A babe—a waif with tawny tangled locks, And great blue eyes with wonder brimming o'er; Of all the human freight wrecked on the rocks, The only living thing that washed ashore. 

A pearl-gemmed golden case upon its breast She oped, then stared, her eyes a-sudden wild, A name, a pictured face told all the rest; His name—his face—his child! 

 

     UNCLE SAM'S SOLILOQUY. 

I'm a century old and more to-day—   A ripe old age for a modern man,— Yet they who rocked my cradle, they say, Predicted a thousand years my span; They christened me at the fount of prayer, And gave me a star-gemmed robe to wear. 

My first free breath was battle-smoke A prayerful nurses did not abhor The sounds that first my ear awoke—   The clash and din and shout of war. They pressed in my hand a crown of might And pointed my way to the eagle's flight. 

Cannon and sword were my playthings to bless,   (Dangerous toys for a babe to try,) The stirring reveille my more caress, The wild tattoo was my lullaby; And well, methinks, as they years have run, Have I wrought the work my sires begun. 

An infant prodigy I, and ere Expired a tenth of my granted day, I wrested from lion-grasp the spear—   A nation's power I held in sway; I broke the gives from freedom's graves, And steam and lightning I bound my slaves. 

I flung my starred robe on the breeze, From burning tropic to arctic cold. On distant isles, in distant seas, A foot-hold gained with sword and gold. Atlantic's slope and Pacific's strand I bound together with an iron band. 

But of late I've premature grown old; There's something wrong with the clothes I wear; There is something wrong with the helm I hold, Else I hold it wrong,—there's wrong somewhere. Disease too has thrown me his poisoned dart; His workman are "striking" right at my heart. 

My head is so strangely vision thrilled With plans to evade the demon's stay, But all the plots that my brain have filled Only have served to augment his sway, And on my feet, at the sunset's door, Is spreading a troublesome grievous sore. 

I'm growing ill I can plainly see, And many prescribe my pain to ease, But somehow each medicine proves to be   "A remedy worse than the disease." Though strong as ever, should once my strength Give way, I must fall a fearful length. 

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