[By one of her soldiers in hospital]
January 25, 1865. Vol. 1. No. 17. Page 1
Oh, New Hampshire! dear New Hampshire!
How my yearning bosom thrills,
When I mind your fertile valleys,
Level plains and swelling hills!
And in thinking of the waters
Of your waltzing Merrimack
How the tide of mem’ry surges
Onward, onward to its track!
Oh, New Hampshire! fair New Hampshire!
It may be I cannot roam
‘Mong your greening hills and valleys,
When the happy spring has come;
Haply I may never see thee,
Never please my wistful eyes
On the nameless, countless beauties,
Teeming in thy boundaries!
But New Hampshire! lov’d New Hampshire!
My poor heart is ‘mong your hills,
And it makes your name its burden,
Crying, ceaseless, like your rills!
If it may be seemly for me,
I would pray that, when I die,
My worn body might in quiet
On New Hampshire’s bosom lie!