The World Was Husht.

The world was husht, the moon above         Sailed thro' ether slowly,     When near the casement of my love,         Thus I whispered lowly,--     "Awake, awake, how canst thou sleep?         "The field I seek to-morrow     "Is one where man hath fame to reap,         "And woman gleans but sorrow."     "Let battle's field be what it may.         Thus spoke a voice replying,     "Think not thy love, while thou'rt away,         "Will sit here idly sighing.     "No--woman's soul, if not for fame,         "For love can brave all danger!     Then forth from out the casement came         A plumed and armed stranger.     A stranger? No; 'twas she, the maid,         Herself before me beaming,     With casque arrayed and falchion blade         Beneath her girdle gleaming!     Close side by side, in freedom's fight,         That blessed morning found us;     In Victory's light we stood ere night,         And Love the morrow crowned us!