Sunday, March 25, 2012

Union Poems 1863-1864

Have not discovered many knitting/sock -soldier poems in 1863-64. 
The Sanitary Reporter, by the United States Sanitary Commission, Vol. 1-2, 1863

At the Aid Society
Fold them up, they are warm and soft
As the delicate knitter’s heart and hand-
A pair of soft, blue woolen socks,
And love knit in with every strand.

More than this-there are dreams and prayers
Wove in like a mystic, golden thread—
Dreams that may stir a solder’s heart,
And prayers to bless a dying head.

It is not vain, it is not vain,
For love is blest, and prayer is strong,
To move the Arm that surely guides
The breasts that stem the tide of wrong.

And those who praying still believe,
Shall know the strength of human will,
They dream prophetic histories,
And through their faith their hopes fulfill.
M.R. B.

Leaves from the battlefield of Gettysburg: a series of letters from a field hospital; and national poems, 1864
By Emily Bliss Thacher Souder, Mrs. Edmund A. Souder

Knitting for the Army.
Inscribed to a lady of Christ Church.

All honor to the noble dame,
Of fourscore years and seven;
To loyal heart and willing hand,
Let honor due be given.
While youth and health the needles ply,
And knit the livelong day,
We look with loving pride on her
Who soon must pass away,
Yet wearies not, in hour of need,
When faithful sons for country bleed,
To guard their feet from winter’s cold,
Thus comforting the soldier bold.
Six pairs of hose, her busy hands
Have hastened to prepare;
A happy soldier must he be,
Whose feet these good socks wear.
The colors of our country’s flag
They also bring to view,
And heart and eye alike are cheered
With the red, white and blue;
So soft and warm and smoothly knit,
A soldier’s foot they well will fit;
Grateful must prove the favored one,
When told whose hands the works has done.

Another charm the soft wool holds,--
Let me the secret tell:
Three times, the loyal thirty-four
Within the circle dwell.
A stitch for every silver star—
Woe to the hand that seeks to mar
The flag that floats o’er land and sea,
Emblem, my country dear, of thee!
Withered the arm of every foe
That aims at thee a deadly blow;
Palsied the traitor’s serpent tongue,
Poisoning the fountain whence he sprung!

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