OCTOBER, 1854.
Heaven speed you, Braves! Undaunted lion-hearts
Well have you thus redeemed a solemn trust,
And added, by your bright heroic deeds,
Another lustrous ray to deck the brow,
Of this the good Old Land, whose gladdened heart
Leaps forth for very joy and thankfulness,
Proud of the gallant sons she calls her own;
Right nobly have you ta'en the gauntlet up
Ambition flung before the world, and fought
'Gainst Evil, Might, and hated Despot-law;
Bled, conquered, clipped the wings of soaring Pride,
And earned in Serf-land such a brilliant name
Time's breath can never dim. But list!—a wail
Of sorrowing sadness sweeps across the Land,
With which the up-sent jubilant psalm is blent.
'Reft orphans' cries, in mournful cadence soft,
Sobs wrung from widows' broken, bleeding hearts;
And fond hoar-headed parents' sighs and tears,
Commingling all, merge in a requiem sad
For those brave hearts that fell in Freedom's cause.
Then let us plant Fame's laurels o'er their graves,
And keep them green with tears of gratitude.
A KIND WORD, A SMILE, OR A KISS.
There's a word, softly spoken, which leadeth
The erring from darkness and night;
There's an effortless action that sheddeth
A sun-world of gladdening light;
There's a sweet something-nothing which bringeth
A fore-taste of Paradise bliss:
Full and large is the love that up-springeth
From kind words, a smile, or a kiss.
Eyes a-plenty with tears have been blinded,
Hearts legion in sadness have bled,
And many of earth's angel-minded
In grief have gone down to the dead,
And the world, with its bright laughing gladness,
Oft changed to a frowning abyss,
By vain mortals refusing, in madness,
A kind word, a smile, or a kiss.
DEAR MOTHER I'M THINKING OF THEE.
NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1855.
In the hush of night, when the pale starlight
Through my casement silently steals;
When the Moon walks on to the bower of the Sun,
And her beautiful face reveals:
When tranquil's the scene, and the mist on the green
Lies calm as a slumbering sea,
From my lattice I peep, 'ere I lay down to sleep,
And whisper a prayer for thee:
Mother! Dear Mother!
O, blessings on thee!
From my lattice I peep, 'ere I lay down to sleep,
And think, dear Mother, of thee.
When the dew goes up from the white lily cup
In rose-coloured clouds to the sky;
When the voice of the Lark trembles out from the dark,
And the winds kiss the flowers with a sigh;
When the King of Dawn, like a world new-born,
Scatters love-light over the lea;
From my lattice I peep, when I wake from sleep,
And whisper a prayer for thee:
Mother! Dear Mother!
O, blessings on thee!
From my lattice I peep, when I wake from sleep,
And think, dear Mother, of thee.