"It is nothing to me," the young man cried, ye tell, I can rule myself, I know full well." But 'twas something to him when in prison he lay A victim to drink, life ebbing away, He thought of his wretched child and wife And the mournful wreck of his wasted life. "It is nothing to me," the voter said, Though hearts were crushed and drunkards made. When his daughter became a drunkard's wife, And shuddered to hear their father's tread. Is it nothing for us to idly sleep, While the cohorts of death their vigils keep, THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS. E. C. STEDMAN. Whither away, Robin, Is it through envy of the maple leaf, Whose blushes mock the crimson of thy breast, The summer days were long, yet all too brief Whither away, Blue-bird, The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky Warbler, why speed thy southern flight? ah, why, Whither away, Swallow, Canst thou no longer tarry in the North, Here, where our roof so well hath screened thy nest Not one short day? Wilt thou-as if thou human wert-go forth CLEAR THE WAY. Men of thought, be up and stirring night and day, Sow the seed-withdraw the curtain, clear the way! Men of action, aid and cheer them as ye may. There's a light about to beam, There's a midnight blackness changing into gray, say What the unimagined glories of the day? Aid it for the hour is ripe, And our earnest must not slacken into play. Men of thought, and men of action, clear the way! Lo! a cloud about to vanish from the day And a brazen wrong crumble into clay. Lo! the right's about to conquer, clear the way! Enter smiling at the door; That for ages long have held us for their prey, SCOTT AND THE VETERAN. BAYARD TAYLOR. An old crippled veteran to the War Department of fame came, He sought the Chief who led him on many a field The Chief who shouted "Forward!" where'er his banner rose, And bore its stars in triumph behind the flying foes. "Have you forgotten, General," the battered soldier cried, "The days of eighteen hundred twelve, when I was at your side? Have you forgotten Johnson, who fought at Lundy's Lane? 'Tis true I'm old and pensioned, but I want to fight again.' "Have I forgotten?" said the Chief; "my brave old soldier, no! And here's the hand I gave you then, and let it tell you so; But you have done your share, my friend; you're crippled, old, and gray, And we have need of younger arms and fresher blood to-day." "But General," cried the veteran, a flush upon his brow, "The very men who fought with us, they say, are aitors now! They v torn the flag of Lundy's Lane, our old red, white and blue, And while a drop of blood is left, I'll show that drop is true. "I'm not so weak but I can strike, and I've a good old gun, To get the range of traitors' hearts, and prick them, one by one. Your Minie rifles and such arms, it ain't worth while to try; |