Some songs and verses . oo. Drink, drink—Heres to Life, heres to Death, and the last sobbing breath; Fill it up, drain your the last word is spoken, the bubble is broken; Drink, drink and sleep. 21 m GOOD-BYE. OLD HOUSE LD house, dear house! whose sheltering arms so longHave held us through the summers safe from harm;Whose echoes answering back our jest, andsong,Have joined our hearts to yours; youve kept us warmWhen wintry tempests swept the lowering , old house, good-bye! Youve heard our merry shouts at Christmas-tide;Youve seen our joyous hours of childish mirth;Youve fe
Some songs and verses . oo. Drink, drink—Heres to Life, heres to Death, and the last sobbing breath; Fill it up, drain your the last word is spoken, the bubble is broken; Drink, drink and sleep. 21 m GOOD-BYE. OLD HOUSE LD house, dear house! whose sheltering arms so longHave held us through the summers safe from harm;Whose echoes answering back our jest, andsong,Have joined our hearts to yours; youve kept us warmWhen wintry tempests swept the lowering , old house, good-bye! Youve heard our merry shouts at Christmas-tide;Youve seen our joyous hours of childish mirth;Youve felt our tears that fell for one who died;And in the night, beside the lonely hearth,Ive heard your staunch old timbers sob and , old house, good-bye! When apple blossoms fell about your earth was sunshine, and our lives were May,When all the birds of June sang through the did not dream to wander far more my step shall wake your welcoming cry,—Good-bye, old house, good-bye! 22. THE BATTLE HERE was rumor of warfare and battle, There were stories of triumph and fame,There was music and waving of banners, And thoughts of a glorious longed for the musketrys shrill-calling, pulse-quickening fife, That makes the blood heat to the passionate beatOf the drums calling on to the strife. And the frenzy of youth for the conflict Was a rapture that tore me like pain,And the passion that leads men to conquest Was running aflame in each vein;I heard all the pulses of being, Like voices that called me to bringMy strength to the strife; to the battle of Life,— And power, where Glory is King. But now that the battle is over. The titles and shoulder-straps wonBy those who march homeward in triumph With banners that gleam in the sun, 23 24 TheBetttle Where—where are the real Victors? The Heroes who could not yield?With glassy eyes upturned to the skies They lie where they fell on the field. Ah! Where breathes the peace of the meadow
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