses has, alas ! no graves ;
No holy priest has requiescat said. There's nothing left me but the bitter sea; God and his angels have forgotten me."
" Christian Agnes, in the firelight dreaming,
What the message I shall bear from thee To the angels, whose soft eyes are beaming
From the portal where they watch for me? ' Is she coming ?' they will say ; '0, Year, Draw her footsteps to the Homeland near ?'"
This the message--that I sit no more
With eyes bent idly on the Hills of Morn, That in the tempest, on the wreck-strewn shore,
A holier purpose to my soul was born. Give leave to labor, was the prayer I said, Leaving the dead past to inter its dead.
“And it was granted. By my hearth to-night,
Tell the beloved ones, I sit alone,
But not unhappy; for the morning light
Will show my pathway with its uses strewn.
BANISHED from Rome! What's banished but set free
"Traitor!" I go,—but I return! This trial!
NOTE.—The following beautiful and touching lines were taken from the • knapsack of a Union soldier, who was found dead, upon the battle-field of Hatcher's Run, Va., in Nov., 1864. The original manuscript, torn and defaced, was presented to Major Barton by Colonel EDWARD HILL, of the Sixteenth Michigan Infantry. The author is unknown.
Hi! Harry! Hallie ! Halt, and tell
A soldier just a thing or two;
How all the folks in Jersey do; -
I, and a bullet from Fair Oaks.
Say, did you see any of" our folks ?”
For if I do look grim and rough,
A soldier's heart is mighty tough!
And hot saltpetre flames and smokes !
One's apt to think about his folks.
The old man! Is he lively yet ?
Or does she seem to pine and fret for me?
And then, you know, her friend, that
Come, Hal, and tell me, like a man,
You saw them at the church, you say ; .
On Sunday. What! No! A funeral !
And all were well, and all were out ?
“I said all well, old comrade dear,
I say all well! for He knows best,
Before the sun sinks in the West.
But flowers fall as well as oaks-
And that's the matter with your folks.' Here's this long curl, 'twas sent to you,
And this fair blossom, from her breast,
This letter telling all the rest.
Only the dull camp raven croaks
There's some bad news from Granger's folks!' He turned his back upon his grief
And sadly strove to hide the tears Kind nature sends to woe's relief.
Then answered, “ Ah, well! Hal, I'll try; But in my throat there's something chokes
Because, you see, I'd thought so long To count her in among our folks.
All may be well; but yet, I can't help thinking, too,
I might have kept this trouble off
By being gentle, kind and true!But may be not. She's safe up there;
And when His hand deals other strokes She'll stand at Heaven's gate, I know,
To wait and welcome our folks."