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, Dark faces, you no more shall be Darker with shadows of our hate; A Happy New-Year, and be Free! 292 THE COLOR SERGEANT. THE COLOR SERGEANT. BY A. D. F. RANDOLPH. You say that in every battle No soldier was braver than he, 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, And thou wert my purest and best! Can know what He's taken away. I thank you once more for your kindness, 293 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; 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 Should unman him, or cause him delay. It may be that some day your duty On the grave of my boy? Will you see Don't think, in my grief, I'm complaining; Shall strengthen his comrades in fight. 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, A solemn purpose fills the air I feel the thrill of a people's heart And the gleam of vengeful glances shines I see a nation's triumph stand In acts of generous trust, Where wealth unclasps its iron hand 295 |