He's re-enlisted for the war, for victory or for death! A soldier's grave, perhaps!—the thought has halfway stopped my breath,

And driven a cloud across the sun;—my boy, it will not be!

The war will soon be over; home again you'll come to me!

He's re-enlisted: and I smiled to see him going, too! There's nothing that becomes him half so well as army-blue.

Only a private in the ranks! but sure I am indeed, If all the privates were like him, they'd scarcely captains need.

And I, and Massachusetts share the honor of his birth: The grand old State! to me the best in all the peopled

earth!

I cannot hold a musket, but I have a son who can ; And I'm proud for Freedom's sake to be the mother of a man!

REVEILLE

BY MICHAEL O'CONNOR

The morning is cheery, my boys, arouse!
The dew shines bright on the chestnut boughs,
And the sleepy mist on the river lies,

Though the east is flushing with crimson dyes,

Awake! awake! awake!

O'er field and wood and brake,

With glories newly born,

Comes on the blushing morn.

Awake! awake!

You have dreamed of your homes and friends all night;

You have basked in your sweethearts' smiles so bright;
Come, part with them all for a while again,—
Be lovers in dreams; when awake, be men.

Turn out! turn out! turn out!

You have dreamed full long, I know.
Turn out! turn out! turn out!
The east is all aglow.
Turn out! turn out!

From every valley and hill there come
The clamoring voices of fife and drum;
And out in the fresh, cool morning air
The soldiers are swarming everywhere.
Fall in fall in! fall in!

Every man in his place,

Fall in! fall in! fall in!

Each with a cheerful face,

Fall in! fall in!

FARRAGUT

Mobile Bay, August 5, 1864

BY WILLIAM TUCKEY MEREDITH

Farragut, Farragut,

Old Heart of Oak,
Daring Dave Farragut,
Thunderbolt stroke,

Watches the hoary mist
Lift from the bay,
Till his flag, glory-kissed,
Greets the young day.

Far, by gray Morgan's walls,
Looms the black fleet.
Hark, deck to rampart calls

With the drums' beat!
Buoy your chains overboard,

While the steam hums;
Men! to the battlement,
Farragut comes.

See, as the hurricane

Hurtles in wrath
Squadrons of clouds amain

Back from its path!
Back to the parapet,
To the guns' lips,
Thunderbolt Farragut
Hurls the black ships.

Men thy bold deeds shall tell,
Old Heart of Oak,
Daring Dave Farragut,
Thunderbolt stroke!

DRIVING HOME THE COWS

BY KATE PUTNAM OSGOOD

Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass
He turned them into the river-lane;
One after another he let them pass,
Then fastened the meadow-bars again.

Under the willows, and over the hill,
He patiently followed their sober pace;
The merry whistle for once was still,
And something shadowed the sunny face.

Only a boy! and his father had said
He never could let his youngest go:
Two already were lying dead

Under the feet of the trampling foe.

But after the evening work was done,

And the frogs were loud in the meadow-swamp, Over his shoulder he slung his gun

And stealthily followed the foot-path damp.

Across the clover, and through the wheat,
With resolute heart and purpose grim,