God knows best. He has somebody’s love, Somebody’s heart enshrined him there, Somebody wafts his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody’s kiss on his forehead lay, Somebody clung to his parting hand.
Somebody’s watching and waiting for him, Yearning to hold him again to her heart; And there he lies with his blue eyes dim, And the smiling, childlike lips apart. Tenderly bury the fair young dead— Pausing to drop on his grave a tear. Carve on the wooden slab o’er his head: “Somebody’s darling slumbers here.”
[Southern.]
LEFT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD.
By SARAH T. BOLTON.
Yes, now I remember it all too well! We met, from the battling ranks apart; Together our weapons flashed and fell, And mine was sheathed in his quivering heart.