Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/98

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
78
THE LAST OF SIX
They heard their brothers' martyr blood call from the hallowed ground;
A loud, imperious summons that all other voices drowned.

I did not say a single word. My very heart seemed dead.
What could I do but take the cup, and bow my weary head
To drink the bitter draught again? I dared not hold them back;
I would as soon have tried to check the whirlwind on its track.

You know the rest. At Cedar Creek my Frederick bravely fell;
They say his young arm did its work right nobly and right well;
His comrades breathe the hero's name with mingled love and pride;
I miss the gentle blue-eyed boy, who frolicked at my side.

For me, I ne'er shall weep again. I think my heart is dead;
I, who could weep for lighter griefs, have now no tears to shed.
But read this letter, neighbor. There is nothing to alarm,
For Harry's in the hospital, and has only lost an arm!