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Ibe Death of stonewall jackson

O gracious God! not gainless is the loss :

A glorious sunbeam gilds thy sternest frown, And while his country staggers with the Cross,

He rises with the Crown. [Southern.]

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" Let us

[The last words of Stonewall Jackson were : cross the river and rest under the shade of the trees.” -EDITOR.]

WHA

HAT are the thoughts that are stirring his breast?

What is the mystical vision he sees ? “Let us pass over the river, and rest Under the shade of the trees."

Has he grown sick of his toils and his tasks ?

Sighs the worn spirit for respite or ease? Is it a moment's cool halt that he asks

Under the shade of the trees?

Is it the gurgle of waters whose flow

Ofttime has come to him, borne on the breeze,
Memory listens to, lapsing so low,
Under the shade of the trees ?
Vol. II.

129

Nay—though the

rasp

of the flesh was so sore, Faith, that had yearnings far keener than these, Saw the soft sheen of the Thitherward Shore

Under the shade of the trees ;

Caught the high psalms of ecstatic delight-.

Heard the harps harpiug, like soundings of seasWatched earth's assoilèd ones walking in white

Under the shade of the trees.

Oh, was it strange he should pine for release,

Touched to the soul with such transports as these,He who so needed the balsam of peace,

Under the shade of the trees ?

Yea, it was noblest for him it was best

(Questioning naught of our Father's decrees), There to pass over the river and rest

Under the shade of the trees ! [Southern.]

STONEWALL JACKSON.

(Mortally wounded at Chancellorsville, May, 1863.)

BY HERMAN MELVILLE.

HE Man who fiercest charged in fight,

Stonewall ! Even him who stoutly stood for Wrong, How can we praise? Yet.coming days

Shall not forget him with this song.

Dead is the Man whose Cause is dead,
Vainly he died and set his seal-

Stonewall !
Earnest in error, as we feel ;
True to the thing he deemed was due,

True as John Brown or steel.

Relentlessly he routed us ;
But we relent, for he is low-

Stonewall !
Justly his fame we outlaw ; so
We drop a tear on the bold Virginia's bier,
Because no wreath we owe.

[graphic]

BY GEORGE H. BOKER.

DA

ARK as the clouds of even,

Ranked in the western heaven,
Waiting the breath that lifts
All the dead mass, and drifts
Tempest and falling brand
Over a ruined land,
So still and orderly,
Arm to arm, knee to kee,
Waiting the great event,
Stands the black regiment.

Down the long dusky line
Teeth gleam and eyeballs shine ;
And the bright bayonet,
Bristling and firmly set,

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