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THE BAND IN THE PINES. By John Esten Cooke.
O band in the pine wood, cease 1
Cease with your splendid call! The living are brave and noble,
But the dead were bravest of all!
They throng1 in the martial summons,
The loud, triumphant strain; And the dear, bright eyes of long-dead friends,
Come to the heart again.
They come with the ringing bugle And the deep drum's mellow roaró
And the soul is faint with longing For the hands we clasp no more!
O band in the pine wood, cease!
Or the heart will melt in tears, For the gallant eyes and the smiling lips,
And the voices of old years!
Southern Illustrated News.