Say to the picket, chilled and numb,
Say to the camp's impatient hum,
Say to the trumpet and the drum :
Lift up your hearts, I come, I come!

March!

Cry to the waiting hosts that stray
On sandy sea-sides far away,

By marshy isle and gleaming bay,

Where Southern March is Northern May:

March!

Announce thyself with welcome noise,
Where Glory's victor-eagles poise

Above the proud, heroic boys

Of Iowa and Illinois :

March!

Then down the long Potomac's line
Shout like a storm on hills of pine,
Till ramrods ring and bayonets shine,
"Advance! the Chieftain's call is mine:
"MARCH!"

Like a dog; the ditch my death-bed,

My pillow but a log across.
Helpless hangs my arm beside me,
Drooping lies my aching head

How strange it sounded when that soldier,
Passing, spoke of me as "dead."

Dead? and here

where yonder banner

Flaunts its scanty group of stars,
And that rebel emblem binds me

Close within those bloody bars.
Dead? without a stone to tell it,
Nor a flower above my breast!
Dead? where none will whisper softly,
"Here a brave man lies at rest!"

Help me, Thou, my mother's Helper,
Jesus, Thou who biding here,
Loved like me an earthly mother,

Be thou still to aid me near.

124

ACROSS THE LINES.

Give me strength to totter yonder,
Hold me up till o'er me shines
The flag of Union, there she promised

To meet me, just beyond the lines.

Well I know how she will wander

Where a woman's foot may stray,
Looking with those eyes so tender
Where the poor boys wounded lay.
How her hand will bring them water,
For her own boy Charlie's sake,
And when dying bid them whisper,
"I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

Ah! I stand on foot but feebly,
And the blood runs very fast,
Yet by fence and bush I'll stagger
Till the rebel lines be passed.
Courage, Charlie! twist it tighter,
The tourniquet about your arm;
Be a man · don't faint and shiver
When the lifetide trickles warm."

Faint and weak,

still coming, mother,

Walking some, but creeping more,

Fearing lest the watchful sentry

Stops the heart-beat, slow before.

ACROSS THE LINES.

Stay with fingers ruddy dabbled
Loose the belt your waist confines ;
Write upon it "Charlie Coleman
Carry him across the lines."

Trembling letters, but some stranger
Chance may read them when I'm gone,
And for the sake of love and pity
Bear my lifeless body on.

Coming! ah-what means this darkness:
Night too soon is coming on.
Mother, are you waiting? -"Jesus,
Tell her that with You I've gone.”

Then the head her heart had pillowed,
Drooping laid it down to rest,

As calm as when in baby slumber

Its locks were cradled on her breast.

Glowed the sunset o'er the meadow,
Lighting up the gloomy pines,
Where a body only lingered-
Charlie's soul had crossed the lines.

A passing soldier foe, yet human

Stooped to read the words of blood;

So pitiful, so sadly earnest;

And bore him onward through the wood.

125

126

THE CAPTAIN'S WIFE.

Beneath the white flag bore him safely.
Now, while Indian Summer shines,
A mother's tears dew springing myrtle,
O'er Charlie's grave across the lines.

THE CAPTAIN'S WIFE.

BY THEODORE TILTON.

WE gathered roses, Blanche and I, for little

Madge one morning;

"Like every soldier's wife," said Blanche, " I dread a soldier's fate."

Her voice a little trembled then, as under some forewarning.

A soldier galloped up the lane, and halted at the

gate.

"

"Which house is Malcolm Blake's? he cried; 66 a letter for his sister!"

And when I thanked him, Blanche inquired, “But none for me, his wife?"

The soldier played with Madge's curls, and, stooping over, kissed her:

"Your father was my captain, child! —I loved him as my life!

"