sides to choose and take a bout
Upon the question, which I stated
As having been so well debated,
Namely, "Can christians go to war,"
The very devil might abhor
To contemplate this proposition
Offspring of pride and superstition
That brothers by a second birth,
Should make a very hell of earth.
The war of words waxed loud and long,
Each side was right, the other wrong;
The speakers eager for the fray,
Wished their ten minutes half a day;
But time and tide will wait for none,
So glibly did the gabble run,
That nine o'clock soon spoiled the fun,
And all that rising tide of words,
Was smothered never to be heard.
The fight is o'er, the race is run,
And soon we'll know which side has won,
But this is not so easy done;
Indeed I have a world of pity
For the executive committee
Who hear in silence all this clatter
And then decide upon the matter;
To give each speaker justice due,
And sift the error from the true,
Is not an easy thing to do.
To decide what facts have any bearing
Upon the question they are hearing,
And generally keep in hand
The arguments, so strong and grand,
And draw from them a just conclusion
Without a mixture of confusion;
The negative got the decision
Unanimous, without division.
The speakers then took their position,
Upon the doubtful proposition
Of the repeal of gold resumption,
Upon the plausible presumption,
That those who pay must have the money,
That laws of Congress, (that seems funny,)
Are not above the laws of trade,
And therefore cannot be obeyed.
Here now my muse, poor worthless jade,
Deserted, as I was afraid
From the beginning she would do;
So I must say good-night to you,
And these long rambling minutes close,
In just the dullest kind of prose.

RETROSPECTION.

The phantoms have flown which I cherished;
The dreams which delighted have passed;
My castles in air have all perished--
I grieved o'er the fall of the last.

'Twas bright, but as frail as a shadow;
It passed like a vapor away--
As the mist which hangs over the meadow
Dissolves in the sun's burning ray.

The joys of my youth are all shattered;
My hopes lie in wrecks on the shore;
The friends of my childhood are scattered;
Their faces I'll see never more.

Some are estranged, some have gone under;
The battle of life is severe.
When I stand by their graves, the wonder,
The mystery, seems to be clear:

They were vet'rans more noble than I;
And placed in the van of the fight,
The