There they stood in the failing light, These men of battle, with grave, dark looks, The fern on the hillsides was splashed with blood, For the foe had crossed from the other side Herbert Kline!" At the call there came Bearing between them this Herbert Kline, "Ezra Kerr !"—and a voice answered, "Here!" "Hiram Kerr!"-but no man replied. They were brothers, these two; the sad winds sighed, And a shudder crept through the cornfield near. 'Ephraim Deane !"-then a soldier spoke : 66 Deane carried our regiment's colors," he said; "Where our ensign was shot I left him dead, Just after the enemy wavered and broke. "Close to the roadside his body lies; I paused a moment and gave him drink; He murmured his mother's name, I think, And Death came with it, and closed his eyes.” 'Twas a victory; yes, but it cost us dear,For that company's roll, when called at night, Of a hundred men who went into the fight, Numbered but twenty that answered "Here!" N. G. SHEPHERD. BY CHICKAMAUGA RIVER. AGAIN the wandering breezes bring Twelve times the Springs have oped the rills, Twelve amber Autumns sighed, Since hung the war-cloud o'er the hills, The year that Charlie died. The Springs return; the roses blow, And flutes the ring-dove's love-call low, But one dear voice, one cherished tone, For Charlie fills a grave unknown, Kind Nature sets her blossoms there, But we may lay no garlands fair Above his loved remains. A white stone marks an empty grave And his dear name to it we gave The winds of Fall were breathing low, The swallow left the eaves; We heard the hollow bugles blow, When fell the harvest sheaves. And swift the mustering squadrons passed, We thought of Charlie ever, And swift the blue brigades were massed Along the mountain spurs we saw The wreaths of smoke ascend; And, all the Sabbath day, in awe, We watched the war-cloud blend Oh, how our hearts then beat for him, How Thomas thundered past, when broke How down the sky in flame and smoke Low sunk the copper sun; The still night came, and who were saved We could not tell; our banner waved And some returned with happy feet; The fair-haired boy we used to meet And all the changing years recall The year that Charlie died. Yet such a gift of God as he 'Tis blessed to have cherished; And they shall ever stainless be Who've nobly fought and perished. He nobly died, and he can know But green the grass for him shall grow Again I see the mountains blaze Old Lookout Mountain towers afar It plumed its head with flags of war On wooded Mission Ridge increase HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH. THE BATTLE IN THE CLOUDS. ["The day had been one of dense mists and rains, and much of General Hooker's battle was fought above the clouds, on the top of Lookout Mountain."- -General Meigs's Report of the Battle before Chattanooga, Nov. 23-25, 1863.] WHERE the dews and the rains of heaven have their fountain, Like its thunder and its lightning our brave burst on the foe, Up above the clouds on Freedom's Lookout Mountain Raining life-blood like water on the valleys down below. O, green be the laurels that grow, O, sweet be the wild-buds that blow, In the dells of the mountain where the brave are lying low. Light of our hope and crown of our story, Bright as sunlight, pure as starlight shall their deeds of daring glow, While the day and the night out of heaven shed their glory, On Freedom's Lookout Mountain whence they routed Freedom's foe. O, soft be the gales where they go Through the pines on the summit where they blow, Chanting solemn music for the souls that passed below. WILLIAM DEAN HOWElls. AFTER ALL. THE apples are ripe in the orchard, At the cottage-door the grandsire A woman is kneeling beside him; And far from over the distance |