líot ainong tlic rafiaring wounded; Not among the peaceful dead ; Not amoiig the priaoners. " Missixg," That was all the message said. Tet his motherreads it over, Until, through her painful tears, Fades the dear name she has called him For these two and twenty years. Round her, all is peace and plenty ; Bright and clean the yellow floor ; While the morning glorie3 cluster All around the kitchen door. Soberly the sleek old house cat Drowses in his patch of sun ; Neatly shines the oaken dresser ; All the morning'o work is done. Through (he window comeo that fragrance Of a sunny harvest morn, Fragrant fcongs from distant reapers, And the rustling of the eorn j And the rich breath of the garden - Where the golden meions lie ; Where the blushing plums are turning All their red cheeks to the sky. Sitting there witliin the sunshine- Leaning in her easy chair ; With soft lines upon her forehead, And the silver in her hair - Blind to sunshine - deadto fragrance - On that royal harvest morn ; Thinking, while the heart is weeping, Of her noble-browed first born. How he left her in t'ie Springtime, With his young hcart full of flame, With his clear and ringing footstep, With his lithe and supple frame.' How with tears his eyes were brimming, As he kissed a last "Good bye," Yetjshe heard him whistling gayly As he went across the rye.