The Houston daily post. [volume] (Houston, Tex.) 1886-1903, 1898-06-19

TiaJor W. u. Penn, Generals Trimhie and
zen thompson and Others but some coyet-
GUS, eussed rebel took 1t from the little
pine table where had left it the night be-
fore. | was turned out. No money could
nave bought It, Asking pardon for this
IMPRESSION, herewith / give your readers
some crumbs picked up from feast as
relics of dreamland:
MY LOVE AND I.
BY Asa Hartz."
MY love reposes on a rosewood frame
bunk" have /;
A couch of feathery down fills up the same,
Mines straw, but dry;
She sinks to sleep at night with scarce
sigh,
With waking eyes l watch the hours creep
by.
My love her daily dinner takes In state,
And so do | Cd
The richest viands flank her silver plate.
Coarse grub have l.
Pure wines she sips at ease her thirst to
Stake
pump my drink from Erie's llmpid
lake.
My love has all the world at will to roam,
Three acres have l.
She goes abroad or quiet sits at home,
Bright angels watch around her couch at
night;
A "Yank,' with loaded gun keeps me in
sight.
A thousand weary miles now stretch be-
tween
My love and /;
To her this wintry night, cold, calm, Sc
rene,
I'll wait SIGH
And hope with all my earnestness of soul
Tomorrow's mail will bring in my parole.
There's hope ahead we'll one day meet
again,
My love and |:
Well wipe away all tears OF sorrow then.
Her love-lit eye
Will all my many troubles then beguile
And keep this hayward "Reb" from John
sons isle.
While Asa Hartz gilded the pathos of
prison life with touches of irrepressible
humor there were others over whose
hearts rested the pail of dark shadows,
with the relief of no cheer from the dawn
of hope Among these was Lieutenant
Howard C. Wright of the Thirteth Louis
lana infantry, marked on the page, from
which | copy
Sent to City Point on the sick and
wounded list for exchange. Died on his way
home"
He was a beautiful writer. not coplcus.
but classical.
THE DYING PRISONER OF WAR.
tBy Howard C. Wright)
Darker still the skies are growing;
Here and there a white speck showing,
Bleak and chilling winds are blowing,
On Lake Eries lonely shore.
While the surges never failing.
With their shroud-like wave-cap sailing,
Hoarsey sounds their dismal wailing.
on Lake Erie's lonely shore.
On pallet. wretched lying.
See that war-worn soldier dying;
Mournfully the gale is signing,
on Lake Erie's lonely shore.
Heavy his eyes are turning,
With a fsyerish fire burning,
Naught but alien skies discerning,
On Lake Erie's lonely shore.
Can he see young wife weeping,
AS she clasps her baby sleeping,
While Deaths nall is DER him creeping,
On Lake Fries lonely shore?
Can he hear mother praying,
Plaintive words OF sorrow saying,
While a chill ms puiSe 10 etdyih6b
On Lake Erie's lonely shore?
Sees he now the battle soaring.
With the crimson tide outpouring.
Can he hear the thunder roaring,
On Lake Eries lonely shore?
Sees he now ranks unboundins,
With a veil their foes surrounding,
Is that war cry sounding
On Lake Fries lonely shore?
Quickly are the moments heeting.
soon that heart will cease its beating
Dsath,s relief from sorrow greeting,
ON Lake Fries lonely shore.
park! What solemn tones are pealing,
Music through the air is stealing
Heavens hope--promises revealing,
On Lake Erie's lonely shore.
II YOU will print another. as a kind OF
postscript. | promise never to do so any
more. II is offered not for It's literary
merit but rather as perfumeless, iadeo
flower. kept pressed between the leaves OF
my old scrap book.
THE PRISONER ON LAKE ERIE.
fBy J. r. CD
The full. round moon in Gods piue peno,
nail ca