AT LAST. 213
There was "muster" first in the early morning;
Thank God, that they all might answer " Here !" There were troops to fit for the hill of Science,
With many a halt and many a tear.
There were hands and hearts in a skirmish wounded, Waiting the touch of her tender hand ;
Small uniforms out at knees and elbows, And for rations, always a new demand.
There were "shamrock troops" to be safely guided
Out of the bogs into beaten ways, And the "needle-corps " to be armed and ready
For a new advance against coming days.
" Guerilla Care " always hid in ambush To catch her sleeve on his thorny spear ;
While within herself some traitor weakness Whispered at times of failure drear.
Where is the chaplet fit to crown her,
Thus as she halts when day is done, With a day s campaign so wisely guided
Betwixt the dawn and the setting sun ?
��AT LAST.
H^RAIN from the West !" The parted crowd
1 Fell back each side the iron road ; A little hush a moment fell
Just as the engine screamed and slowed.
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