He stood with his upraised glass, and the light
Full on his fair young brow beamed bright,—
That brow which an anxious mother would kiss
With a pure, deep feeling of heartfelt bliss;
And along the line of his comrades young,
To honor his toast, each hand upsprung:
In not one glass did the red wine gleam;
But all were filled from the crystal stream.
On the morrow, adown the street,
With trumpet's blast and war-drum's beat,
Firm and erect, with martial tread,
The flag of their Country overhead,
With brave, stout hearts, and patriot-song,
The Nation's heroes go marching along.
And our soldier is there, marching forth
To join the bands of the loyal North;
To strike a blow for his Country dear,
And her trailing flag to again uprear.
Light is his heart ; his faith is strong;
Bright gleams his sword as he moves along:
But the armor he wears that shall serve him best
Is the pledge to his mother guarding his breast.
George M. Baker.
THE LEAK IN THE DIKE.
A STORY OF HOLLAND.
The good dame looked from her cottage
At the close of the pleasant day,
And cheerily called to her little son
Outside the door at play,—
"Come, Peter, come! I want you to go,
While there is light to see,
To the hut of the blind old man who lives
Across the dike, for me;
And take these cakes I made for him—
They are hot and smoking yet:
You have time enough to go and come
Before the sun is set."
