"And I know she has repented,
But I never let her see
How it cut—her crusty answer—
When she turned away from me.
I was never good at coaxing,
So I didn't even try;
But you tell her I forgive her,
And she must not mourn and cry,"
Then he closed his eyes in slumber,
And his spirit passed away,
And his comrades spread a blanket
O'er his cold and silent clay.
At dawn of morn they buried him,
Wrapped in his army-blue.
On the bloody field of Fair Oaks
Sleeps the soldier tried and true.
GRIERSON'S RAID
Mount to horse—mount to horse;
Forward, Battalion!
Gallop the gallant force;
Down with Rebellion!
Over hill, creek and plain
Clatter the fearless—
Dash away—splash away—
Led by the Peerless.
Carbines crack—foemen fly
Hither and thither;
Under the death-fire
They falter and wither.
Burn the bridge—tear the track—
Down with Rebellion!
Cut the wires—cut the wires!
Forward, Battalion!
Day and night—night and day,
Gallop the fearless—
Swimming the rivers' floods—
Led by the Peerless;
Depots and powder-trains
Blazing and thundering
Masters and dusky slaves
Gazing and wondering.
Eight hundred miles they ride—
Dauntless Battalion—
Down through the Southern Land
Mad with Rebellion.
Into our lines they dash—
Brave Cavaliers—
Greeting our flag with
A thunder of cheers.
THE OLD FLAG
[Written July 4, 1863.]
Have ye heard of Fort Donelson's desperate fight,
Where the giant Northwest bared his arm for the right,
Where thousands so bravely went down in the slaughter,
And the blood of the West ran as freely as water;
Where the Rebel Flag fell and our banner arose
O'er an army of captured and suppliant foes?
Lo—torn by the shot and begrimed by the powder,
The Old Flag is waving there prouder and prouder.