Poems Teachers Ask For Volume I Part 36

"Backward?" Nay, onward, ye swift rolling years!

Gird on thy armor, keep back thy tears; Count not thy trials nor efforts in vain, They'll bring thee the light of thy childhood again.

Thou shouldst not weary, my child, by the way, But watch for the light of that brighter day; Not tired of "Sowing for others to reap,"

For angels, my darling, will rock thee to sleep.

Tired, my child, of the "base, the untrue!"

I have tasted the cup they have given to you; I've felt the deep sorrow in the living green Of a low mossy grave by the silvery stream.

But the dear mother I then sought for in vain Is an angel presence and with me again; And in the still night, from the silence deep, Come the bright angels to rock me to sleep.

Nearer thee now than in days that are flown, Purer the love-light encircling thy home; Far more enduring the watch for tonight Than ever earth wors.h.i.+p away from the light; Soon the dark shadows will linger no more.

Nor come to thy call from the opening door; But know thou, my child, that the angels watch keep, And soon, very soon, they'll rock thee to sleep.

They'll sing thee to sleep with a soothing song; And, waking, thou'lt be with a heavenly throng; And thy life, with its toil and its tears and pain, Thou wilt then see has not been in vain.

Thou wilt meet those in bliss whom on earth thou didst love, And whom thou hast taught of the "Mansions above."

"Never hereafter to suffer or weep,"

The angels, my darling, will rock thee to sleep.

Bay Billy

(_December 15, 1862_)

'Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg,-- Perhaps the day you reck, Our boys, the Twenty-second Maine, Kept Early's men in check.

Just where Wade Hampton boomed away The fight went neck and neck.

All day the weaker wing we held, And held it with a will.

Five several stubborn times we charged The battery on the hill, And five times beaten back, re-formed, And kept our column still.

At last from out the center fight Spurred up a general's aide, "That battery must silenced be!"

He cried, as past he sped.

Our colonel simply touched his cap, And then, with measured tread,

To lead the crouching line once more, The grand old fellow came.

No wounded man but raised his head And strove to gasp his name, And those who could not speak nor stir, "G.o.d blessed him" just the same.

For he was all the world to us, That hero gray and grim; Right well we knew that fearful slope We'd climb with none but him, Though while his white head led the way We'd charge h.e.l.l's portals in.

This time we were not half way up When, midst the storm of sh.e.l.l, Our leader, with his sword upraised, Beneath our bayonets fell, And as we bore him back, the foe Set up a joyous yell.

Our hearts went with him. Back we swept, And when the bugle said, "Up, charge again!" no man was there But hung his dogged head.

"We've no one left to lead us now,"

The sullen soldiers said.

Just then before the laggard line The colonel's horse we spied-- Bay Billy, with his trappings on, His nostrils swelling wide, As though still on his gallant back The master sat astride.

Right royally he took the place That was of old his wont, And with a neigh that seemed to say, Above the battle's brunt, "How can the Twenty-second charge If I am not in front?"

Like statues rooted there we stood, And gazed a little s.p.a.ce; Above that floating mane we missed The dear familiar face, But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire, And it gave us heart of grace.

No bugle-call could rouse us all As that brave sight had done.

Down all the battered line we felt A lightning impulse run.

Up, up the hill we followed Bill,-- And we captured every gun!

And when upon the conquered height Died out the battle's hum, Vainly 'mid living and the dead We sought our leader dumb.

It seemed as if a spectre steed To win that day had come.

And then the dusk and dew of night Fell softly o'er the plain, As though o'er man's dread work of death The angels wept again, And drew night's curtain gently round A thousand beds of pain.

All night the surgeons' torches went The ghastly rows between,-- All night with solemn step I paced The torn and b.l.o.o.d.y green.

But who that fought in the big war Such dread sights have not seen?

At last the morning broke. The lark Sang in the merry skies, As if to e'en the sleepers there It said "Awake, arise!"

Though naught but that last trump of all Could ope their heavy eyes.

And then once more, with banners gay, Stretched out the long brigade.

Trimly upon the furrowed field The troops stood on parade, And bravely 'mid the ranks were closed The gaps the fight had made.

Not half the Twenty-second's men Were in their place that morn; And Corporal d.i.c.k, who yester-noon Stood six brave fellows on, Now touched my elbow in the ranks, For all between were gone.

Ah! who forgets that weary hour When, as with misty eyes, To call the old familiar roll The solemn sergeant tries,-- One feels that thumping of the heart As no prompt voice replies.

And as in faltering tone and slow The last few names were said, Across the field some missing horse Toiled up with weary tread.

It caught the sergeant's eye, and quick Bay Billy's name he read.

Yes! there the old bay hero stood, All safe from battle's harms, And ere an order could be heard, Or the bugle's quick alarms, Down all the front, from end to end, The troops presented arms!

Not all the shoulder-straps on earth Could still our mighty cheer; And ever from that famous day, When rang the roll-call clear, Bay Billy's name was read, and then The whole line answered, "Here!"

_Frank H. Ga.s.saway._

The Legend of the Organ-Builder

Day by day the Organ-builder in his lonely chamber wrought; Day by day the soft air trembled to the music of his thought; Till at last the work was ended; and no organ voice so grand Ever yet had soared responsive to the master's magic hand.

Ay, so rarely was it builded that whenever groom and bride, Who, in G.o.d's sight were well-pleasing, in the church stood side by side, Without touch or breath the organ of itself began to play, And the very airs of heaven through the soft gloom seemed to stray.

He was young, the Organ-builder, and o'er all the land his fame Ran with fleet and eager footsteps, like a swiftly rus.h.i.+ng flame.

All the maidens heard the story; all the maidens blushed and smiled, By his youth and wondrous beauty and his great renown beguiled.

So he sought and won the fairest, and the wedding-day was set Happy day--the brightest jewel in the glad year's coronet!

But when they the portal entered, he forgot his lovely bride-- Forgot his love, forgot his G.o.d, and his heart swelled high with pride.

"Ah!" thought he, "how great a master am I! When the organ plays, How the vast cathedral-arches will re-echo with my praise!"