302 FROM A NEW ENGLAN D HILLSIDE. 



All present, or accounted for. But some 

 are scattered to the four winds about their 

 various missions, and some tarry under the 

 shadow of the eternal snows which lie upon 

 the massive flanks and upon the Aiguilles 

 of the Alps. And here and there, there are 

 fresh graves, and there are some which 

 though distant are often present to our 

 memory which are not fresh, but upon 

 which the grass grows thick and long, and 

 over which the eglantine strews its petals. 

 We look wistfully into the vast unknown, 

 if haply we may catch a glimpse of the 

 presence which we miss, and there remains 

 a touch of the old heartache, but we close 

 up the ranks, and feel more tenderly the ties 

 that bind us to those that are left. 



As through the land at eve we went, 



And pluck d the ripen d ears, 

 We fell out, my wife and I, 

 O, we fell out, I know not why, 



And kiss d again with tears. 

 For when we came where lies the child 



We lost in other years, 

 There above the little grave, 

 O, there ahove the little grave, 



We kiss d again with tears. 



My friend once told me: &quot;Old fellow, 

 you should not wear your heart upon your 



