Wild wandering, weep alone.

But if thou still must sing,

Sing of my endless woes,

Of Life, a poisoned spring,

Of Love, a scattered rose;

Wail-warble those who weep,

Wild-warble but the brave;

To the wearied, sing of sleep,

And sing, to me, the grave.

BURKE OF THE BRAVE BRIGADE.

Inscribed to Dennis F. Burke, last Commander of the Irish Brigade, at Gettysburg.

THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTH.

"Why come ye to this mountain, lads,

In panoply of war?

Why leave ye the hills of your native heath,

To seek these heights afar?"

BURKE OF THE BRAVE BRIGADE.

"We have come to unchain the slave,

And not for a dress parade;

We have come to save man's flesh from the lash,"

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