The Sunday globe., 1901-07-14


the Civll War:
/ am pining, sweetheart, pining-
And my heart is sad and low
Hope has ceased delusive shining,
And my spirit feels the blow.
l have been a soldier, fearless
And in danger cool and brave
MY dungeon has been fearless,
But | shudder at the grave!
! am pining, sweetheart, pining-
And my soul shrinks at its doom
Not a cloud hath silver lining
Not a ray relieves the gloom.
have faced the armed foeman,
To give freedom to the slave
I've lived like antique Roman
But | shudder at the gravel
! am pining, sweetheart, pining--
For the shadows deepen more,
And remorse is gorged from dining
On the hopes / held of yore
Let no foeman know this feeling
Nor cold pity basely crave
For I smile, my anguish yelling
But shudder at the grave!
| am pining, sweetheart, pining-
Soon oblivion will be mine,
Though Pm barred from quietly lying
In that restful tomb Of thine,
But a still fond Hope is left me-
As my scatt'ring senses rave;
'Tis that God will show me mercy,
And grant-a Freeman's Grave!
Here is one whose deep religious
feeling manifests itself in a truly
Christian spirit;
The heart bowed down with silent
grief,
Despair its portals soon assails;
Oh! let such moments be but brief,
When spirit lost Ger man prevails.
Think not Of friend who, false, be-
trayed,
Nor sweethesrts change, nor colder
wife
Recall those oaths when passion
prayed
For vengeance and for foeman's life,
We pass, dear friend, but once this
way;
Our Judge. accusers, ana our foe,
If false to God and man they play,
Not thou, but they shall suffer woe.
All stay is short, the longest span
Counts less than rain-drOp in the
sea
Arouse thee, then, despairing man,
And hail with hope-Eternity!
Blooms in thy cell a fragrance rare,
Pluck'd from thy guardian angels
wreath;
DO thou but nurture it with prayer,
And water it with tears of faith.
To humble hearts its petals ope,
Revealing bliss to streaming eye,
Immortal blooms this rose Of hope,
Gods flower life-Eternity!
And here is one from a well-known
life prisoner whose alleged crime wat
the vindication of his family honor
The reader will be pleased to learn
that he was subsequently pardoned:
The man who storms the belching guns
And charging mad1y, forward runs,
Nor foeInan fierce, nor death EN-
shuns-
Is brave.
The man defying flames and fire,
Where All who venture must expire.
A life to save from danger dire
Is brave.
The man who plunges in the deep,
When angry pillows roar and leap,
Restores the lost to those who weep
The man who for the friendless weak,
Stands boldly up like antique Greek,
And stakes his life where none dare
speak
Is brave.
The man who's lost the joys of life,
His fortune, freedom, babes and wife,
Whose heart sustains the sou's dread
strife
Is brave
And certain is this truth as death,
Such captive. who lifes ills has met,
OF all brave men is noblest yet
And brave.
Here is a self-sacrificing spirit who
is evidently only too willing to try the
other world, having but little pleasure
or happiness in this sphere;
Ho. Charon, no! thy oars dread sweep
In measured strokes across the deep,
In gloom of cell hear
Who waits thy craft by silent StyX,
Where prince and peasant equal mix
And equal stand in fear.
Dost maiden from her lover take,
Or mother ere her babe can wake
To kiss a last adieu!
Dost take from earth some lowly
swain,
Or high born lord who sues in vain
And trembling bows to you,
Here wealth, and rank and beauty
feast;
Here statesmen grave, the rake and
priest
Their several roles enjoy,
Can none of all this shivering throng
Their hour to cross thy stream pro-
long?
Ho, boatman, no! ahoy!
Thy silent Styx fain would ! cross;
No weeping kin bewail my loss
Ho, Charonl room, rrayl
Spare thou this Laid to lover dear
Her place / take-now, CharOn, steer!
Thou'st lost a prize to-day.
CTo BE CoSTNUED.)