19th Century Steinbeck Family Papers

Hollister April 23, 1918

Dear Ernest,

Another year has gone and left behind its record.

I am happy to congratulate you and wish for you in the coming year many blessings and pleasure.

Today with the country in a terrible war and the many sad lonely mothers seems to take me back to that unhappy time when alone with only a

Ernest

[Written for the Chronicle.]

Home-coming.

A Ballad of the War

ByC.F. Orne

He stood at last in his sheltered home, His wandering feet were at rest. He held his wife and his smiling babe, And his boys to his throbbing breast.

They clasped him close in their loving arms, And smiled while the tears rained down— That tender wife, and those manly boys, While the babe looked wondering on.

The war had driven them back to the North, To her father's old time home, And long had they waited and watched in vain, And wearied for him to come.

For the wife was born where the New England hills Engirdle the valleys free, But her husband's fatherland beloved Was in ancient Germany.

They had left him in Florida strong and well, Handsome, and brave, and bold, With a broad white brow and a heavy beard In golden waves that flowed.

[illegible - paper folded over text] And his cheek with a ruddy glow, — Now he was wasted, and wan and weak, And the fire of his life burned low.

"Tell us all about it," said blue-eyed Karl As he stood by his father's knee; "Long, long have we waited and watched for you, In this North-land fair and free

Not now of the German father-land, Nor the castled banks of the Rhine, Nor the far-away home where I was born In the mountains of Palestine.

Nor now of Florida's Orange groves, And the home where Willie came, Ere our brief bright days in that clime Went out in war's fierce flame.

But only, dear father, tells us to-day, Where so long, and long you've been; And why is your beard so tangled and rough? Why your cheeks so pale and thin?

He drew the boy in his loving arms, And the smiling babe to his breast, And the slender hand of his fair young wife In his own was tenderly prest.

"Ah, dear ones," he said, "I'm hunger-pinched, And spent with the toilsome way; But thanks be to God, who has brought me at last, To the light of this blessed day!

Thanks be to God that I find you again, Dear wife, and my children four; Karl, and Ernest, and Herbert, and Will— I feared we should meet [nevermore].

They forced me into the rebel ranks To swell their numbers in fight; They could not compel my hand to strike One blow against the right.

Perish that hand ere it fired a shot, Or drew from its sheath the blade, In a cause that humanity's highest hope To ruin and death betrayed.

They were fighting to rivet the heavy chain 'Round the neck of the helpless slave; They were fighting to bury the souls of men In a deep and hopeless grave.

I waited and watched til the moment came— I knew it must come at last, The guard was careless, the night was dark, The river was safely past.

But I was a stranger within the land, And trode it in want and pain, The road to our northern home was long, Through forest, o'er mount and plain.

There were those who aided me as I went, And grieved they could do no more; Their deeds were kindly, their words good cheer— They parted their slender store.

I hid by day in the thickets and swamps, And walked the long night through; And I tore from my limbs the rebel gray, [illegible - paper folded] me the Union blue.

Fainting and foot-sore I [illegible - paper folded] In the street of a busy place Where the thronging people hurrying past Hardly glanced at my form or face.

But there came to my side a little child With loving eyes, fearless and free' "Poor soldier," she said, "you are hungry and tired, Come home to my house with me."

In her small warm fingers she took my hand, And led me as tenderly As a mother would lead a tottling babe That hardly has left her knee.

"I have brought a poor soldier home," she [said] As gently she forward prest, "I know you would be so glad, mamma, To have him come here and rest."

The mother gave me her pitying glance— Believe me dear wife of mine, I never shall see a sweet face, Save the angel faces and thine!

They kept me, they tended me carefully, 'Till I came on my way again." "God bless them, forever!" cried little Karl— Said his father and mother, "Amen."