“I could give him strength and courage,
From the treasures of my love—
I could lead his aspirations
To the holy heart above;
I could warn him in temptation,
That he might not blindly fall;
I could wait with faith and patience
For his triumph—that was all.
“’Mid the rush and roar of battle,
In the carnival of death,
When the air grew hot and heavy,
With the cannon’s fiery breath,
First and foremost with the bravest,
Who had heard their country’s call,
With the stars and stripes above him,
Did my darling Willie fall.
“Onward—onward rushed his comrades,
With a wild, defiant cry,
As they charged upon the foeman,
Leaving him alone to die.
Faint he murmured, ‘O, my mother!
Angel mother! art thou near?’
And he caught the whispered answer,
‘Darling Willie, I am here!
“‘O, my loved one! my true-hearted!
Soon your anguish will be o’er;
Then, in heaven’s eternal sunshine,
We shall dwell for evermore.’
Swiftly o’er his pallid features,
Gleams of heavenly brightness passed,
And my Willie’s noble spirit
Met me face to face at last.
“In a soldier’s grave they laid him,
Underneath the sheltering pines,
Where the breezes made sweet music,
Through the gently swaying vines.
Now in heaven, our souls united,
All their aspirations blend,
And my spirit’s holy mission
Thus hath found a joyful end.”
Through our lives’ mysterious changes,
Through the sorrow-haunted years,
Runs a law of Compensation
For our sufferings and our tears;
And the soul that reasons rightly,
All its sad complaining stills,
Till it gains that calm condition,
Where it wishes not, nor wills.
FACE THE SUNSHINE.
O, a morbid fancy had David Bell,
That over his path like a wizard spell,
A great, black shadow forever fell.
He turned his back on the sun’s clear ray;
From a singing bird, or a child at play,
With a nervous shudder he shrank away;
And he shook his head,
As he gloomily said,
“This shadow will haunt me till I am dead!”
In the solemn shade of the forest wide,
Or in the churchyard at eventide,
Like a gloomy ghost he was seen to glide.
There, nursing his fancies all alone,
He would sit him down with a dismal moan,
In the dewy grass by some moss-grown stone,
And shake his head,
As he gloomily said,
“This shadow will haunt me till I am dead!”