MEMORIES.
The aged sire in thoughtful mood,
Sits by the hearth stone bright,
And seems to see with pensive glance,
In soaring flames of light
The old camp ground with tents outspread,
Where comrades good and true,
Are waiting for the bugle call,
The call they all well knew.
Ere the notes die o’er the valley,
And smould’ring fires grow dim,
To arms, to arms, attention all,
He hears with strength and vim,
Then forward march, away they go,
The enemy to meet,
Through fire and smoke he sees them fall,
Aye, dying at his feet.
The old man wakes as from a dream,
His eyes are wet with tears,
Then his dauntless spirit rises
As in the by gone years,
And a smile lights up his visage,
Old and wan though it be,
For visions of the old camp ground,
In the firelight he sees.
A LULLABY.
(Go to Sleep.)
Go to sleep, await the day,
Fair in dreamland far away,
Through the shadows of the night
’Till the early morning light.
Slumber sweetly, do not fear,
Angels voices hover near,
Lullabies so soft they sing,
Messages of love doth bring.
Sleep, O sleep, ’till dawning light,
Wakes thee on thy pillow white,
Then arise with glad heart sing
Praises to our heav’nly King.