Stars and Stripes

Why did He die? Ah! blissful thought, When we near death and hell were brought, He left His Father’s courts above⁠— O, list to such amazing love⁠— And died to save.

Blest thought! He reigns victorious now, To whom all earth will shortly bow, Let men below and saints above Wonder at such stupendous love, As caused their God to die.

Hard-by those snowy cliffs, Shielded safe from cutting winds and icy Blasts, stood an humble, unpretending cot, Its low, thatched roof of matted moss Glimmered, when the morning sun brightened Up the valley, and cast its rays aslant through The tiny windows ignorant of glass. Its well- Scrubbed floor shone like polished wood; And all around an air of quiet, peace and Love, prevailed.

But ah! the cry of war, broke o’er the land. Cruel War, that rends the households and the hearts; That makes fond bosoms bleed; and waters all The sod with tears, Salty, agonizing tears, which, When they dry, leave furrows never healing.⁠— Sorrows, never ceasing.

The mandate came.⁠— Marco must go. What! leave the dear ones all Alone. The gray-haired sire sunning himself Without the cottage door? The little wife in Blooming womanhood? The cherub who in Human form had come to bless his home? Must he leave his treasures and away to Distant shores, perchance, lay clown to die? O! the thought was death itself. Yet go he Must. Each day he’d wander through the glade, Where every blade and tuft of grass was dear, So dear. All his life from babe to manhood, Here was spent. Here he grew, and loved, And wedded. Here the precious Mother in her Green old age had yielded to the sharp scythe

The day of Parting came. The sun was high when Marco Rose. The cheery little table decked with snowy Cloth was laid. Out from their frugal hoard Came every dainty Uranne could find. Naught was too good for him. The dear, the Faithful! He who had done all in human power To make her life joyous. Truly, she said, as tears Lingered in her eyes, “My lines in pleasant places Have been cast.”

Well long they tarried o’er that Meal. It seemed as though ’twould never end, And yet they were not eating. At last the babe Stretched forth its chubby hands and with Infantile speech, broke up the silent meal.

Marco arose⁠— Father, adieu. Take care of these as best thou Can’st. I know the load is much too great for Thee. Whose silvery hairs are whitening o’er with age. Do all thou can’st and leave the rest to “Him Who notes when e’en the sparrows fall.”

And now, Uranne! truest and best, I can Not give thee any more my heart, for thou had’st It all long ago. Thy love to me has been like Silver lining ’mid the clouds of life. Has opened up my heart to kindlier feelings For all who on this earth have naught to cheer, To solace them in hours like these.

But time doth Fly. Whether the moments teem with joy or Flit in sorrow. So Marco said, e’re yet I go, Take this bunch of half-blown buds and place Upon your breast, near your heart, and wear Them till I come. Let naught divide ’twixt Thee and them. ’Mid summer’s glow or winter’s Cold, loved one, wear them next thy heart. Their very name, Forget-Me-Not, will ’mind Thee of thy lover-husband.