112 A RAINY DAY IN CAMP. But my country called for helpers, So, I've had a sight of drilling, It's a blessed sort of feeling, You helped your country in her need, But I can't help thinking, sometimes, That I hear the old home voices And the far, familiar faces I can't help thinking, somehow, Which every true man leads. A RAINY DAY IN CAMP. And wife, soft-hearted creature, I call myself a brave one, For my Country and her Honor But when the Lord who bought me, To "fight the good fight" faithfully, And yet I know this Captain And I know He'd not forget me, And it's kind of cheerful, thinking 113 114 A RAINY DAY IN CAMP. About that big promotion. When He says, “Come up higher.” And though it's dismal rainy, For I seem to see Him waiting Surging up the golden streets; And I hear Him read the roll-call, But my fire is dead white ashes, BY THE BANKS OF THE CUMBERLAND. 115 BY THE BANKS OF THE CUMBERLAND. BY BY S. C. MERCER. Y the banks of the Cumberland echoes the roar shore ! Our war-drums are beaten, our bugles are blown, And our legions advance to their musical tone. By the banks of the Cumberland, slippery and red, With the death-dew of battle, and strewn with the dead, Kentucky has routed her insolent foe, And victory's star gilds the night of our woe. By those banks, that once bloomed like an Eden of joy, The demon of treason stalked forth to destroy; Our rich teeming harvests he swept in his wrath, And the blaze of our dwellings illumined his path. Like an eagle-plumed arrow our Nemesis comes, Shout, soldiers! sound, bugles! and clamor, O drums! Let the land ring aloud in the wildness of joy, stroy. 116 THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY. For the God of the Union has prospered the right, THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY. BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. WHAT HAT flower is this that greets the morn, With burning star and flaming band It is the banner of the free, In savage Nature's far abode Its tender seed our fathers sowed; Then hail the banner of the free, |