Ellsworth American., 1909-05-26

| But, blind with the years of her weeping,
1 His mother yet mourns for her dead.
The soldiers who fall In the battle
May feel but moment of pain,
But the women who wait in the homesteads
Must dwell with the ghosts Of the sIain.
Dear NJ. B. Friends;
The above tender poem, which must
appeal to every heart and especially so to
those of us who remember vividly the
Civil war. comes from N, and to her / am
grateful for it. She writes in personal
letter:
! Enclosed find poem appropriate for Mem
orial Day, or any time, as after fifty years the
soldier lads are still held in remembrance
! think we scarcely realize how very
young the boys were who went to the war.
/ We would call most of them schoolboys
now; many of them were schoolboys
then. In looking over the adjutant gem
erals report of those years of the Civil war
one can scarcely believe the majority of
enlisted men we're less than twenty years
of age. No wonder disease, and weary
marches, and exposure never before ex-
I perienced, caused the death or enfeeble-
ment of many brave-hearted sons of the
North.
| People of tc-day-by that / mean the
active new generation, who has come
into the worlds work with no recollection
Of that terrible struggle-can have no idea
of the ordeal which the dwellers in the
whole country passed through in those
years. In many of the towns in this
county, and in all The other counties and
states the mail facilities were very mesger;
| telegrsphic service was expensive and tele-
| phones were an unheard- of convenience.
/ Two mails a week in many town, and in
some only one in seven days, brought de-
layed news of battles of which rumors had
some time before been received.
| Was il the .4th or the 9Th or the 18th
/ Maine that was in the battle? We must
wait till Friday when the Boston Journal
will be due, and then-with bated breath
the list of the ''dead, wounded and miss
ing" was anxiously read. Yes, some of
''our boys" are in the list. And the cry
went up from .snguished hearts every
where: ''How long, oh, Lord? How long?"
! The war has long been over, but in a few
days the boys who died will be again re-
membered and the boys who still live will
be publicly honored for their service to
their country and their loyalty to their
country's flag.
The following poem, written during the
war, was selected for our column some
1 from US.
HIS MOTHERS SONG.
Beneath the.hot midsummer sun
The men had marched all day;
And now beside a ripping stream
Upon the grass they lay.
| firing of games and idle Jest
| As swept the hours along,
They cried to one who unused apart:
"Come, friend, give us a song"
| 81 fear cannot please" he said;
THE only songs know
Are those my mother used to sing
| For me long years ago."
| "sing one of those" a rough voice cried,
| There's none but true men heres
To every mothers son of us
| mothers songs are DEAR
Then sweetly rose the singers voice y
Amid unwonted calm:
"Am a soldier of the.cross,
| follower of the Lamb9
And shall fear to own His causeg',
| The verv stream stilled,
And hearts that never throbbed with fear
With tender thoughts were filed.
| Ended the song; the singer said.
| As to Eis feet he rose
Thanks to you all, my friends, good night,
God grant usisweet repose."
''sing us one more" the captain begged.
| The soldier bent his head,
Then glancing round, with smiling lips:
| You'll join with meq' he said.
"We'll sing this old familiar air,
| Sweet as the bugle call:
All hail the power Of Jesus name,
Let angels PROSTATE fall;'"
4 Ahi wondrous was the old tunes spell,
As on the soldier sang,
Man after man fell into line,
And loud the voices rang.
The songs are done, the camp is still,
Naught but the stream is heard;
But ali! the depths of every soul
BY those old hymns are stirred,
And up from many a bearded lip,
|