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CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR. 291

Accept the end He called you for, And soon the land shall be at rest.

Give freely as of old He gave;

Your fathers owned the boon from Him. Before the golden hour grows dim, Stamp it with FREEDOM for the slave.

Ye hear, ye children of the free

;

And where an ancient wrong hath stood, Ye plant, and water with your blood, Your Christmas Tree of Liberty.

The Christ-Child smiles its branches through,
With heaven's clear smile on black and white;
The Tree has filled the land with light
And cooled its wounds with balm and dew.

Dark faces, you no more shall be

Darker with shadows of our hate;
Receive our greeting-gift, though late,

A Happy New-Year, and be Free!

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THE COLOR SERGEANT.

THE COLOR SERGEANT.

BY A. D. F. RANDOLPH.

You say that in every battle

No soldier was braver than he,
As, aloft in the roar and the rattle,
He carried the flag of the Free:
I knew, ah! I knew he'd ne'er falter,
I could trust him, the dutiful boy.
My Robert was wilful, but Walter,
Dear Walter, was ever a joy.

And if he was true to his mother,

Do you think he his trust would betray, And give up his place to another, Or turn from the danger away? He knew while afar he was straying, He felt in the thick of the fight, That at home his poor mother was praying For him and the cause of the Right!

Tell me, comrade, who saw him when dying, What he said, what he did, if you can ; On the field in his agony lying,

Did he suffer and die like a man?

Do you think he once wished he had never

THE COLOR SERGEANT.

Borne arms for the Right and the True ? Nay, he shouted Our Country forever!

When he died he was praying for you!

O my darling! my youngest and fairest,
Whom I gathered so close to my breast;
I called thee my dearest and rarest,

And thou wert my purest and best!
I tell you, O friend! as a mother,
Whose full heart is breaking to-day,
The Infinite Father-
-none other

Can know what He's taken away.

I thank you once more for your kindness,
For this lock of his auburn hair:
Perhaps 't is the one I in blindness

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Last touched, as we parted just there ! When he asked, through his tears, should he linger From duty, I answered him, Nay: And he smiled, as he placed on my finger The ring I am wearing to-day.

I watched him leap into that meadow;
There, a child, he with others had played;

I saw him pass slowly the shadow

Of the trees where his father was laid; And there, where the road meets two others,

294

THE COLOR SERGEANT.

Without turning, he went on his way:

Once his face toward the foe not his mother's

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Should unman him, or cause him delay.

It may be that some day your duty
Will carry you that way again;
When the field shall be riper in beauty,
Enriched by the blood of the slain;
Would you see if the grasses are growing

On the grave of my boy? Will you see
If a flower, e'en the smallest, is blowing,
And pluck it, and send it to me?

Don't think, in my grief, I'm complaining;
I gave him, God took him, 't is right;
And the cry of his mother remaining

Shall strengthen his comrades in fight.
Not for vengeance, to-day, in my weeping,
Goes my prayer to the Infinite Throne.
God pity the foe when he's reaping
The harvest of that he has sown!

Tell his comrades these words of his mother: All over the wide land to-day,

The Rachels, who weep with each other,

Together in agony pray.

They know, in their great tribulation,

MASSACHUSETTS.

By the blood of their children outpoured, We shall smite down the foes of the Nation, In the terrible day of the Lord.

I

MASSACHUSETTS.

BY B. P. SHILLABER.

HEAR an army's mighty tread,
And the sound of war's alarms;
I read a thought, serene but dread,
Written in gleaming arms;

A solemn purpose fills the air
Like the holy effluence of prayer.

I feel the thrill of a people's heart
In the drum-tap's stirring beat,
And the quickened pulse's fervid start
In the rush of hasty feet,

And the gleam of vengeful glances shines
Along the bayonets' glistening lines.

I see a nation's triumph stand

In acts of generous trust,

Where wealth unclasps its iron hand

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