The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1892-07-14
UNKNOWN TO HISTORY.

The Story of Secluded Grave Where
the Daisies Grow in Profusion.
They were boy and girl together. Like
flowers that grow side by side without
asking why or wherefore, these two had
| always been together, laughed and wept
together all through the dream lapse of
their childhood. One day they dallied
in field where daisies grew.
(Which is your favorite flower, Mar
gie?' asked the boy.
"Why, Harry, don't you knowa The
daisy" and she picked one as she an
| swered.
"And why?" he queried further.
because they have hearts of gold,"
| she said, (which means that they are
true and faithful" And then they talked
of other things, while overhead the new
moon silvered in the sky and colored
evening came. Soon after from the lit
tie cottage on the hill Margaret heard
the calling of her name, and then the
children said good night and went to
dreams which only children know.
The years rolled on and brought their
changes. The boy and girl were man
and woman. The country was at war.
The air reverberated with the echoes Of
cannonade on Sumter, in which ominous
peal of iron thunder every man whose
blood ran young and strong had heard
| the calling Of his name. Harry had
heard his and answered "Herew and
Margaret approved. They were engaged,
and yet she babe him go. The wedding
day was fixed, and yet she babe him go.
Oh, woman! how sublime thou art in
moments such as these! Which blood,
/ wonder, will be thought most sacred
on the reckoning day-the red blood of
men shed amid the glory and the din of
battle or woman's tears-those colorless
blood drops of the heart-shed unseen
amid the common places Of existence?
Which, I wonder, will be deemed the
hero, he who gives his life and dies or
she who gives her life and lives?
The night before he went Harry came
to say goodby. It was soft and balmy
and the moon was full. Margaret met
him at the cottage door, and they strolled
together in the meadow where the daisies
grew. She picked and gave him one.
"Take this" she said, 'sand wear it,
Harry. Let it be the Mizpah of our
separation-this little flower which we
have loved together since our childhood.
Let it be our emblem in the face of
death--if death needs be-true to the
last, golden hearted to our country and
to one another. May God be merciful,"
she prayed and rested her head on
Harry's shoulder.
He took the flower, but could not
speak. What else they said, what else
they did, is secret Of the vagrant clouds
and Bonded treetops. All that we know
is that they parted on that Silly night.
Yet no one saw the moon grow paler,
nor heard the woodlands shudder, nor
the night wind moan; not even sobs
were heard-so noiseless is the breaking
of human heart, as noiseless and I'M
needed as the falling leaf in autumn.
The days-those days which seem as
years-crept on and brought their
changes. Harry was dead and Margaret
slowly dying. At first he wrote each
day, and then less often, and then for
weeks there came no word at all. At
last letter came, and as she opened it
a withered daisy fell upon her lap. She
read as follows:
sit is the eve of battle; tomorrow we
fight our first great fight. shall place
the daisy which you gave me in this let
ter when completed, and wear the letter
next my heart. If I be of those who
stay upon the field some friendly hand,
know, will speed this letter on its way,
but if'-
She read no more. Her hands dropped
listlessly at her sides; the letter dropped.
Motionless she gazed, like one en-
tranced, through the open window
where she sat; she saw the field where
they had picked the daisies in their
childhood-:the field where they had said
goodby-the field where they should
never meet again; then suddenly dark
ness, as of moonless night, fell on her
vision and she swooned away. Then
came the sickbed, then the days.of hope,
of despair, and then sweet death.
Her grave is in the little churchyard
of the village and bears these words:
DIED FOR HER COUNTRY. !: