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The song of the camp.
a Crimson accident — at Batard Taylor

The subjoined touchingly beautiful poem — for it is a poem in the fullest sense and meaning of the term — was written by Bayard Taylor while the fortress of Sebastopol was beleaguered by the allied armies. To a full understanding and appreciation of it, let it be remembered that ‘"Annie Laurie"’ is the song of the British camp, and wherever there is a British regiment — whether in Canada or India, England or China--whenever the simple Scotch air that accompanies

‘ M welton's banks are bonny,
When early falls the dew,
And twas there that Annie Laurie
Gave me her promise true--
Gave me her promise
And ne'er forget will I
But for boney Annie Laurie
I'll lay me down and die,

’ is struck up, the heart and voice of every soldier responds as promptly as would their hands if the order were given to charge the enemy:


The Incident.

‘ "Give us a song !" the soldiers cried,
The outer trine as guarding.
When the heated guns of the camps allied
Grew weary of bombarding.

The dark Redan in silent scoff
Lay g and threatening under;
And the tawny mound of the Malakoff
No longer because its rounder.

There was a e. The guards said:
"We storm the forts tomorrow;
Sing while we say, another day
Will bring enough of sorrow.

They lay along the battery's side,
Below the smoking cannon--
Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde,
And from the bank of Shannon.

They sang of love, and not of fame;
Forgot was Britain's glory--
Each different name,
But a all sang "Annie Laurie"

Voice after voice caught up the song,
Until its reader passion
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong--
Their battle eve confession.

D her name he dared not speak,
Y as he song g
Something upon the soldier's creek
Washed off the n of powder.

Beyond the darkened ocean burned
The bloody sunset mbe
While the nean valleys learned
How English love remembers.

And once again a fire of hill
Rained on the Ru quarters,
With se a of shot and burst of shell,
And bellowing of the mortars.

And Irish Noah's eyes are dim
For a singer dumb and g y;
And English Mary mourns for him
Who sang of "Annie Laurie"

Ah soldiers to your honored rest
Your truth and va or pearing;
The ravest are the tenderest--
The loving are the daring

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