Poetry

Whilo the shout of trinmph for bloodshed, ia drowning the reason and the conscienee of the country, as well as the mournful notee of privale gritf, for sons, brothere, husbands and failiers, who have died in unassuaged agony. upon J firoign fielfi, the following linea of Chnrles Mackay, (we thinlt,) may reach some who are at a loss to knovvfor what ereat public or private advantage, the people have put on their garnents of r joiaing : A little girl stood at the doer. And wiih her kitten plavcd : Lessw.Jj and frolicsotne than she, That rosy, prattling maid. Suddenly her chnek turns ghosdy white, Her eyes wi th tcars are filled, And ru8hing in-of-doors, he screamed - " My broiher Willie's killed I" And thousand joyful voices cry, "IIuzz.il huzzi ! a Victory !" A mntlier aat in thnughttul easo, A knitting by the fire. She tore her few grny hairs. andshrivkcd " My joy on earth is done ! Oh. who will lay me in my grnve 1 ' Oh, God I tny son ! my son !" I And thousand joyful voieea cry, 1 "Huzza! huzza ! a Victory l " , A youthful wife thnthreshold crossed, With matronVtreasure biest ; ■ A 8tnilin? infant nestling lay 1 In slumber at herbreast. , She spoke no word, she heaved no sigh j The widow's tale to teil ; But like n corpse all white and stifl", Upoh the hearth floor feil, V And thousand joyful voices cry, C " Huzza ! huzzi ! a Victory !" n An old, weak man, with head of snotv. r And years ihree-score nnd ten, Looked in upos lus cabir home, '' And anguish scized him then. f( He helped not wife, nor helpless babe, ti Matron nor lililí maid, q One icaldmg tear. nne choliin sob Ho knelt him down, and piaye '. And thousind joyful voices cry. "Huzzn ! huzzn .' a Victory !" P -- TTMIM II I II