A pebble stone that on the war-field lay,
And a wild rose that blossom'd brightly there,
Were all the relies that I bore away
To tell that I had trod the seene of war,
When I had turn'd my footsteps homeward far.
These may seem childish things to some; to me
They shall be treasured ones, and, like the star
That guides the sailor o'er the pathless sea,
They shall lead back my thoughts, loved Brandywine, to thee!"
Elizabeth M. Chandler.