THE CLOVER MEADOW.

BYRON W. KING.

'Tis only a little story

Of a little love and tears,
That my memory has treasured
From out the whirling years;
Two children down in the meadow,
When the light of day has flown,
Tossing about the win-rows

Of clover hay new-mown;
A boy, with face of laughter
And many a golden curl,
And the comrade of his romping
A gleeful, blue-eyed girl;
Alone in the great, wide meadow,
Alone in the twilight's glow,
And the boy's voice keeps repeating
In tones so clear and low:

“I have a love that loves me,

She loves me well I know;

And hand in hand together

Thro' the great world we will go!"

And while the strains of music

Yet linger on his lips,

From out the arching heavens

Falls the deep night's black eclipse.

Ten years have passed forever
From out the lives of men,
And under the falling twilight
There linger two forms again.
A manly youth and a maiden
Are standing rapt and still
While the sunset's golden glory

Is folding the meadow and hill;
And he is so tall and handsome,
So manly and so true!

And she regards him fondly

With eyes that are deep and blue. Two lovers are planning the future With hearts that are brave and strong! And I hear with silent rapture

The words of that sweet old song:

"I have a love that loves me,

She loves me well I know;

And hand in hand together

Thro' the great world we will go.

The years, like a dream, have vanished,
And standing alone to-night,
As I think of the clover meadow,
A something dims my sight!
I wait by the cold, white sepulcher
And recall the tears I shed,
And lo! the portals open,

And they rise, my holy dead! ·
I can hear the call for battle,

For hero hearts and brave,

When a Nation calls her children
To succor and to save!

I can hear the battle music,
The roll of the stirring drum,
The tramp of the gathered millions
As the marshaled armies come.
And, now, as the night grows deeper,
And the midnight shadows fall,
They bring me a heavy burden

That is shrouded with heavy pall;
And my boy of the clover meadow,
My lover of after years,

Lies silent and cold before me

And heeds not my bursting tears!
And I can only murmur

Thro' the tears that blinding flow,
The song of the clover meadow,
Of that sweet old long ago:

"I have a love that loves me,
She loves me well I know;
And hand in hand together

Thro' the great world we will go !"

The years still flow in silence

And bear me on their breast And I stand in Life's evening shadows While its sunset gilds the west;

I wait in the solemn glory

That crowns Life's western dome, And out of the falling twilight

I hear the whisper, "come!"

And while I sadly linger

My eyes grow moist and dim,

And my soul goes

forth in answer

To the words that fall from him;

And while Life's latest glories
Are fading soft and slow,
I hear again the echoes,

The echoes sweet and low:

"I have a love that loves me,
She loves me well I know;
And hand in hand together

Thro' the great world we will go!"

BOYS IN BLUE.

INGERSOLL.

The past rises before me like a dream. Again we are in the great struggle for National life. We hear the sounds of preparation—the music of the boisterous drums the silver voices of heroic bugles. We see thousands of assemblages, and hear the appeals of orators; we see the pale cheeks of women, and the flushed faces of men; and in those assemblages we see all the dead whose dust we have covered with

flowers. We lose sight of them no more. We are with them when they enlist in the great army of freedom. We see them part with those they love. Some are walking for the last time in quiet, woody places, with the maidens they adore. We hear the whisperings and the sweet vows of eternal love as they lingeringly part forever. Others are bending over cradles, kissing babies that are asleep. Some are parting with mothers who hold them and press them to their hearts again and again, and say nothing; and some are talking with wives, and endeavoring, with brave words, spoken in old tones, to drive from their hearts the awful fear. We see them part; we see the wife standing in the door, with the babe in her arms