"And a many time when raged the fight

I've seemed to see her through the smoke, With smiles that shone in tearful light,

Bless every valiant stroke.

I'm hurt and tired now-so place
Our little darling by my bed;

One hand, my own, to your embrace,
And one on Baby's head."

His voice was hushed-short grew his breath,
The glazing eyes closed slowly o'er,
The bloodless lips were kissed by Death-
They'll speak of love no more.

One clammy hand I held in mine

And o'er it breathed my fervent prayerBeneath the other seemed to shine

His Baby's golden hair.

The Mother's Trust.

FAR away are our beloved,

Where resounds the battle-cry;
Where, like hail, the fiery meteors
Carry death, as on they fly.

Far from home's dear shelter speeding—
They its joy were wont to be—
God of Battles, safely guide them!
"We will trust our boys to Thee!"

Few the years that each had numbered,
When they heard their country's call-
When they left the sheltering fireside—
Home and kindred-left them all.
Vacant is each place, and lonely-
Must it always vacant be?
Thou-who seest a sparrow falling,
"We will trust our boys to Thee!"

May they, in the hour of danger,
Say the prayer a mother taught ;
May the lessons of their childhood
With rich blessings now be fraught;

May they never turn, or falter,

From the path that leads to TheeVery precious! in Thy keeping,

Father, let our children be!

When the strife shall all be ended,
When the battle shall be won,

May we fondly, proudly greet them,
Saying "Well and bravely done!"
But, if Thou shouldst early call them,
Suddenly to breast the tide-
Call them from the midst of battle,

Sheltered safe at Thy dear side-
May they at their post be watching,
Ready for the Captain's word,
And, their earthly weapon grounding,
Be forever with the Lord!
Father, our weak hearts are failing:
As Thou wilt, so let it be!

'Midst the battle shouldst Thou call them,

66 We will trust our boys to Thee!"

And when life's last hour shall find us

Drifting out upon the tide,

We will breast the chilling waters,

Knowing Thou art close beside.

When we gain the shining shore-side
And the glist'ning portals see,
May they be the first to greet us-

Those dear boys we trust to Thee!

A General Invitation.

COME! leave the noisy LONGStreet,
Fly to the FIELDS with me;
Trip o'er the HETH, with flying feet,
And skip along the LEE!

There EWELL find the flowers that be
Along the STONEWALL still;

And pluck the buds of flowering pea
That grow on A. P. HILL.

Across the RHODES, the FORREST boughs
A gloomy ARCHWAY form,
Where sadly pipes that EARLY bird
That never caught the worm!
Come! hasten, for the BEE is gone,
And WHEAT lies on the plains,

And braid a GARLAND, ere the leaves
Fall in the blasting RAINS! (xi)