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Page 45
"Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toils and of tears,
Toil without recompense,--tears all in vain,--
Take them, and give me my childhood again.
I have grown weary of dust and decay,
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away,
Weary of sowing for others to reap,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.
"Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you.
Two weary summers the grass has grown green,
Blossomed, and faded, our faces between;
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again;
Come from the silence so long and so deep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.
"Over my heart in days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other fondness abides and endures,
Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours.
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain;
Slumber's soft dews o'er my heavy lids creep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.
"Come, let your brown hair, lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it fall over my forehead to-night,
Shading my eyes from the moon's pallid light,
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Happily throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly its bright billows sweep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.
"Mother, dear mother, the years have been long,
Since last I was hushed by your lullaby song;
Sing then, and unto my soul it shall seem
That the years of my boyhood have been but a dream;
Clasp your lost son in a loving embrace,
Your love-lighted lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to part or to weep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep."
On the morning of June the third the sun rose beautifully over the
Cumberland Mountains, flooding the valley of the Sequatchie, as we
descended into it with lighter hearts than we had felt for many a
day. As we rode down the mountain, my companion recognized the
localities in the distance, and described the route which, in so
many miles, would bring us to his father's house. His side hurt him
severely that day, as the hardships of the way had given him a cold,
which threatened to inflame and reopen the wound he had received in
attempting to escape through the cavalry picket. He talked much of
home, and was sure his mother could cure him. Poor fellow! he was
already beyond his mother's help, though I did not then suspect it.
By nine o'clock we reached a farm-house, whose inmates, without
many troublesome inquiries, agreed to feed our half-starved horses
and give us some breakfast. My noble Selim sorely needed food and
grooming, and I could not but wish for a few days of rest for him.
He had been my companion in many a wild dash, and had learned to
respond to my patting of his finely-arched neck with a pricking up
of his ears and a toss of his head, as much as to say, "I am ready."
When first I formed Selim's acquaintance he was wild and
self-willed, and, as already related, gave me a blow upon the knee
from which I have not yet entirely recovered. But I had long ago
forgiven him this unkindness, for he had carried me through all that
terrible retreat from Nashville, had never failed me when a hard and
hazardous scout was on hand, had stood quietly at Corinth while I
lost two of his companions on the battle-field of Shiloh, and then,
as if grateful that I had saved him from their fate, he ever after
served me with entire docility. At Selma he bore me on many a
pleasant jaunt beside some fair one of that pleasant town, and now
he was with proud step bearing me toward my long-desired home. Did
he not deserve my special care?'
Everybody we met was Secession, and took for granted we were. Was I
not demonstrating my sentiments, by seceding from a government which
affirmed the right in its fundamental law?
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