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NEVER again on the shoulder
To see our knightly bars;
Never again on the shoulder

To see our lordly leaves;

Never again to follow

The flag of the Stripes and Stars;
Never again to dream the dream
That martial music weaves.

Never again call "Comrade"

To the men who were comrades for years;
Never to hear the bugles,

Thrilling, and sweet, and solemn ;

Never again call "Brother"

To the men we think of with tears;
Never again to ride or march

In the dust of the marching column.

Never again be a sharer

In the chilly hour of the strife
When, at dawn, the skirmish-rifles
In opening chorus rattle;

Never to feel our manhood

Kindle up into ruddy life

'Mid the hell of scenes and noises

In the hot hours of the battle.

Crippled, forlorn, and useless,

The glory of life grown dim,

Brooding alone o'er the memory

Of the bright, glad days gone by;

Nursing a bitter fancy,

And nursing a shattered limb;

Oh, comrades, resigning is harder---
We know it is easy to die.

Never again on the jacket

To see our knightly bars;
Never again on the jacket

To see our lordly leaves;

Never again to follow

The flag of the Stripes and Stars;
Never again to dream the dream

That young ambition weaves.

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Pierced by shafts of Time, he bleeds,
Melted rubies sending
Through the river and the sky,
Earth and heaven blending;

All the long-drawn earthy banks
Up to cloud-land lifting;

Slow between them drifts the swan, "Twixt two heavens drifting.

Wings half open, like a flow'r

July deeper flushing,

Neck and breast as virgin's pure-
Virgin proudly blushing.

Day is dying! Float, O swan,

Down the ruby river; Follow, song, in requiem To the mighty Giver.

[blocks in formation]

"IT WAS IN THE PRIME."

(FROM "THE SPANISH GYPSY.")

It was in the prime
Of the sweet Spring-time.
In the linnet's throat
Trembled the love-note,
And the love-stirred air
Thrilled the blossoms there.
Little shadows danced-
Each a tiny elf-
Happy in large light

And the thinnest self.

It was but a minute
In a far-off Spring,

But each gentle thing-
Sweetly-wooing linnet,

Soft-thrilled hawthorn-tree,
Happy shadowy elf

With the thinnest self-
Live still on in me.
O the sweet, sweet prime
Of the past Spring-time!

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