A RAINY DAY IN CAMP.

And wife, soft-hearted creature,
Seems a-saying in my ear,
"I'd rather have you in those ranks
Than to see you Brigadier."

I call myself a brave one,
But in my heart I lie!

For my Country and her Honor
I am fiercely free to die.

But when the Lord who bought me,
Asks for my service here,

To "fight the good fight" faithfully,
I'm skulking in the rear.

And yet I know this Captain
All love and care to be;
He would never get impatient.
With a raw recruit like me.

And I know He'd not forget me,
When the Day of Peace appears;
I should share with Him the victory
Of all his volunteers.

And it's kind of cheerful, thinking
Beside the dull tent fire,

113

114

A RAINY DAY IN CAMP.

About that big promotion

When He says, "Come up higher."

And though it's dismal rainy,
Even now, with thoughts of Him,
Camp-life looks extra cheery,
And death a deal less grim.

For I seem to see Him waiting
Where a gathered Heaven greets
A great, victorious army,

Surging up the golden streets;

And I hear Him read the roll-call,
And my heart is all aflame,
When the dear, Recording Angel
Writes down my happy name!

But my fire is dead white ashes,
And the tent is chilling cold,
And I'm playing win the battle,
When I've never been enrolled.

BY THE BANKS OF THE CUMBERLAND. 115

BY THE BANKS OF THE CUMBERLAND.

BY S. C. MERCER.

BY the banks of the Cumberland echoes the roar

Of the sentinel's warning, — the foe's on the shore !

Our war-drums are beaten, our bugles are blown, And our legions advance to their musical tone.

By the banks of the Cumberland, slippery and red, With the death-dew of battle, and strewn with the dead,

Kentucky has routed her insolent foe,

And victory's star gilds the night of our woe.

By those banks, that once bloomed like an Eden of joy,

The demon of treason stalked forth to destroy; Our rich teeming harvests he swept in his wrath, And the blaze of our dwellings illumined his path.

Like an eagle-plumed arrow our Nemesis comes, Shout, soldiers! sound, bugles! and clamor, O drums!

Let the land ring aloud in the wildness of joy,
And the bonfires blaze brightly, but not to de-

stroy.

116

THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY.

For the God of the Union has prospered the right,
And the cohorts of treason have melted in flight.
Blow, bugles! roll, river! and tell to the sea
That our swords shall not rest 'till Kentucky is
free.

THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY.

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

WH

HAT flower is this that greets the morn,
Its hues from heaven so freshly born?
With burning star and flaming band
It kindles all the sunset land;·
O, tell us what its name may be!
Is this the Flower of Liberty?

It is the banner of the free,

The starry Flower of Liberty!

In savage Nature's far abode

Its tender seed our fathers sowed;
The storm-winds rocked its swelling bud,
Its opening leaves were streaked with blood,
Till, lo! earth's tyrants shook to see
The full-blown Flower of Liberty!

Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY.

Behold its streaming rays unite
One mingling flood of braided light, -
The red that fires the Southern rose,
With spotless white from Northern snows,
And, spangled o'er its azure, see
The sister Stars of Liberty!

Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

The blades of heroes fence it round;
Where'er it springs is holy ground;
From tower and dome its glories spread ;
It waves where lonely sentries tread;
It makes the land as ocean free,
And plants an empire on the sea!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower,
Shall ever float on dome and tower,
To all their heavenly colors true,
In blackening frost or crimson dew,
And God love us as we love thee,
Thrice holy Flower of Liberty!

Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

117