The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1866-10-28
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THE CKuTCH II TuE COKHER. J
The following poem from the Rochester Ds.p4
Graf is bv John McIatosh e1s pf our rising posi-
sewhy Biif~, vour room n n cold Asthe-hut
We had by the swamp and the river
Whers We LOST cor Major, and Tim, yon know,
And sixty more with the fever"
sfwel, Tom old fellow, it's hard enough,
But the best at times knock under
Thsre'e nary a stack If woed in ttse Aonss
Blu, that crutch in the corner yonder.
Sorry iiste, Don't ask me that Tom,
II the flag was again in danger,
I'd aim gun with thin aching stump
AT the foe were he brother or stranger.
But say, ought wound from shot or smell.
Or pistol bullet, by thunderi
Forever doom peor fellow to want
With that ar in the corner yonder-
That crutch, old eomrade, ought ever to be
A drnft at sight Oh the nation
For honor respect, and q friendly hand -
For clothing, and quarters and rstions.
Nv wife She begs Ut the Nugget House
Where the bigbngs live in aplendor,
And brag Der their wins of the fights that brought
Sach as that In the corner yonder.
And Charlie He goes to some place up town
Some ticket Jfor-soup arrangement,
All well enough for hungry boy
Bnt, Tom. its effect IL arrangement. ~
I'd sooner huve kicked the bucket twice Ger,
BY shell round ten-pounder,
Than live such life as ] m dong now,
With that NJ in the corner yondsr.
There's nary thing lef, for TO pawn sell:
And the winter has closed on labor;
This medal is all that Is left me new,
With nv pistol and trusty sabre
And them, by the sunlight above us, Tom,
No power from my trust can sunder
Save the power that releases me al last
From that ar IL the corner yonter.
! can raise this arm that's left me
10 the blessed heavens above us,
And swear by the Throne Of the Father, there,
And the angels all, who love us,
That the hand lost, and the hand I have
We're never yet stained by plumber;
And fer love Of the dear old Gag now
Use that in the corner yonder.
Dc ! nsk too much, when say, we boys
Who los, for the nations glory,
Now that the danger is past and gone,
In cuufort should tell our story?
How should we have fought when the mad ehella
screamed
And shivered our ranks, wonder
Had We known that LOT would have been
to beg
With that af the wonder.
There's little We hear Of now dayE
But pardon and reconstruction.
While the sojer who fought aud bled for both
l. left 10 his destruction.
'Iwcuid be we'll think, IN these nipping times
For these Congress fellows 10 ponder,
And think u Us boys who such things
As that ii the corner Wonder.
>-------
Herr is mellow little song, and seasonabls
one. 1t is from the pen of tina, charming poe,ess,
Miss Elizabeth Akers Florence percy)s
BROWN.
Never IL nv heart gay
In the bndding month Of May
Never does ii beat u tune
Half SO sweet in hloomy June.
Never knows sach happiness
As such q day this.
When October dane her crown,
And The leaves turning b.own.
Breathe. sweet ceiiiren, soft regrets
For The vanished Yioiets
sing. Won lovers. the delights
% the golden summer nights;
Never in the summer hours
On my way such radience showers
As from heaven falls softly down
When the ieaves turning brown
Braid sour girdles, fresh and CAV.
Children in the bloom ot May;
Twist yoar chapiets in youg june
Maiaens they viii fade fnli soon
Iwlnt rape Fnses, Juivred.
Lovers ier the dear ones head
will weave my richer
NheR the leaves turning brown