And so all night marched the nation's dead, With never an arch save the vaulted sky; So all night long swept the strange array, With a reverent awe and wonder,— The Copperhead. (1864.) THERE is peace in the swamp where the Copperhead sleeps, Where the waters are stagnant, the white vapour creeps, Where the musk of Magnolia hangs thick in the air, And the lilies' phylacteries broaden in prayer. There is peace in the swamp, though the quiet is death, Go seek him he coils in the ooze and the drip, : Like a thong idly flung from the slave-driver's whip; But beware the false footstep,-the stumble that brings A deadlier lash than the overseer swings. Never arrow so true, never bullet so dread, As the straight steady stroke of that hammer-shaped head; Whether slave or proud panther, who braves that dull crest, Woe to him who shall trouble the Copperhead's rest! Then why waste your labours, brave hearts and strong men, Lay your axe to the cypress, hew open the shade A Sanitary Message. LAST night, above the whistling wind, A fusillade upon the roof, A tattoo on the pane : The keyhole piped; the chimney-top Yet, mingling with these sounds of strife, A softer voice stole through. "Give thanks, O brothers!" said the voice, "That He who sent the rains Hath spared your fields the scarlet dew But, oh the rain that gave it life Sprang first from human eyes. I come to wash away no stain I raise no banners, save the ones The forest waves to me: Upon the mountain side, where Spring Her farthest picket sets, My réveille awakes a host VOL. I. Of grassy bayonets. с "I visit every humble roof; And thus all night, above the wind, A fusillade upon the roof, A tattoo on the pane : The keyhole piped; the chimney-top But, mingling with these sounds of strife, The Old Major Explains. (RE-UNION, ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, 12TH MAY 1871.) WELL, you see, the fact is, Colonel, I don't know as I can come: For the farm is not half planted, and there's work to do at home; And my leg is getting troublesome,—it laid me up last Fall, And the doctors, they have cut and hacked, and never found the ball. And then, for an old man like me, it's not exactly right, No? Well, you understand it best; but then, you see, my lad, I'm deacon now, and some might think that the example's bad. And week from next is Conference.. You said the twelfth of May? Why, that's the day we broke their line at Spottsyl van-i-a ! |