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Peace Declared

Peace Declared Again. dear Comrades, we have gathered From every clime and every shore. To rehearse the old, old story For our warfare is most o’er. Yes, dear Comrades, we’ve been marching In the line our Brothers fell. Through the Battles that were hottest Through the carnage that was hell. Now we are gathered in their memory, 0! the stories we could tell. How they fought, bled and suffered For our Country in which we dwell. Years have past it’s now so different, Time has changes Us; to a Man. Some have passed beyond the river Never to return again. Some are sleeping here and yon-der, Underneath the evergreen. Some had left the dear old home-stead, Never more to see it again. We were glad when the war was over, And we’d conquered every foe. And brought into subjection, Every living Reb we knew. Now we are in the peaceful Valley, Where wars are never known. Let us pray for a continuance, Of peace, good will in every Home. G. W. Shellman. Kalamazoo, Mich., Oct. 21,...

If I Should Die Tonight

Battle Monument to the 13th Infantry, Chickamauga Battle Field If I Should Die Tonight If I should die tonight You earnestly ask me this Would I leave without regret Expecting future bliss? Would I fear the journey dark, O’er the shoreless sea of death? How would I meet the Monarch Grim, As I draw my dying breath? I would regret to go, To leave beloved ones fair, Whom I have tried and know Their love and friendship rare. Whose constancy has cheered Me, along life’s thorny way, ‘Twould cause me great regret, To leave them, and go to stay. But apart from that regret, Which the breaking of these ties Would cause my aching heart, With anguish and surprise; To hear death’s sentence passed Upon my mortal strife, Why should I fear to pass, To the destiny of life? For an host am I, who waits The coming of this guest. So certain as I am of life, I shall hand him when I meet him, My scepter and shall say, “The same power that made me live, Now makes you tenant of my clay.” Certain am I that God Hath made no snare for me, By my faith in Him, A bridge across the chasm I see. My faith in nature’s wisdom, Has always been supreme, Nor preacher, priest, nor bigot, Could make it other seem. it is a clinging finger, For the invisible hand to take, And I serenely await my time. For he makes no mistake, If I should die tonight, Like the withering of a fern, With placid eyes I’d smile on Death And say,...

To The Thirteenth Infantry

Following is a poem composed and read by Mrs. Kenyon, wife of Captain Kenyon of the old Fighting 13th: When Sumter fell by traitor hands, And war-clouds dark hung low, When anxious hearts prayed for one gleam Of light to cheer their woe: When men with patriotic zeal Sprang to their country’s aid; And mothers, wives and sweethearts, too, Upon the altar laid Their bleeding hearts; (Oh gift most rare) And bade their loved ones go Perchance to die, that the dear old flag Might never be laid low. Then came the “Boys” of Michigan, The boys we loved so well; They bade good-bye to wife and home None braver fought or fell. Their deeds are told on many a page; Their fame will never die; For Michigan did well her part And kept her standard high. And lonely women watched and prayed For the safe return of all Who marched away in their suits of blue To the fife’s shrill notes and the drum’s tattoo To answer their Country’s call. Watched and prayed, in their empty homes Bearing their burdens alone Waiting and hoping for they knew not what, ‘Till the dreadful strife was done. And many came not-for many sleep Under southern sun and dew, Where gentle zephyrs their requiems sing ‘Neath the bending skies of blue. So a feeling of sadness over me comes As I see before me today, The gallant remnant of the “Old Thirteenth,” Who marched so bravely away. Stern war’s grim visage first they met, On Shiloh’s bloody plain; “Baptized in fire” at Perryville, And many a hard campaign. Then at Stone...

The Volunteers

Take a green country lad who was raised on a farm, The first one you come to will do, Who, far from the city has missed all its harm And is innocent, honest and true, Who has followed in spring time the harrow and plow, In the summer has garnered the grain, Who has earned what he has by the sweat of his brow And is browned by the sun and the rain. Who esteems his own father and mother the best Of all parents who ever have been, And believes that his sweetheart in calico dressed Is the peer of an empress or queen ; Thinks Washington, Lincoln and Grant were the three Greatest heroes who lived in the world. And knows that the Star Spangled flag of the free Is the proudest flag ever unfurled. Let him hear that his country has called on its boys For its honor and fame to do battle; Let him see the flags flying and hear the sharp noise Of the fife, and the drum’s dizzy rattle And his cheek with the red flush of courage will glow And the heart in his bosom beat high, While the hero unborn will unconsciously show In his step-in the flash of his eye. For his forefathers fought for his altars and fires, And the echoes of Lexington’s guns He can hear, and the spirit bequeathed by the sires Will tell in the blood of his sons. Do you think he will hold himself out of the fight When foemen his country invade? That America’s sons will shrink back in affright When the nation...

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