Maggie Peer

Maggie Peer.
154.3

The bird of peace has spread ber wings
Again in our glorious sky.
But plaintive and sad is the song she sings,
So sad that many a sigh it brings,
And tears to many an eye.

She has gained the prize, hut at fearful cost.
For she misses the true and brave;
She mourns for the loved forever lost-
For the war-worn feet that forever crossed
The portal of the grave..

When first rebellion uttered the cry
Of treason to the North.
With ready foot and kindling eye
How many, bound to do or die.
Rushed wildly, blindly forth

Fair Maggie Peer was young and true.
And loved her country wes
But oh, ’twas hard to say. “Adieu!”
To him who wore the coat of blue,
Her noble Harry Bell.

They had pledged their love bright years before
And time’s unvarying tide
Was nearing the day when Harry no more ☐☐☐
Should tread alone life’s pathway o’er,
But with Maggie, his beautiful bride,

They had pledged their love in an early day,
When their hearts were fresh and warm,
When they little thought of a deadly fray,
Of battle hosts in bright array,
Or the cannon’s thundering roar.

But often the sunniest smiles between-
A shadow, o’erclouding his eyes soft sheen
Would dreamily settle there.

A year wore on, and the noble form
Of Captain Harry Bell
Was foremost seen in the leaden storm,
Mid the burning shot and shell,
But the maiden’s prayer in her distant home
Semed heard and answered well.

But over the glories of field and plala.
O’er the hush of the quiet camp
A wild malaria swept amain,
And with fevered cheek and frantic brain,
And forehead cold and daimp
Poor Captain Harry Bell was borne
Away to the hospital,
And the locks from his pallid brow were shorn,
For his frenzied fingers had wildly tora
At the clustering tresses all.

The shadows of midnight, cool and kind,
Like a calm to the weary fell
When reason stole back to the wandering mind
Of suffering Harry Bell.
But he only awoke to know that death
Was nearing with phantom bark.
And he felt on his forehead his ley breath,
And ‘neath him the waters dark.

But early in life his peace was made.
And his heart was stayed on him
Who stoops from heaven when earth scenes fade
And mortal eyes grow dim;
So he whispered a prayer for the loved at home,
For the walling, widowed bride,
But stretched his arms, for death had come
And passed o’er the silent tide.

In her Northern home, poor Maggle Peer
No message of dead had heard,
But over his silence shed many a tear,
And sickened with “hope deferred.”
But the word had come to the kind old sire.
That Harry was lying low.
And the telegraph’s electric fire
Confirmed the tale of wee.

But the father forbore to tell his child.
And assumed a cheerful part,
But the laugh was gone that his home beguiled
And her troubled eye made his pulses wild,
And her sighs rent his anxious heart.

“I will speed,” he said, “to the town away.
And learn be it better or worse.”
And as to the village his steps did stray
He saw the approaching heurae.

At the depot & panting train did halt,
And a commn was lowered slow.
And sad with sorrow each face was fralighe
But on sped the train as if it had not brought
Such a weight of nortal woe.

Of the coftined form I need not tell
Of the Jark and death draped bier
Of the doleful dirge of the funeral kneli,
Of the grave where sleeps young Harry Bell,
And of weeping Muggle Peer.

But the burial scene was wild with grief,
And the gathering crowd was vast.
And sympathy proffered a vain roller.
As a pale young malden-the mourner chief-
Swooned over the dead like an autumn leat
Just shaken by winter’s blast.

And a hundred hands were stretched to raise
The seemingly lifeless form.
And a hundred hearts went up in praise
When the dear old light of former days
Came flickering back with its friendly raya
To the eyes so soft and warm.

Three years have rolled to past since then.
And still she is Maggle Peer,
But they tell me a change is coming
When the summer days draw near,
And I know it is so for I am the friend:
Young Harry assigned to keep
His pledge of love which she should send
To me when no more for that early friend
Her joy ilt eyes should weep.

And the pledges have come: the tress of hair.
The ring with its diamond true,
The cold kid gloves as pale and fair-
The larger and the smaller pair.
Which never a mortal hand shall wear,
Nor an earthly eye shall view.

She has pledged again her heart and hand
To another true and brave,
And soon together they’ll pass the strand
Of wedlock’s golden wave.
And her eye will scan, like a far off land,
That long and lonely grave.

And I think as I gaze on each snowy glove
Of the hands that were whiter than they-
The hands that are clasped no more in love,
But are locked a dreamless breast above.
‘Neath the cold and silent clay,
And the slken tress of raven hair
That my fingers twine about.
Recalls my thoughts to the forehead fair,
And the cold damp locks that coiled there.
And the diamond doth deathless love declare

Though the light of his eye went out,
And I am to stand by Muggle’s side,
When the man of God shall clasp
The little hand of the blushing bride
In a steadler, stronger grasp.
And I will not question her happy eye,
Though pang iny heart should swell-
But all unnoticed I’ll heave a sigh,
And I’ll drop a tear to the memory
Of forgotten Harry Bell.