WHEN MY LOVER RETURNS.

AFTER THE BATTLE OF BLUE GAP, VA.,
JANUARY 9TH, '62.

Он, my bird, my beautiful bird!
Sing no more to-day;

The saddest maiden under the sun

I must be, till this weary war is done;
For my lover has gone away.

Ah! your voice could never drop as it does
Down through those slender bars;

If you ever had loved a soldier lad,
And he was all the friend you had,

And was gone away to the wars.

You are quiet now! too quiet, my bird,
To suit my restless mood;

"Tis fearful to feel the house so still,
Sing out again, till you sing your fill;
I shall die with solitude!

Yet low, sing low, while he is gone
To fight for the stripes and stars;
I would not hear your voice ring out,
Till it blends itself with the nation's shout,
When my lover comes from the wars.

You must sing for us both in that blessed day,
When I welcome my soldier boy;

For my eyes will be dim with the happy tear, And my heart will come to my lip so near, That I cannot speak for joy!

PHEBE CARY.

THE DYING DRUMMER BOY.

AFTER THE BATTLE OF CEDAR KEYS, FLA.,
JANUARY 13TH, '62.

"I AM dying comrades, raise my head.
And place it on my drum,

I've long time feared, and yet I hoped,
This time might never come.

"Tis not because I fear to die-
No! I would rather yield.

A thousand lives, if they were mine,
Than we should lose the field.

"But 'tis because within my home, Now many miles away,

I see my aged mother kneel

At eventide to pray.

And 'tis for me, her only son,

She offers up that prayer;

She prays that He who reigns above-
Her only child will spare.

"She little thinks that on the field,
All wet with crimson gore,
Her darling boy is dying now—.
She ne'er will see him more.

But, comrades, tell her, ere she dies,

What were my last words here(And then he raised his glassy eyes) I'll watch for her up there."

LOUISA.

WHAT TIDINGS FROM THE CAMP.

BATTLE OF MILL SPRINGS, KY.,

JANUARY 19TH, '62.

My brother and loved soldier friend,
How farest thou in the camp to-night?
To thee love's greetings now I send,
As from my peaceful home I write.
Within thy tent, or out "on guard

"

On "picket" guard, God shield thee e'er; Or in the battle raging hard,

God shield thee still shall be my prayer.

What tidings are there from the camp,

What news from the seat of war, to night?
Dost hear the sentry's measured tramp?
Dost sit beside the camp-fire bright?
O, brother mine, and soldier-friend,

I charge thee tell how speeds the fight?
Is Treason's might soon to have end?
Will it soon dawn Freedom's day-light?

What tidings are there from the war?

What do our troops-and what the foe? O, by all things which righteous are,

Strike !—to give Treason its death blow!
Advance our standards !-forward, march!
Forward to battle and to fame!

And 'neath Heaven's blue, ethereal arch,
Act valor worthy of our name.

JAMES A. C. O'CONNOR.

WHAT NEWS FROM THE WEST.

CAPTURE OF FORT HENRY, TENN.,
FEBRUARY 6TH, '62.

"DID'ST hear the news, just from the West?" In thrilling tones salute the ear;

The traitors that our land infest,

Are driven back with groan and fear— And Mississippi with the streams,

That pour their life into her flood,
Reflect our flag in victory's beams,
Sustained by men of loyal blood.

The Sun of Liberty now shines
With lustre bright and unsubdued,
And blasted are the dark designs
Of all promoters of the feud.
From prairie-homes the warriors come,
From homes upon the lakes green banks,
To render treason fearful, dumb,

And terrify Rebellion's ranks.

Fort Henry's ramparts 'neath the folds
Of Freedom's emblem nobly stand;
And where the battle's thunder rolls
To tell of Victory to our land,
What glad event was it that woke

All patriot hearts from mount to shore?
It was the fight that Treason broke,

The grandest onset of the war!

THO. ELLIS.

OR FILL AN OCEAN GRAVE.

THE CAPTURE OF ROANOKE ISLAND.,
FEBRUARY 8TH, '62.

THOUGH many a year of Peace has come,
Since on the wat'ry plain,

We wrenched the trident from

The Empress of the main :

Since Lawrence, with his ebbing breath,

Inspir'd his gallant crew,

Or over Erie, dark with death,

Our Perry's thunder flew :

The blood of valiant men that wet
Our battle-decks of yore,
Leaps in our ocean-warriors yet,
When naval thunders roar.

Off Carolina's coast our fleet,

By brave men's skill controlled,
O'er Roanoke's forts, the standard sheet
Of Union has unrolled.

Yet, 'mid our triumphs, let us weep

For Monteil and the brave,

Who, 'neath the sands of Roanoke sleep,
Or fill an ocean grave.

C. F. B.