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Poetry

Poetry image
Parent Issue
Day
19
Month
December
Year
1879
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

Yes, Louia, go, your country calis, I will not keep you here, For e ery soldier in the flelil sume heart holds jlJSt MS At And tenrs will eomeat partin# which we vainly strive to hide- Go, mid the bnsy din of war forget your Enk'lisk brido. "Bot-whenthe amoke bas cleared away and the battle's done, Fou'll think oL ïcr who prays ior you trom riso t i II set of sim, And i brighter dnys, whcn, bome with pi 5Tou'li galn a Joyous welcome from your ivaitingUiiHü.-ii bride." His firm hands clasped hors liindly, whilo his dark eyes searched her face- Afac i a sweetness, with a gleam of ice - But, oh. tfie woman'a love was thorc, half half pride, Ohl how flercc i he struggrle in the heart of nis Enfilish brido. "Gire me onc token, Bertha, of th love you bee That . :fc's duller hours shall tiim my 1 hons'hts to thee: A ribbon you have worn will do ii these dear hands have pressed lts Slik II ivcar it tnere f ore ver on my brcast." She Rtnnd in ihoiifrht one momont, incn her flngers, white and fitfr, WTith ffleamin wandered in ber mass of golden Kair; And as he iicl! the tulcen, that one little, shinlng iress, It ooiled .i. 'inid his flngers with a loving-, mute earess. "This is the tokcn, Louis, that will bid you think rif me, And may God's holy angels keep a watcbíul o'i r thee, To guide your steps in liatüo safe, unharmed l'rom shot or sheM ; Butahould you tall, 1 'IJ try tosay, "Ho doeth all things well.'" "What, tears, my próntle Bertha? - and I 1 hoi : ■ ' st i irave. Wckimw the future, darllug, holds manya soldier'g yravï - Holds many wivea and oT-phans who will walt and watch in vain Fortheetep and volco tliat never will groet their ('ir asraln." Back f-nm hor pure white forchead he held the sunny bair, And ). 'a burnlng kiss of loye and plty ther&- A soldier' s tender, Longing kiss- ahí many a . . I - The saddest words in every tonguc are thoso whicli s.iy farewell. Oh, weeks that their weary enp-ih along tin Each night un! moni the torturo of suspense To rol) the nching head of rest, to flll the heart with pain, And with their slow-consuming fire at last to crazethe brain. Brave soldier in the fieVlof strif e, though hard You cannot know the anxious hours she !s who waits forthee, Forw. ition' gires the sharpost pang WC ! And i ittlo probes the wound with r cJse than stool. Oh, woTn'ii, toiling all the day mid hunger, ■ "With ■ For thoughts or tcars, and searcely time for y r Your labor ig, for, though deop your beart-fel1 Tou have no hours íor mad'innír thoughts and ■i s t hüt craze the brain. Then " For tender hands whorc To bil ttered, broken limb, to close To pj Grüd's altar for mariy n. hard. And v ■ .. töHGftven as oily iruuian can. When rd the sumraons a3 it carne acm Shc la n's weakness hy, and, asking ti ie, She lef I ; hern home, wiih all its luxuAnd Joln the "Red Cross" sisterhood 'mid scènes of patn and woe. Many a dytng soldier turncd Tvith Wtstful, Tocata dworda shc spokc of rest ■ Some v;"_-ipi,v thought tue girlieh faco, shaded halr, In th' but apure, swcet angel bendinf? 1Í; Thcn H and mothors shc sent the . MP, In'tlic place i . ■ who never mon wotiJ . ome, And droped a tear of pity f'jrihe homes made ilato, Wherenowthe ffolden dawn of peace would only cornu too late. Once, bending o'cr n ghastly corpse wïth :■' ! ■■! PaCO, She tUotïfrh n aia mother in those swoll . Onedoar look to remind her of the son she Unless p 'iio wavy nnir iviilcii hia temples lay? What sí lied bcv bcart's wild beatisg, then? Whai "Oh,! itcannotbe; but this dark bair '■ So vi-i Is' hair, all bright and Xke batile-ftelti N strewn withdead, and some are dark-haired men." Just where a !eath-win;ud ball had torn . art, And t ion, ragged rent aboye nis Onolittlo tress was cling-lng in the long, unf. All ui. ii.art's best gore- a tresa oí irolilen hair. With palltd ehcp'.c raid dizzy brain she sank ■Ttowi . ion comes whenhearts (■:ü! bear ïk more. I3:it, (i.J3. the wakening cometh, too, witü hopeAnd i:' itato happy hours that wil! not come again. Back rnshed the tirte of Ufe again to lip and Twaa Hf o wil ray of hope to checr Twaa Ufe - but, oli, it Reemcd so long: to toil and weop and walt, Forhorthe joyiul mornof Peace would dawn- but, all tou late. Bae!c to work '.-th softer light In her dark cyeSpcaki 'vis of comfort with a hcaling balm, the same As ihoug-h her awn hoart suilered not, bravely p lin, And nursed bcaith'a blootn and courage back to faltering heartfl ajaln. Just whero ihe Bv.n feil brightcst on a wcary A f on ! with torture in the clasp of A vrbite brow, falrand truibful, hali' oonoeoled by ; air, '■' cLarling In hls youth lay dying' ihere. And-Bertha, by him, caught tho ao That i - Ui bis loved home, that vineciï ■! '. -i tage v. ,. His feet bad roamed n lri.ifhtcrdays; but ere the prayer waa She ! . tearful eyes, for tho boy's soul h&d öed. The men who stood In waitinpr bore the gfender 1H il! Wbileshesi . ■■ ciarse, rough pillow where latí Andïighed for tbose to wbom the talo would eai-ry untöld pain, Asthi-y l.iil another suldier wuere tho dead boy's heaü had lain. Pale, ghastly pale, hla cheek and brow, and ■ Thcy told her that Ue oould not live, they'd broughi bim homo to die. But in bis f ace she fw a look that blanched her check as white As when she Btood [)f'-4do her doad and every hopetook t!i'4ht. With Budden hpo sho l)ciils o'er htm, herfaco now flushed, nïw white. Har pal i her eyes grown dark ught; Witüin the Boldier's M,d-staincd coat she laya her hand - and there Hsr! i Bhining coil; "thank Gkxl, 'tfafirolden hair." 'Twas Louis; yog, and life wa8 thcre, thotig-h fliei I ' and dim. Day aft er day with rare she watchod and prayed for him, And God, who hears t heseprayerrs of ours, and knows each sad hemt s pain, Intoher (althful, loving hands gave back his life Bffaln. ]

Article

Subjects
Old News
Ann Arbor Argus