What mother, with long-watching eyes And white lips cold and dumb, Waits with appalling patience for Her darling boy to come? Her boy! whose mountain grave swells up But one of many a scar Cut on the face of our fair land By gory-handed war. What fights he fought, what wounds he wore, Are all unknown to fame; Remember, on his lonely grave There is not even a name! That he fought well and bravely too, And held his country dear, We know, else he had never been A Georgia Volunteer. He sleeps--what need to question now If he were wrong or right? He knows, e’er this, whose cause was just In God the Father’s sight. He wields no warlike weapons now, Returns no foeman’s thrust; Who but a coward would revile An honest soldier’s dust? Roll, Shenandoah, proudly roll Adown thy rocky glen; Above thee lies the grave of one Of Stonewall Jackson’s men. Beneath the cedar and the pine, In solitude austere, Unknown, unnamed, forgotten, lies A Georgia Volunteer. [Southern.] [Illustration] [Illustration] “HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY?” BY BRET HARTE. [There is nothing in the history of the Civil War worthier of celebration in verse, or more to be honored in the remembrance, than the organization and work of the United States Sanitary Commission. When the conditions created by the stress of the war became apparent, the compassion of kindly men and women in the North was deeply stirred by the thought that there was suffering among the soldiers which the government could not relieve, and that there were wants which could not be supplied by military agencies. The generous desire to minister to these wants and to relieve this suffering was quickly organized into action with that business-like sagacity which distinguishes the American character. The Sanitary Commission was formed as the agent and almoner of the popular generosity. It was supported entirely by voluntary contributions. It was as thoroughly organized as the army commissariat itself, and wherever there was a comfort needed, or a wounded or sick man to be cared for, its supply wagons, its appliances, and its trained nurses were found. The affectionate gratitude of the troops toward the beneficent association is reflected in this poem.--EDITOR.] [Illustration] [Illustration] “HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY?” Down the picket-guarded lane Rolled the comfort-laden wain, Cheered by shouts that shook the plain, Soldier-like and merry: Phrases such as camps may teach, Sabre-cuts of Saxon speech, Such as “Bully!” “Them’s the peach!” “Wade in, Sanitary!”