The south-western. [volume] (Shreveport, La.) 1852-1870, 1867-07-31

BY MRS. BETTE HUNTER.
How often do we murmur when called yield are,
The loving and beloved when round them every care
But with utter wretchedness hear OF those who die,
Mid enemies, in prison, with only strangers by.
All who marked the captires tear when silently it fell
Or who can tell his longing within his prison cell,
For free mans step once more the broad green ear1h
Ere es unanswered yearings, and time for him were
done.
Three years almost passd since that dreary month
In which my darling brother, in prison dying lay
And still wheneer the Spring time, returns with bamy
Mournfuy doth thought brood Ger that sad, sad scene
of Death
Fearfy the fever ragged like lava through each vein,
And those about him knew he would be of pain
But they little needed it, so calous had they grown
God that human hearts should become as hard as
stone!
l would had been with him; twould be such comfort
For have often soothed him, when fever burnt his
If could not have won him. to life and health know,
| might have cheered some moments of bitterness and
woe
Sometimes in derium, his senses seemed to reel,
And he forgot the dreadful war; forgot its piercing
steel
Until some sudden movement with agony would thrill,
And wake his mind to without his power or will
AT length, there came time, when he was himself
again,
And Memory busy, within his throbbing brain,
(
Visions Of his distant Aome beneath the Southern
skies.
The thought that its dear inmates, darling wife and
child,
He might never clasp again. had almost made him wild
He could not even leave them farewell message there
For oh! be was in prison, who would the message bear
He thought upon his brother-his eyes filled with
tears,
memry of their boyhood those happy careless years.
He knew that brother then was upon tented field
And he prayed that Gods right arm would be to him
shield.
Then as he thought of me- he could his
was his only sister, and ever loved him WE'LL
And then my little children-to him very dear
Oh twas hard indeed to die when none of
near
His pain seemed almost gone, when hope whispered to
his heart
That some of us might come, ere his spirit should de-
He listened for our footsteps and watched the opnng
door,
And sometimes thought he heard US upon the outer
Listen" he said, that's my wife thing / heard
her speak
Go bring her hither quickly, I'm growing faint and
I'm sure heard my sister; now shall soon be WELL
To charm away this fever their presence brings SPELL"
Oh with what bitter anguish, he learned not
His heart seemed almost breaking so great was his
despair
lie murmur'd Ger names, then he sadly laid him
So pale, still he, that they thought his life was
gone.
And cen his enemies as they looked upon his form,
With pity felt their hearts to the rebel soldier
That one young, noble, should pale and dying lay
When those he loved so deeply all so far away
He breahed fervent prayer unto the Throne of Grace
And those who saw him then, marked the light upon
his facet
light calm, holy, that there held her breath
AS she gazed upon what seemed SO like peaceful death
There tears within her eyes-God bless that gen
tie onel
Who thus could feel for him, dying away from home
He was Southern soldier; she fingered by his side,
And gently closed his eyes, when my captive brother
died.
They tell us angels hover er every dying bed
My brother had been praying, and he comorted
II may be that mother to that stricken one
messenger from heaven, unto her loved dying son
Perhaps she led his spirit, to yonder world on high
Where there are no more PRISONS and where they do
not die
feel indeed my brother those pearly gates went in
For faith in Jesus teaches his soul was washed from
There soldiers graves in Nashvilles burial
grounds;
They say my brothers resting within of those
mounds
They may with idle jestng have laid him meath the
sod;
But they could not harm him then, his spirit was with
God!
A holocaust to Freedom, how many lives became
Like his, aud nations honor Southern soldiers
name;
They have not died in vain though no monument may
tell
Of how they died in prison or how in battle fell!
March IS, 1866.