And Mamma, don't you _always_ know, God keeps his word?"

Around the young comforter stealthily press
The arms of his father with sudden caress;
Then fast to his heart,--love and duty at strife,--
He snatches with fondest emotion, his wife.

"My own love! my precious!--I feel I am strong;
I know I am brave in opposing the wrong;
I could stand where the battle was fiercest, nor feel
One quiver of nerve at the flash of the steel;
I could gaze on the enemy guiltless of fears,
But I quail at the sight of your passionate tears:
My calmness forsakes me,--my thoughts are a-whirl,
And the stout-hearted man is as weak as a girl.
I've been proud of your fortitude; never a trace
Of yielding, all day, could I read in your face;
But a look that was resolute, dauntless and high,
As ever flashed forth from a patriot's eye.
I know how you cling to me,--know that to part
Is tearing the tenderest cords of your heart:
Through the length and the breadth of our Valley to-day,
No hand will a costlier sacrifice lay
On the altar of Country; and Alice,--sweet wife!
I never have worshipped you so in my life!
Poor heart,--that has held up so brave in the past,--
Poor heart! must it break with its burden at last?"

The arms thrown about him, but tighten their hold,
The cheek that he kisses, is ashy and cold,