The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1866-10-03
SELECT POETRY.
From the Charleston Daily Ntws.l
I II E nelly We.
nF TGs. c. A. BALL.

w here tile earth is darksnel with Southerr
gore,
Sparkles aud bubbles little spring, =
Which never ceases its lay to sing,
o Ger n lonely grave.
'Tis spot that was made for peace and rcat,
Whers nature IN richest of robes is drest,
Where the birds alI fearlessly 6uild their nests.
And the weeping willows wave.
Many wounded Southern brave,
Has dragged himself here his brow to late,
And to dunk Of the waters clear and bright,
Which flashed and glanced in the moons solt
light,
Umhe cding his anguish cd moan.
And tho carpet of green around it spread,
Has pillowcd full many weary head;
And many a soul fom that grlssy bed
Has passed to the dark unknown.
Yet only one hiIlock, mossy and green,
BY that joyous dancing spring is seen,
Where the sighng winds wake a rlourufu wall,
And the gdove moans through the evening
gale,
And the frs their tall heads rear.
OF the countless hosts who III battle fell,
Or OF those whose dc ath-hour none can tell
Whose sous passed out from this shaded dell,
But one lies buried here
And who was he ? a brave Young boy,
OF his Southern home the pride and iov
The pct and darling Of every heart,
Who in his bright lie has shared part,
Aud but seventeen summers old.
Oh ! what n terrible grief was theirs,
As back in their souls they crushed their fears
And sent hm forth with prayers and tears,
From the parental fold.
Precious as was the boy to ALL
They gave him up at his country's call;
Honor to him was deare! than life,
And he pante! to enter the fed of strife,
And to shine on the roll of fame,
With a crown of blessing upon his head,
He on to the field of glory sped,
The blood of his pure Young heart to shed.
And to win himself name.
Bravely he bore him in the frav,
And W onder-struck were our boys in grew.
10 see lne youth with naShinE eve,
Press OH while shouting the LATHE cry,
To the thckest of the fight.
His dauntleSs men, his bearing bold,
His lace OF rare and besuteou. mould,
His head with its clustering waves Of gold,
Seemed filling the field with light.
Der the scene Of blood came joyous cry;
l.a fult a., II. a
And as the smoke of battle rose,
In circEng wreaths above their foes
They were seon from the ii eld to run.
The gallant boy his proud head raised,
While every feature with triumph blazed,
And now he cried, May our God be praised,
For the victory We have won.
With kindling cheek and glistening eye,
Aye this, he said, Were time to die,
The words from b is lips had hardly passed,
When a rushing sound came on the blast,
And the boy fell on the plain.
Twas a bullet that whlstled through the dir,
And With pitilcss blow struck the temple fair,
RIGht in the waves of his golden hair.
He never rose again.
Rude men shed tears DER that noble boy,
So suddenly called in his hour OF Joy,
When closed had seemed the mur derou, strife,
And saved, through ALL that bright young life,
To shine on glory's roll.
They bore him away TO the shaded dell,
And laid him TO rest n his narrow cell,
While the " cunning pines sighed out kncll
For the departed soul.
II was meet, they though, that one so fair
shoH1 lie laid in that spot o: bea uty rare,
Where the birds might warbIe DER his grave,
And the foliage green above him wave,
With The bright spring singing near.
And this is why that Of all who fell,
Or OF those whose death hour none can tell,
Whose souls passed out from this shaded dell,
But one lies buried here.
Charleston