“how many pounds does the baby weigh—
Baby who came but a month ago?
How many pounds from the crowning curl
To the rosy point of the restless toe?”
Grandfather ties the ’kerchief knot,
Tenderly guides the swinging weight,
And carefully over his glasses peers
To read the record, “Only eight.”
Softly the echo goes around...
“all quiet along the Potomac,” they say,
“Except now and then a stray picket
Is shot, as he walks on his beat, to and fro,
By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
’T is nothing: a private or two, now and then,
Will not count in the news of the battle;
Not an officer lost,—only one of the men,
Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle.”...
