The Dying Volunteer

I am dying, alone, to-night. Mother, Dyiiig, alone, to-night ; The grass is my only coucli, Mother, The stars are my only light. The brow that you kissed long ago, Mother, Vihen you parted, in tears, from my sight; Is clammy, and cold as the enow, Motlier, ï'm dying, alone, to-night. Tijere's a terrible wound in my breast, Mother, Which I got in the front of the strife; And the warm blood 3 ebbing away, Motlier, Each drop is a sand of my life, Tet. oh ! if yon could but be near. Mother, The pain of my wouud would be light; But, alas ! there is no one to cheer, Mother, Vin dying, alone, to-night. And now, though ïny breath coometh hard, Mother, Still I think cf you all, left behind, I remembor my home in the North, Mother, Andmy brother and sisters so kind ; Oh, teil them t meet me again, Motlier, .At the sound of the last re-veille - ■F&rëwell ! tor Death eases my pain, Mo4.her, Aiiil angels are waiting for me. Whitmobï Lakr, Deo. 4th, 18C4.