Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1873-08-13
HER STORY.
By WASHINGTON GLADDEN..

By WASHINGTON GLADDEN..
HERE at the gate let us stand and wait
Till the grand procession pass;
The marshal first in marvellous state,
With the drums and the sounding brass;
Then the veterans brave sin blue, draw near,
With sober, soldierly air;
And the halt and the MANNED are riding here,
And the priest and poet there.
And now the troop of children comes,
In wavy, hesitant files
AL bright with the blush of the early blooms,
All wreathed in roses and smiles.
They are hating now at the graves OF the boys,
And dirge will be softly sung;
And the parsonwill give to faith voice,
And the poet to love tongue.
But you and I, my Harry and Bess,
Will turn from these well-meant words,
Apart through the woodland silences-
Alone with the breezes and birds.
Here, at this grave, where the pine bOughs greye,
Where the solemn south winds roam,
Our rosemary and we'll leave,
And carry our heart's-ease home.
Did promise2 Well, there's nothing new,
But the joy and the pain are one,
Sit down on the bank here, Bessie, and you
Lie on the grass, my son.
Fourteen next month! You were only four
When your father went away;
And you, little queen, were scarcely more e
Than babe that desolate day.
A sudden and terrible call had come
For an army of volunteers;
And the tidings brought to our happy home
Hard struggles and boding fears.
That night he sat in solemn mood,
And held you both to his breast;
/ saw on his brow the shadow brood
And darken-I knew the restl
He carried you up to your crib that night,
And watched with you till you slept
Then praying that God would guide him a1lght,
The strong man wrestled and wept.
i found him praying, and left him there
Alone with his father and you;
The Helper lifted his load of care,
And lightened his sorrow too.
And then he came forth and told me all;
I could neither strive nor cry;
He would follow his suffering country's call,
Who would dare to forbid? Not l.
You know the story-the parting word,
The year that drearily passed.
The drowning pain of a hope deferred,
The binding blow at the last
But here is a picture you never saw
On this side mother and Bess,
Hal on the other; the little flaw
Is the dint of a ball, guess.
He carried it always here, by his heart;
And when they led him away
Faint, from the field where he bore his part
So gallantly on that day
When they laid him down in a sheltered nook
(rhe chaplain told me this),
He drew it forth, and with many look
And many passionate kiss,
He gazed till he heard the order ''Resti'
And then, when his spirit passed,
1t dropped from his hands upon his breast,
And they found it there at the last.
That is all, my darllngs, have to TELL
Like another diviner friend,
Having loved his own in the world SO well,
He loved them unto the end.
The love that he left to you and me
Is our fortune and our pride;
The truest. manifest man was he
And he loved us all till he died.
Come hither, Harryl I'll lean you,
His brow and his mouth are there:
And yours, little Bess, are his eyes of blue
And his wealth of golden hair.
So here at his grave, where the pine bOughs grieve
Where the solemn south winds roam,
Our rosemary and our We'll leave,
And carry our heart's-ease home.
-Congregotionazist