HENRY R. JACKSON is a native of Savannah, Georgia, and was educated at the Franklin College, in Athens. He was several years one of the editors of the "Savannah Georgian," but on the invasion of Mexico, in 1846, joined the Georgia volunteers, as a colonel, and continued in the army until the close of the war. In 1849 he was elected by the legislature one of the judges of the Georgia eastern circuit, for four years, and in 1853 received the appointment of Minister Resident of
the United States at the court of Austria. Mr. JACKSON is the author of "Tallulah and other Poems," published in Savannah in 1850. In th volume are several pieces of uncommon meni. That entitled "My Father," and one addressed from the battle-field of Camargo, "To My Wife ine feeling, as others are by an enthusiastic affec and Child," are marked by simplicity and get tion for his native state, her scenery, traditions, and institutions.
As die the embers on the hearth,
And o'er the floor the shadows fall,
And creeps the chirping cricket forth,
And ticks the deathwatch in the wall,
I see a form in yonder chair,
That grows beneath the waning light;
There are the wan, sad features-there
The pallid brow, and locks of white!
My father! when they laid thee down,
And heap'd the clay upon thy breast,
And left thee sleeping all alone
Upon thy narrow couch of rest-
I know not why, I could not weep,
The soothing drops refused to roll-
And oh, that grief is wild and deep
Which settles tearless on the soul!
But when I saw thy vacant chair-
Thine idle hat upon the wall-
Thy book-the pencilled passage where
Thine eye had rested last of all—
The tree beneath whose friendly shade
Thy trembling feet had wandered forth—
The very prints those feet had made,
When last they feebly trod the earth-
And thought, while countless ages fled,
Thy vacant seat would vacant stand,
Unworn thy hat, thy book unread,
Effaced thy footsteps from the sand-
And widowed in this cheerless world,
The heart that gave its love to thee-
Torn, like a vine whose tendrils curled
More closely round the fallen tree!-
Oh, father! then for her and thee
Gushed madly forth the scorching tears;
And oft, and long, and bitterly,
Those tears have gush'd in later years; For as the world grows cold around,
And things take on their real hue, 'Tis sad to learn that love is found Alone above the stars, with you! 468
THE tattoo beats; the lights are gone;
The camp around in slumber lies;
The night with solemn pace moves on;
The shadows thicken o'er the skies;
But sleep my weary eyes hath flown,
And sad, uneasy thoughts arise.
I think of thee, oh, dearest one!
Whose love mine early life hath blest;
Of thee and him-our baby son-
Who slumbers on thy gentle breast:-
God of the tender, frail and lone,
Oh, guard that little sleeper's rest!
And hover, gently hover near
To her, whose watchful eye is wet-
The mother, wife-the doubly dear,
In whose young heart have freshly met
Two streams of love, so deep and clear-
And cheer her drooping spirit yet!
Now, as she kneels before thy throne,
Oh, teach her, Ruler of the skies!
That while by thy behest alone
Earth's mightiest powers fall or rise,
No tear is wept to thee unknown,
Nor hair is lost, nor sparrow dies;
That thou canst stay the ruthless hand
Of dark disease, and soothe its pain—
That only by thy stern command
The battle's lost, the soldier slain;
That from the distant sea or land
Thou bring'st the wanderer home again!
And when, upon her pillow lone,
Her tear-wet cheek is sadly pressed,
May happier visions beam upon
The brightening currents of her breast,—
Nor frowning look, nor angry tone
Disturb the sabbath of her rest!
Wherever fate those forms may throw,
Loved with a passion almost wild—
By day, by night-in joy or wo-
By fears oppressed, or hopes beguiled-
From every danger, every foe,
Oh, God! protect my wife and child!
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