And that banner, it is trailing,
While around it sounds the wailing
Of its people in their woe.

V.

For, though conquered, they adore it, -
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it;

Weep for those who fell before it:
Pardon those who trail and tore it:
Oh, how wildly they deplore it,
Now to furl and fold it so!

VI.

Furl that banner! True, 't is gory;
But 't is wreathed around with glory,
And 't will live in song and story,
Though its folds are in the dust;
For its fame on brightest pages,
Penned by poets and by sages,
Shall go sounding down the ages:
Furl its folds, for now we must.

VII.

Furl that banner softly, slowly;
Furl it gently, - it is holy,
For it droops above the dead :
Touch it not, unfurl it never,
Let it droop there, furled forever,
For its people's hopes are fled.

New York Freeman's Journal.

INDEX OF AUTHORS.

ALDRICH, T. В., 166.

ANONYMOUS, 2, 17, 27, 30, 43, 52, 55, 58, 65, 66, 69, 81, 91, 108,

115, 119, 127, 132, 138, 153, 157, 158, 160, 167, 169, 176, 177,
179, 180, 183, 193, 198, 204, 207, 208, 211, 217, 218, 220, 222,
225, 228, 254, 255, 257, 258, 265, 265, 270, 274, 282, 296, 297,
299, 304, 306, 308, 314, 315, 319, 320, 321, 325.

ANDHISON, ALFRED, 262.

BARNEY, 93.

BEDLOW, H., 194.

BETHUNE, REV. G. W., 4.

BOKER, GEORGE H., 33, 84, 114, 161, 209, 210, 214.

BOLTON, SARAH T., 149.

BRADBURY, WILLIAM B., 90.

BROWNELL, H. H., 79, 96, 98, 121, 232

BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN, 11, 268.

BURLEIGH, GEORGE S., 128.

BUTLER, CLARENCE, 7.

CAREY, ALICE, 273.

CAROLINE, 289.

CASTEN, J. CROSS, 215.

CHILD, F. J., 76.

CUTLER, E. JEFFERSON, 97.

DE FOREST, J. W., 151.

DE G., 301.

DUGANNE, A. J. H., 125.

EMERSON, RALPH WALDO, 139.
E PLURIBUS UNUM, 174.

INDEX OF AUTHORS.

329

SIGMA, 62.

SOLDIER, 261.

STEDMAN, EDMUND C., 134, 142, 185, 267.

STODDART, RICHARD HENRY, 275.

TAYLOR, BAYARD, 249.

TICKNOR, FRANK, 312.

WALLACE, WILLIAM Ross, 13.

WEBB, С. Н., 23.

WHITNEY, MRS., 192.

WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF, 53, 60, 130, 146, 171.

WINTER, WILLIAM, 253.

WOODMAN, HORATIO, 5.

W. F. W., 136.

A. M. W., 259.

R. G. W., 57, 75.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

Ah me! I've had enough of thee...

All blessings walk with onward feet.

All day long the storm of battle through the startled valley

swept...

All quiet along the Potomac they say
An end at last! The echoes of the war.

As Moses stood upon the flaming hill.
As vonce I valked by a dismal svamp.
At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay.
At Nashville's fall....

Awake and to horse, my brothers..
Ay, deem us proud! for we are more.

Back from the trebly crimson field....
Beneath the vast and vaulted dome.

PAGE

138

128

228

119

268

214

79

83

193

315

64

134

274

Behold her now with restless flashing eyes.

282

Blood, blood! the lines of every printed sheet.
By the blue Patapsco's billowy dash

209

318

Come, stack arms, men. Pile on the rails

Down in a small Palmetto State the curious ones may find... 17

Do you know of the dreary land...

98

Eighteen hundred and sixty-two..

136

Farewell! we must part; we have turned from the land...... 289