THE BOYS. 143
Here, then, in the mountains, by strange, bitter fountains,
Seeking health, changing place for a 1 whim, We leave one another friends, lover, and mother
Leave eyes that without us grow dim ; We part from them lightly, who pray for us nightly,
Our names with a benison call ; Each merry to-morrow we drive away sorrow
With the thought, we shall meet " in the fall."
God grant that the portal to glory immortal
May lie through the old homestead door, Where faces that love us may circle above us,
To bid us good-bye nevermore ! But if tis denied us that loved ones beside us
Shall gather, His hand doeth all ; And there, loving stronger, we ll wait for them longer,
If we fail to meet here "in the fall."
nPHE boys are coming home to-morrow ! :
1 Thus our rural hostess said, Whilst Lou and I shot flitting glances Full of vague, unspoken dread.
Had we hither come for quiet, Hither fled the city s noise,