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قراءة كتاب An Old Man's Prayer
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 5
with traitorous smoke;
When brave men sprang with willing hearts
To their Country’s flag to repel the darts
Which treason had hurled with malice wild
At the life of the mother, so good and mild,—
My boy stepped down from the preacher’s stand,
And started forth, with life in hand,
To sell it dear, but to battle strong
With the loyal North against fearful wrong.
I know that he carries a magic spell
’Gainst the curse of our race to guard him well;
And I know, should he fall, his death will be
In the foremost ranks of loyalty.
And now, young men, an old man’s prayer:—
Leave the bright wine in your glasses there;
Shun its allurements; for in its deep red
Is the blood of its victims dying and dead.
Fill up your glasses, and pledge your friend
In the crystal stream that Heaven doth send.”
With a lowly bow, and the same meek air,
He has passed the door, and adown the stair;
While those he has left to their leader turn
With downcast eyes, and cheeks that burn.
Silent he stands as his glass he takes,
When the guest of the evening the silence breaks.
“Friends of my boyhood, the old man’s prayer
Shall meet a response in the heart I wear.
I come to-night from a mother’s side:
She watches my life with a parent’s pride;
And I know ’tis the dearest wish of her heart,
In camp and in battle to keep me apart
From sin and temptation; unceasing will pray
Heaven’s blessing to guard on my perilous way.
And this pledge will I leave her,—never again
My lips with the wine-cup’s poison to stain.
So, friends, let’s drink to our meeting again:
My drink is the water, free from all stain.”
He stood with his upraised glass, and the light
Full on his fair young brow beamed bright,—
That brow which an anxious mother would kiss
With a pure, deep feeling of heartfelt bliss;
And along the line of his comrades young,
To honor his toast, each hand upsprung:
In not one glass did the red wine gleam;
But all were filled from the crystal stream.
On the morrow, adown the street,
With trumpet’s blast and war-drum’s beat,
Firm and erect, with martial tread,
The flag of their Country overhead,
With brave, stout