IV.

Right gallantly and well he fought
  Hand to hand with as brave a foe,
Their faces hid by the nodding plumes,
  And the dense clouds hanging low.

Did they think, these hot-blooded captains,
  That Death was so close by their side,
When Howard has fallen, the bravest—­
  Rung out on the air far and wide.

“Howard?” His foeman kneels by his side,
  And raises his head to his knee—­
Oh, God! that brothers should part in youth,
  And thus should their meeting be.

Unheard is the deafening battle roar,
  Unseen is that dying look;
He hears but the sound of a childish laugh,
  And the song of a Northern brook.

He sees two white forms kneeling
  In the twilight sweet and dim,
One low couch angel-guarded,
  By a mother’s evening hymn.

V.

The Angel of Death came down with the night,
  Came down with the gathering gloom;
God pity the little dark-eyed girl,
  Alone in the lonely room.

But still by his side his brother kneels,
  Chill horror has frozen his veins;
He heeds not the glancing shower of shells,
  That with red fire glitters and rains.

And he heeds not the fiery cavalry charge,
  That sweeps like a billow on
To death, oh, the bravest and saddest sight,
  That man ever gazed upon!

The last shot!  What is one life
  To the battle’s gory gain? 
But, alas, for the little blue-eyed maid
  Away on the hills of Maine!

AWEARY.

The clouds that vex the upper deep
  Stay not the white sail of the moon;
And lips may moan, and hearts may weep,
  The sad old earth goes rolling on.

O’er smiling vale, and sighing lake,
  One shadow cold is overthrown;
And souls may faint, and hearts may break,
  The sad old earth goes rolling on.

TOO LOW.

“My house is thatched with violet leaves
  And paved with daisies fine,
Scarlet berries droop over its eaves,
  Tall grasses round it shine;
With softest down I have lined my nest,
Securely now will I sit and rest.

“When their wings break from their silvery shell,
  Touched by my tender care,
Here shall my little ones safely dwell,
  Little ones soft and fair;
Some summer morn they shall try their wings
While their father sits by my side and sings.”

Hard by, just over the streamlet’s edge
  A great rock towered in might,
High up, half hidden in moss and sedge,
  Were safe little nooks and bright;
Ah well for the bird with her tender breast,
Had she flown to the rock to build her nest!

Poor bird, she built her nest too low;
  Alas! for the bird, alas! 
That she chose that spot to her woe
  In the low dewy grass;
For the reaper came with his gleaming blade. 
Alas for love in the violet shade!