Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two. Various

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align="left"> But Jamie shook his yellow curls, And stoutly answered—"No!" "I'll drop you down the mountain-side, And there upon the stones The old gaunt wolf and carrion crow Shall battle for your bones." And in his brawny, strong right hand He lifted up the child, And held him where the clefted rocks Formed a chasm deep and wild So deep it was, the trees below Like stunted bushes seemed. Poor Jamie looked in frightened maze, It seemed some horrid dream. He looked up at the blue sky above Then at the men near by; Had they no little boys at home, That they could let him die? But no one spoke and no one stirred, Or lifted hand to save From such a fearful, frightful death, The little lad so brave. "It is woeful deep," he shuddering cried, "But oh! I canna tell, So drop me down then, if you will— It is nae so deep as hell!" A childish scream, a faint, dull sound, Oh! Jamie Douglas true, Long, long within that lonely cave Shall Tam Roy wait for you. Long for your welcome coming Waits the mother on the moor, And watches and calls, "Come, Jamie, lad," Through the half-open door. No more adown the rocky path You come with fearless tread, Or, on moor or mountain, take The good man's daily bread. But up in heaven the shining ones A wondrous story tell, Of a child snatched up from a rocky gulf That is nae so deep as hell. And there before the great white throne, Forever blessed and glad, His mother dear and old Tam Roy Shall meet their bonny lad.

The Ensign Bearer

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Never mind me, Uncle Jared, never mind my bleeding breast!

They are charging in the valley and you're needed with the rest.

All the day long from its dawning till you saw your kinsman fall,

You have answered fresh and fearless to our brave commander's call;

And I would not rob my country of your gallant aid to-night,

Though your presence and your pity stay my spirit in its flight.

All along that quivering column see the death steed trampling down

Men whose deeds this day are worthy of a kingdom and a crown.

Prithee hasten, Uncle Jared, what's the bullet in my breast

To that murderous storm of fire raining tortures on the rest?

See! the bayonets flash and falter—look! the foe begins to win;

See! oh, see our falling comrades! God! the ranks are closing in.

Hark! there's quickening in the distance and a thundering in the air,

Like the roaring of a lion just emerging from his lair.

There's a cloud of something yonder fast unrolling like a scroll—

Quick! oh, quick! if it be succor that can save the cause a soul!

Look! a thousand thirsty bayonets are flashing down the vale,

And a thousand thirsty riders dashing onward like a gale!

Raise me higher, Uncle Jared, place the ensign in my hand!

I am strong enough to float it while you cheer that flying band;

Louder! louder! shout for Freedom with prolonged and vigorous breath—

Shout for Liberty and Union, and the victory over death!—

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