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Rides over the hill the livelong year
Rides calling and calling the brave to come
“ What battle? What deeds did I do in the fight ?
Why, sir, I have seen green fields turn as red As yonder red town in that marvelous light ! Then the great blazing guns! Then the ghastly white
dead But, tell me, I faint, I must cease to roam !
This battered leg aches! Then this sabered old head! Is—is this the way to the Soldiers' Home?
Why, I hear men say 'tis a paradise
oak hills by the great red town; That many old comrades shall meet my eyes ;
That a tasseled young trooper rides up and rides down, With bugle-horn blowing to the still blue skies,
Calling and calling to rest and stay
"My leg is so lame! Then this sabered old head
Ah! pardon me, sir, I never complain ; But the road is so rough, as I just now said ;
And then there is something that troubles my brain. It makes the light dance from yon Capitol's dome;
It makes the road dim as I doubtfully tread. But is this the way to the Soldiers' Home?
“From the first to the last in that desperate war
Why, I did my part. If I did not fall,
Was all that was wanting; and then this ball
But what cared I? Ah! better by far
Have a sabered old head, and à shattered old knee To the end, than not had that praise of Lee.
4 What! What do I hear? No home there for me?
Why, I heard men say that the war was at end ! Oh! my
head świms so; and I scarce can see! But a soldier's a soldier, I think, my friend, Wherever that soldier may chance to be!
And wherever a soldier may chance to roam,
He turned as to go; but he sank to the grass ;
And I lifted my face to the firmament;
Leading the way the old soldier went.
Brighter indeed from the monument,
DON'T BE MEAN, BOYS.
OMETIMES I wonder what a mean man thinks
about when he goes to bed. When he turns out the light and lies down alone he is then compelled to be honest with himself. Not a bright thought, not a generous impulse, not a word of blessing, not a grateful look comes back to him; not a penny dropped into the palm of poverty, nor the balm of a loving word dropped into an aching heart; no sunbeam of encouragement cast upon a struggling life; no strong right hand of fellowship reached out to help some fallen man to his feet-when none of these things come to him as the “God bless you” of the departed day, how he must hate himself-how he must try to roll away from himself and sleep on the other side of the bed—when the only victory he can think of is some mean victory, in which he has wronged a neighbor. No wonder he always sneers when he tries to smile. How pure and fair and good all the rest of the world must look to him, and how careless and dreary must his own path appear! Why, even one isolated act of meanness is enough to scatter cracker crumbs in the bed of the average man, and what must be the feelings of a man whose whole life is given up to mean acts? When there is so much suffering and heartache and misery in the world, anyhow, why should any one add a pound of wickedness or sadness to the general burden? Don't be mean, boys. Suffer injustice a thousand times rather than commit it
SING A SONG A SIXPENCE.
VOCALIZE in silver strains, and with pennies six,
Measured farinaceous grain deftly intermix ; Take of ebon-tinted birds twenty-five or nigh, Place in crust-bound earthen vase, quickly then apply Calorific rays until the temp’rature is high; Intersect the outer crust and a portion raise ; Hark! the feathered choristers are chanting hymns of
praise ! Wasn't that a sight to fill the monarch with amaze ? Rex was in his business room at the iron chest, Accurately estimating coin that he possessed ;
Fair Regina, striving hunger's cravings to appease, Ate with bread a product of the industry of bees; A servant in the garden hung apparel out to dry : Watched by an ebon-tinted bird, escaped the pie; He, full of righteous wrath, a swift avenger proved, And quickly her nasal protuberance removed.
TO THE DESPONDING.
TAKE this for granted, once for all —
There is neither chance nor fate, And to sit and wait for the sky to fall,
Is to wait as the foolish wait.
The laurel, longed for, you must earn
It is not of the things men lend,
The sooner the better, my friend.
Is a judgment all untrue.
A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD.
You never see Him in the gold ;
God is so good, He wears a fold
Of heaven and earth across His face-
Slides down by thrills, through all things made,
shut lids her kisses' pressure, Half-waking me at night, and said, “Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser ?''
THE MODEL WOMAN.
KNOW a woman wondrous fair
A model woman she
When she goes out to tea.
Of dresses or of hats ;
And joins them in their spats.
Nor asks for pretty plaques ;
Which do his patience tax.
At least they may to some.
A WISELY ANONYMOUS MAN.