Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/274

256 What fancies I wonder are thronging her brain, For her cheeks flush warm with a crimson glow! Perhaps ah! me, how foolish and vain! But I d give my life to believe it so! Well, whether I ever march home again To offer my love and a stainless name, Or whether I die at the head of my men, I'll be true to the end all the same.

CHRISTMAS NIGHT OF 62

The wintry blast goes wailing by, The snow is falling overhead; I hear the lonely sentry s tread, And distant watch fires light the sky. Dim forms go flitting through the gloom; The soldiers cluster round the blaze To talk of other Christmas days, And softly speak of home and home. My saber swinging overhead Gleams in the watch fire s fitful glow, While fiercely drives the blinding snow, And memory leads me to the dead. My thoughts go wandering to and fro, Vibrating twixt the Now and Then; I see the low-browed home again, The old hall wreathed with mistletoe.