From every valley and hill they come The clamoring voices of fife and drum; And out in the fresh, cool morning air The soldiers are swarming everywhere. Fall in! fall in! fall in! Every man in his place Fall in! fall in! fall in! Each with a cheerful face. Fall in! fall in! [Illustration] [Illustration] THE WHITE ROSE. BY JOSEPH O’CONNOR. It is a withered rose, That like a rose’s corpse, full dry and wan, Finds here its last repose, Its lustre dulled, its form and softness crushed, The tender life with which its petals flushed, And all its soul of subtle fragrance gone; A primal rose that bloomed Among the kindling brands, as white as frost, Where Zillah stood undoomed, Or from Mahomet’s forehead fluttered fair To earth, when Al Borak cleft through the air In flight to heaven, might leave so frail a ghost. The poet moralist Has ever taken sombre joy to sing Upon a theme so trist, And write in dust of roses lessons grim-- That pleasures must be snatched ere they grow dim, For germs of death in folds of beauty cling; That since the roses die, No mortal loveliness may long endure; No joy outlast a sigh; No passion’s thrill, no labor’s work remain Beyond a season; that Decay doth reign;-- Though in the tyrant’s very riot, sure, Some pledge of hope is found That all the universe is not a grave And life sits somewhere crowned. Not Tasso’s soft persuasion unto sin I find, dear rose, thy withered leaves within, Nor any precept Epicurus gave; To me thou dost not breathe A thought of festivals, or memory Of woven, wine-dipped wreath, Or kisses on ripe lips, or fond regret For bounds by time to fleeting pleasures set, Or wish to bring thy beauty back to thee. To kiss thy leaves I bend, And lo! The crash of cannon fills mine ears; I see the banners blend Into the battle smoke; and the long lines Of marching men where glint of bayonet shines Through clouds of dust; the hopes, the hates, the fears Of old thrill through my heart; Again the myriad ghosts of the great war From out their cerements start; Again the nation in the contest strains Its every nerve; again the deep refrains Of groan and cheer break on us from afar!