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The News Of A Day

The News Of A Day image
Parent Issue
Day
15
Month
May
Year
1863
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

" Grent b.attle ! Times Extra I" Llie newsboy ciied, But it scarcely ríppled tlie living tirïe That ebbed and floWed in thenöisy street Witli its tKrobbing heart and its busy t'eet. Again through the Inun of the city tin illed "Great baltle- Times Exlra-Ten thousand killed!" And tlie little carrier hurried away With tho sorrowful news üf that winter day. To a dreary room in an attic biah Trembled the Words ol that sniall, sharp cry ; And a lonely widow bowed downjier head And mnrniured, Willic, niy Willie, is dead. 0 I feared it ivas not an idle dream That led me, last night, to tliat dark, deep stream Where thoground was wet witli a crimson rain And strewn all over with ghasily slain. The stars were dim for the uight was wild, But Ithreadedthegloomtill 1 lound my cbild. "The cold rain feil on bis upturned face, And the swift destróyer hád left no trace Of the sudden blow, and tnequick sharppain, Uut ti little wound, and a purple stain. 1 tried to speak, but my voice was none, And my soul stood tliere in the cold gray dawn Til] they jjfled his body, with ruthless hand. And covered him up with the reeking sand. "Willie, 0 Willie ! it seems but a day Since thy baby head on my bosom lay, Since I heard thy praltle, so soft and so sweet, And euided the steps of thy tóttëring feet. And Uiou weit the fairest and last oithree ïhat the Fatlier in Heaven had giren to me ; All the life of my beart, love, hope and joy, Were treasured in thee, my strong brave boy; And the last i'aint words that thy father said Were, 'Wülie wil! mind thee when 1 am dead.' But they tore the flag from thy death-cold haud And cov-ered thee up in the reeking sand." She read the names of the missing and slain ; But one she read over again and again : And the sad, low words that her white lip said Were, "Compnny C: William Warren dead." The world toiled on through the busy street, With its aching hearts and unresting feet ; The Digbt came down to her cold hearthstone And she still read on in the same low tone, And still the words that her white lipa said Werp, 'Compaiiy C, William Wanen, dead." The light of the morning chased the gloom From the emberless heart of that attic room, And the city's pulses throbbed again, But the mother's heart bad forgotten its pain. She had gone through the gales to that better land With that terrible list in her pale cold hand, With her white lips partod, as last she said, "Company C, William Warren, dead."

Article

Subjects
Old News
Michigan Argus