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 when they go
Through the pines on the summit where they blow,
Chanting solemn music for the souls that passed below.

FOR ONE OF THE KILLED.

There on the field of battle
Lies the young warrior dead:
Who shall speak in the soldier's honor?
How shall his praise be said?

Cannon, there in the battle,
Thundered the soldier's praise,
Hark! how the volumed volleys echo
Down through the far-off days!

Tears for the grief of a father,
For a mother's anguish, tears;
But for him that died in his country's battle,
Glory and endless years.

THE TWO WIVES.

(TO COLONEL J. G. M., IN MEMORY OF THE EVENT BEFORE ATLANTA.)

I.

The colonel rode by his picket-line
In the pleasant morning sun,
That glanced from him far off to shine
On the crouching rebel picket's gun.

II.

From his command the captain strode
Out with a grave salute,
And talked with the colonel as he rode;--
The picket levelled his piece to shoot.

III.

The colonel rode and the captain walked,--
The arm of the picket tired;
Their faces almost touched as they talked,
And, swerved from his aim, the picket fired.

IV.

The captain fell at the horse's feet,
Wounded and hurt to death,
Calling upon a name that was sweet
As God is good, with his dying breath.

V.

And the colonel that leaped from his horse and knelt
To close the eyes so dim,
A high remorse for God's mercy felt,
Knowing the shot was meant for him.

VI.

And he whispered, prayer-like, under his breath,
The name of his own young wife:
For Love, that had made his friend's peace with Death,
Alone could make his with life.

BEREAVED.

The passionate humming-birds cling