The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1871-06-01
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sthe1l l5s aea Be- Gao ssa3 aatt dag.
Hara ar BIS taaasfH.as Fsa asag.
That ass .a Jolly s.a.yaarea
Toe Fefy day iaa' aaleas Ire.
Fiaru n ssatbem ea,u.y
EsHaI EBa beaten. ta.t saE4 rseinl
Eram stubborn Me43a ASA D barren felA
aisai ffH goa a9F. Jul tAp dar b.fare,
iaau Hara- st5aa at alt cottage door,
Locking aasu tle r8sEg street
Where, ia lAu Shade 20 h.s peaceful vine,
Ha heard iha lsa % bs gathered Aae
Aud t.i tHef bgsstA aHsa incense svaG.
or, Im gat sag, aaea ihs aaasat 5graod.
Toe o.l farm gable, De Uoagh B turned
I4e mt.A taat ts.l ia a bab8aag a1o4
Int lae ms.k Pss' red a. blood
o. uEw he fsuelsd t.ss hUm oi bees
Were bullets 0uzz.ug among the trees.
But aA eHah iaaa.la thoughts a. these
We're strange lp prae.. al m4l ike Blras.
Rao minded oaly his ovn g3ncerus,
Troubled uo mors by A0eses aae
TLaa one 81 bis ealm eyed long tailed lint:
quite o'd fsh.ouod aal mat.er-oI het
slou 90 argue. bus qp.sk be act.
That wss she reason as aame felix's ssy,
Ho fought s1 wen op that t,lH5,p day.
And il wss terrible On the right
Ragged 'or hours the hoays dsAt
rbulcred the batterys double bass,
D.aiealt music f5r mou TO face.
Wulie GA the left where now the gray,s
Uu3uata like the living aayes,
That all the day uueea-ng swept,
. Up 10 the pits the re5els kept
Ronnd sho, plowed the uplaod glade-,
S1sh with bullets, roaped With bl4das;
sLRticred fences here aud there,
Tossed their spIgters Ia the aiI
The very trtca wore stripped aud bare
The barns that Unc3 he'd yellow grlin-
Were hsaped sith har,ests o! the slain
The cattle beloved ou the plain,
The turkeys screamed with might aad main,
And b. Joi.us bsra fowls LEFT t4oir reat,
with strange shells bursting in each breast.
Just where the tide of battle turna,
Erect and loasly stood oh J3ua Blns.
Hos do sou think the man was dresselg
he wore an ancient long ban yest,
le!ias aa saffron, tut his best:
An boltourl o,er his manly breast,
Was bright blue coat, with a rolling collar.
Aud large gilt battous-s.zc O; dollar,-
With tails that cUu4try folks call "swoller."
He wore a broad brmmod, bsIi crowned hat.
White as the locks on which il sat.
Never had such q sight been seen
For forty years On tho village green,
Since old john Duras was country beau,
And went to the quiltugs long ago.
Close at the elbows all that day.
Veterans Of the Peninsula,
sunburnt and bearded, charged away
And striplGgs. dosny Of lip and chin,
Clerks that the Home Gaard mustered in,
Glanced as they past at the bat lie were,
Then At the rife his right hand bore
Aud hailed him from out their youthful lore
With scraps Of slangy repertoire,
How are you, white hat2 Pa. hor through
Your head g level, and Bally for you
Called him Daddy, begged he'd disclose
The name Of tho tailor who made his cloihet
And what was the yalus he set on those
While Barns, unmindful Of jsor and scon
Stood there picking the rebels of,
With long brown rifle, aud bad crowned bat,
Aud the swallow tails they we're laughing at
rwas bat a moment, for that respect
Which clothes all courage their voices check
Aud something the widest could understand
spake in the old man's strong right hand;
And his corded shroat, and the lurking frow
; Of his eyebrows under his old boll-crown
! Until, as they gazad, there crept an awe
y Thry' the ranks in whispers, aud some men s
1 In the antique yestments and long white hal
. The past Of the Matt IN iu battle tgero,
And some Of the soldiers since declare
That the glJam Of his Old white hat aiar,
Like the crested plane Of the brave Nagarr
That day was their othamme Of war.
50 ragged the battle Y0u know the rest
How the rebel', beaten aud backward prcsst
Broke at the fiual charge aud ran.
AZ which John Burns-s practical MIN
shouidered his ride ua5eut his bross,
And then went back to his bess sul cows,
That &. the story Of Old john Burns,
This is the moral the reader learns.
10 fighting The battle, the question = aheth
You'll shos hat that Z white, or feather