49. Larry's return from the war.
by will S. Hays.
The black clouds were angrily chasing each other;The cold winter winds howling carelessly by
The cottage where sat Kitty Gray and her mother--
Poor Kitty looked sad, with a tear in her eye.
She thought of her lover, with whom she had parted--
Who had gone to the wars — it was Larry O'More.
Oh! hark! she heard footsteps, and suddenly started--
Then smiled, as she leaped, like a fawn, to the door.
And, lo! there stood Larry, as fresh and as cosy
As when he left Kitty's bewitching young charms;
Whose eyes were so bright, and whose cheeks were so rosy--
“Arrah! Kitty,” said Larry, “love, come to me arms.”
“O Larry! you're safe!” “Yes, thrue for ye, darlina;
I've been in the battles, whin the balance wor kilt,
An‘ the ribils, like haythens, come fightina an' snarlina--
Arrah! Kitty, no knowina the blood that was spilt.”
“Come, Larry, sit down;” “Faith, I will, an' close near you--
For lonesome I've been, for many months past;
I often have wished — d'ye mind?” “Yes, I hear you.”
“That ivery big fight that we had was the last.”
“And have you been wounded?” “Ah! no; I wor lucky.
The boys fought like divils, an' died in a hape;
An‘ since our last march, as we wint through Kintucky,
How many brave fellows have laid down to slape!”
“No longer a sojer, dear Kitty, I'll tarry--
Faith, while I wor one, to the cause I wor thrue;
An‘ now I've come home, love, a swate girl to marry.”
“Pray, Larry, who is she?” “Arrah! Kitty, 'tis you!
I've got me discharge, an' through life's wintry weather
We'll make the path aisy, as aisy can be.”
“Me heart's in me hand.” “I'll take them together.”
“Presint arms, then, darlint!” “I will, love,” says she.
“Ah! Larry, I'm glad — are you tired of fightina?”
And sweet Kitty smiled — looked him full in the eyes.
“Oh! no, Kitty, dear, for I took a delight in
Performina me dooty, wherever it lies;
May me hand lave me body, whin I pull the thrigger
In battle again.” “Why, Larry?” “Because
The goddess of Liberty's turned to a nigger,
An‘ ould Father Abram's forgotten the laws!”
Hermitage, January 8, 1863.
--Louisville Sunday Democrat.
