m, but tighten their hold,
The cheek that he kisses, is ashy and cold,
And bowed with the grief she so long has suppressed,
She weeps herself quiet and calm on his breast.
At length, in a voice just as steady and clear
As if it had never been choked by a tear,
She raises her eyes with a softened control,
And through them her husband looks into her soul.

"I feel that we each for the other could die;
Your heart to my own makes the instant reply:
But dear as you are, Love,--my life and my light,--
I would not consent to your stay, if I might:
No!--arm for the conflict, and on, with the rest;
Virginia has need of her bravest and best!
My heart--it must bleed, and my cheek will be wet,
Yet never, believe me, with selfish regret:
My ardor abates not one jot of its glow,
Though the tears of the wife and the woman _will_ flow.

"Our cause is so holy, so just, and so true,--
Thank God! I can give a defender like you!
For home, and for children,--for freedoms--for bread,--
For the house of our God,--for the graves of our dead,--
For leave to exist on the soil of our birth,--
For everything manhood holds dearest on earth:
When _these_ are the things that we fight for--dare I
Hold back my best treasure, with plaint or with sigh?
My cheek would blush crimson,--my spirit be galled,
If _he_ were not there when the muster was called!
When we pleaded for peace, every right was denied;
Every pressing petition turned proudly aside;
Now God judge betwixt us!--God prosper the right!
To brave men there's nothing remains, but to fight:
I grudge you not, Douglass,--die, rather than yield,--
And like the old heroes,--come home on your shield!"

The morning is breaking:--the flush of the dawn
Is warning the soldier, 'tis time to be gone;
The children around him expectantly wait,--
His horse, all caparisoned, paws at the gate:
With face strangely pallid,--no sobbings,--no sighs,--
But only a luminous mist in her eyes,
His wife is subduing the heart-throbs that swell,
And calming herself for a quiet farewell.

There falls a felt silence:--the note of a bird,
A tremulous twitter,--is all that is heard;
The circle has knelt by the holly-bush there,--
And listen,--there comes the low breathing of prayer.

"Father! fold thine arms of pity
Round us a