See I thee

THE PARTING.

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bold, brave, and daring-on thy manly forehead wearing

The shadow of a purpose strong as every pulse of life,

See thee strike the foe before thee, while the rolling clouds sweep o'er thee

Oh! 'mid clashing swords and sabres, in the hottest of the strife.

I would never have thee falter! - better death or felon's halter

Than to see our cause defeated and a nation bowed in shame.

Were I man, grim death should claim me ere a coward's thought should shame me,

Or the stigma of inaction rise upon my manhood's fame!

Leave God have thee in His keeping ever, waking or in sleeping;

Every hour I breathe a prayer for our country's cause and thee;

And I feel this love will fold thee, till mine eyes again behold thee

In the flush of manly beauty and the pride of vic

tory!

B. Z. S.

$

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THE SOLDIER'S "GOOD-BY."

THE SOLDIER'S "GOOD-BY."

BY MARY E. NEALY.

GOOD-BY, my wife, my child, my friend,

'Tis hard to leave you all;

But there's a God in heaven above
Will bless and shield you with His love,
If I am doomed to fall.

You know I could not stay, dear love,
When over all the land

The shot of Sumter circled round,
And lifted, at a single bound,
This mighty patriot-band.

A thrill that never else had swept
Across this soul of mine,
Stirred up each tingling drop of blood,
Ready to pour a votive flood
Upon my country's shrine.

O dearest! there's a manhood lies,
Deep in these slender forms,
We know not of, till in our skies
Such clouds of danger o'er us rise

To fill our land with storms.

THE SOLDIER'S "GOOD-BY."

Then, like a mountain stream it comes,
A stream of power and might;

It echoes to the beat of drums,
It quails not when the fiery bombs
Break fiercely on the sight.

This war is sad; but I thank God

For this one blessed taste

Of manhood, strong within

my blood Of strength unknown, a mighty flood Which else had gone to waste.

My arms seem braced with nerves of steel,
My soul is firm and strong;

And, dearest, even now I feel

The power to crush beneath my
My share of this foul wrong.

heel

The man who springs not to his sword
In such a time as this,

To see his country's fame restored,
Is weak as he who slew his Lord
With a deceitful kiss.

Then ask me not. I cannot stay,
My own, my blessed wife;

'The God that looks on us to-day

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THE SOLDIER'S "GOOD-BY."

Will listen to you when you pray,
And shield your soldier's life.

Yet if I come not back again,
But fall beside my foe,

This blood will not be spilled in vain
Though it should fall like crimson rain
Where crimson waters flow.

I'm strong enough to die, dear love,
In such a cause as ours;

For I shall see from Heaven above
Freedom's fair bow above you wave,

Entwined with Freedom's flowers.

Now kiss me one "good-by," my wife,
Your task is worse than mine;

For while I revel in the strife,
You can but pray for this poor life,
With heroism divine.

'Tis weary

— all the dark suspense

A woman has to bear:

The anguished thoughts, the woe intense,
While booming cannon bear her hence
A fear for every prayer.

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THE WOODS OF TENNESSEE.

But you

- you must be strong and bright;
You are a soldier's wife :

I'll think of you by day and night,
Your love shall nerve me in the fight;
Good-by, my love, my life!

Louisville, Ky.

THE WOODS OF TENNESSEE.

ANONYMOUS.

HE whip-poor-will is calling

THE

From its perch on the splintered limb,

And the plaintive notes are echoing
Through the aisles of the forest dim:
The slanting threads of starlight

Are silvering shrub and tree,

And the spot where the loved are sleeping, In the woods of Tennessee.

The leaves are gently rustling,

But they're stained with a tinge of red -
For they proved to many a soldier
Their last and lonely bed.

As they prayed in mortal agony
To God to set them free,

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