A KING'S GRAt.i.tUDE.

Plain men have fitful moods and so have Kings, For Kings are only men, and often made Of clay as common as e'er stained a spade.

But when the great are moody, then, the strings Of gilded harps are smitten, and their strains Are soft and soothing as the Summer rains.

And Saul was taken by an evil mood, He felt within himself his spirit faint: In vain he tossed upon his couch and wooed Refreshing slumbers. Sleep knows no constraint!

Then David came: his physic and advice All in a harp, and cleared the mind of Saul-- And Saul thereafter launched his javelin twice To nail the harper to the palace wall!

"THE TWINSES." [13]

Two little children toddled up to me, Their faces fair as faces well could be, Roses and snow, but pale the roses were Like flowers fainting for the lack of air.

Sad was the tender study which I gave The winning creatures, both so sweet and grave, Two beautiful young Saxons, scarce knee high!

As like as peas! Two Lilliputian men!

Immortal ere they knew it by the pen Which waketh laughter or bedews the eye.

G.o.d bless you, little people! May His hand Hold you within its hollow all your days!

Smooth all the rugged places, and your ways Make long and pleasant in a fruitful land!

[Footnote 13: Children of his friend, Dr. George W. Bagby.]

DREAMERS.

Fools laugh at dreamers, and the dreamers smile In answer, if they any answer make: They know that Saxon Alfred could not bake The oaten cakes, but that he s.n.a.t.c.hed his Isle Back from the fierce and b.l.o.o.d.y-handed Dane.

And so, they leave the plodders to their gains-- Quit money changing for the student's lamp, And tune the harp to gain thereby some camp, Where what they learn is worth a kingdom's crown; They fashion bows and arrows to bring down The mighty truths which sail the upper air; To them the facts which make the fools despair Become familiar, and a thousand things Tell them the secrets they refuse to kings.

UNDER ONE BLANKET.

The sun went down in flame and smoke, The cold night pa.s.sed without alarms, And when the bitter morning broke Our men stood to their arms.

But not a foe in front was found After the long and stubborn fight.

The enemy had left the ground Where we had lain that night.

In hollows where the sun was lost Unthawed still lay the shining snow, And on the rugged ground the frost In slender spears did grow.

Close to us, where our final rush Was made at closing in of day, We saw, amid an awful hush, The rigid shapes of clay:

Things, which but yesterday had life, And answered to the trumpet's call, Remained as victims of the strife, Clods of the Valley all!

Then, the grim detail marched away A grave from the hard soil to wrench Wherein should sleep the Blue and Grey All in a ghastly trench!

A thicket of young pines arose, Midway upon that frosty ground; A shelter from the winds and snows, And by its edge I found

Two stiffened forms, where they had died, As sculptured marble white and cold, Lying together side by side Beneath one blanket's fold.

My heart already touched and sad The blanket down I gently drew And saw a st.u.r.dy form, well clad From head to heel in Blue.

Beside him, gaunt from many a fast, A pale and boyish "rebel" lay, Free of all pangs of life, at last, In tattered suit of Grey.

There side by side those soldiers slept Each for the cause that he thought good, And bowing down my head I wept Through human brotherhood.

Oh, sirs! it was a piteous thing To see how they had vainly tried With strips of shirts, and bits of string, To stay life's ebbing tide!

The story told itself aright; (Print scarce were plainer to the eye) How they together in the night Had laid them down to die.

The story told itself, I say, How smitten by their wounds and cold They'd nestled close, the Blue and Grey, Beneath one blanket's fold.

All their poor surgery could do They did to stop their wounds so deep, Until at last the Grey and Blue Like comrades fell asleep.

We dug for them a generous grave, Under that sombre thicket's lee, And there we laid the sleeping brave To wait G.o.d's reveille.

That grave by many a tear was graced From ragged heroes ranged around As in one blanket they were placed In consecrated ground.

Aye! consecrated, without flaw, Because upon that b.l.o.o.d.y sod, My soul uplifted stood and saw Where CHRIST had lately trod!

THE LEE MEMORIAL ODE.

"Great Mother of great Commonwealths"

Men call our Mother State: And she so well has earned this name That she may challenge Fate To s.n.a.t.c.h away the epithet Long given her of "great."

First of all Old England's outposts To stand fast upon these sh.o.r.es Soon she brought a mighty harvest To a People's threshing floors, And more than golden grain was piled Within her ample doors.

Behind her stormy sunrise shone, Her shadow fell vast and long, And her mighty Adm'ral, English Smith, Heads a prodigous throng Of as mighty men, from Raleigh down, As ever arose in song.

Her names are the shining arrows Which her ancient quiver bears, And their splendid sheaf has thickened Through the long march of the years, While her great shield has been burnished By her children's blood and tears.

Yes, it is true, my Countrymen, We are rich in names and blood, And red have been the blossoms From the first Colonial bud, While her names have blazed as meteors By many a field and flood.

And as some flood tumultuous In sounding billows rolled Gives back the evening's glories In a wealth of blazing gold: So does the present from its waves Reflect the lights of old.

Our history is a shining sea Locked in by lofty land And its great Pillars of Hercules, Above the shining sand, I here behold in majesty Uprising on each hand.

These Pillars of our history, In fame forever young, Are known in every lat.i.tude And named in every tongue, And down through all the Ages Their story shall be sung.

The Father of his Country Stands above that shut-in sea A glorious symbol to the world Of all that's great and free; And to-day Virginia matches him-- And matches him with Lee.

II.