nstinctive thrown:
Repose is yours--your deed is known,
It musks the amber wine;
It lives, and sheds a litle from storied days
Rich as October sunsets brown,
Which make the barren place to shine.

But seldom the laurel wreath is seen
Unmixed with pensive pansies dark;
There's a light and a shadow on every man
Who at last attains his lifted mark--
Nursing through night the ethereal spark.
Elate he never can be;
He feels that spirits which glad had hailed his worth,
Sleep in oblivion.--The shark
Glides white through the prosphorus sea.

Presentation to the Authorities,
by Privates, of Colors captured in Battles ending in the
Surrender of Lee.

These flags of armies overthrown--
Flags fallen beneath the sovereign one
In end foredoomed which closes war;
We here, the captors, lay before
The altar which of right claims all--
Our Country. And as freely we,
Revering ever her sacred call,
Could lay our lives down--though life be
Thrice loved and precious to the sense
Of such as reap the recompense
Of life imperiled for just cause--
Imperiled, and yet preserved;
While comrades, whom Duty as strongly nerved,
Whose wives were all as dear, lie low.
But these flags given, glad we go
To waiting homes with vindicated laws.

The Returned Volunteer to his Rifle.

Over the hearth--my father's seat--
Repose, to patriot-memory dear,
Thou tried companion, whom at last I greet
By steepy banks of Hudson here.
How oft I told thee of this scene--
The Highlands blue--the river's narrowing sheen.
Little at Gettysburg we thought
To find such haven; but God kept it green.
Long rest! with belt, and bayonet, and canteen.

The Scout toward Aldie.

The Scout toward Aldie.

The cavalry-camp lies on the slope
Of what was late a vernal hill,
But now like a pavement bare--
An outpost in the perilous wilds
Which ever are lone and still;
But Mosby's men are there--
Of Mosby best beware.

Great trees the troopers felled, and leaned
In antlered walls about their tents;
Strict watch they kept; 'twas _Hark!_ and _Mark!_
Unarmed none cared to stir abroad
For berries beyond their forest-fence:
As glides in seas the shark,
Rides Mosby through green dark.

All spake of him, but few had seen
Except the maimed ones or the low;
Yet rumor made him every thing--
A farmer--woodman--refugee--
The man who crossed the field but now;
A spell about his life did