feeble head,
That it seems as if he said,
"They are gone."

The mossy marbles rest
On the lips that he has pressed
In their bloom,
And the names he loved to hear
Have been carved for many a year
On the tomb.

My grandmamma has said--
Poor old lady, she is dead
Long ago--
That he had a Roman nose,
And his cheek was like a rose
In the snow.

But now his nose is thin,
And it rests upon his chin
Like a staff,
And a crook is in his back,
And a melancholy crack
In his laugh.

I know it is a sin
For me to sit and grin
At him here;
But the old three-cornered hat,
And the breeches, and all that,
Are so queer!

And if I should live to be
The last leaf upon the tree
In the spring,
Let them smile, as I do now,
At the old, forsaken bough
Where I cling.

O.W. HOLMES.

The Old Kentucky Home.

A NEGRO MELODY.

The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky Home;
'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;
The corn-top's ripe, and the meadow's in the bloom,
While the birds make music all the day.
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
All merry, all happy and bright;
By-'n'-by hard times comes a-knocking at the door,--
Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!

Weep no more, my lady,
Oh, weep no more to-day!
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky Home,
For the old Kentucky Home, far away.

They hunt no more for the possum and the coon,
On the meadow, the hill, and the shore;
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
On the bench by the old cabin door.
The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
With sorrow, where all was delight;
The time has come when the darkies have to part,--
Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!

The head must bow, and the back will have to bend,
Wherever the darkey may go;
A few more days, and the trouble all will end,
In the field where the sugar-canes grow.
A few more days for to tote the weary load,--
No matter, 'twill never be light;
A few more days till we totter on the road,--
Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!

Weep no more, my lady,
Oh, weep no more to-day!
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky Home,
For the old Kentucky Home, far away.

S.C. FOSTER.

The Black Regiment.

Port Hudson, May 27, 1