main body of men constituting the Army of the Tennessee. The same good fortune permits me to renew the association to-night.
I hope the meeting you are now having will be a pleasant and profitable one to you all, and that you may live, all of you, to meet for many years again in these annual reunions. [Loud applause.]
POEM BY BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN TILSON.
Glance back ten years.
Presages coming victory.
O'er river, plain, and mountain crag
Advancing moves the nation's flag-
Borne by the soldiers of the West-
The band upon whose conquering crest
The hopes of Freedom's Union rest.
Its first allotted task is done;
Its pathway glows with glories won.
Vicksburg's harsh gates have opened wide,
Free flows the Mississippi's tide;
Along his banks the war seems crushed,
The discord notes of strife are hushed,
And eastward wheel, fresh foes to meet,
The braves who never knew defeat,
To on the Georgian plains repeat
The proven skill,
That smiling victory stooped to greet
On Corinth's walls, at Tiptonville,
At Donelson and Champion Hill.
In checkless might and majesty
They sweep along,
Where winds the shining Tennessee,
And soon they greet with clasped hands
The Chattanooga's prisoned bands
The sturdy braves of Rosecrans
Still in his lair the lion lies,
Watching his foe with flaming eyes;
Gathering strength within his den
Until the ready moment, when
At once with sweeping spring and roar
He stalks the field a conqueror o'er.
So, bursting from the " Eagle's Nest,"
The blended armies of the West,
Right on to ringing vict'ries pressed.
Grim Lookout greets our flag unfurled;
Off Mission Ridge the foe is hurled,
From Knoxville is his grasp released,
And onward still, with strength increased,
Resistless rolls the tide of war;
Dashing along steep Rocky Face,
Adown Resaca's foughten trace,
Around Lost Mountain's wooded glace,
On through Allatoona's frowning pass,
O'er Marietta's trampled grass,
Flinging its spray o'er Kenesaw.
It leaps dull Chattahoochee's bed;
Through Peach Tree pour its torrents red;
Decatur falls-a darkened prize-
For Triumph views with streaming eyes
The field whereon McPherson lies.
Around Atlanta's ramparts steep
The restless, raging surges sweep;
'Tis ours-the Southern Key is won,
And still the boys "go marching on."
Broken fly the clouds of care,
Brightened lustre fills the air,
Answered, seemeth Freedom's prayer;
And radiant Hope, in rapture bent,
With roseate cheeks and eyes attent,
Points to the sky, with triumph all aflame,
And beckons Peace her home again to claim.
When lo! there wakes a startling thrill,
And cheeks turn pale and hearts stand still,
Men look at men in wild surprise,
With anxious quest and wond'ring eyes,
The restless rush of business stops,
The pen the scholar's finger drops;
The woodman's axe unheeded lies;
Hushed is the rattling fact'ry din;
Stands still the plow the furrow in;
There seems an instant darkened day,
A curtain fall in middle play
As part of Earth had dropt away;
When, speeding on the lightning's wing,
Throughout the land the tidings ring
That Sherman and his men have gone.
Whither, for what? could answer none.
Have they gone, as glides the bird of night,
Into limitless gloom,
Left nor token, nor trace of its flight,
Whither its path might plume?
Vainly looked after, days upon days,
With weary, anxious, straining gaze,
Wondering where it devious strays?
Enfeebled, to come after the lapse
Of lengthened years; or never perhaps?
Or gone like the mighty Genoese,
Dashing his prow into unsailed seas,
Unheeding their haughty roll;
Scorning detraction's puerile jeers,
Flinging aside all foreboding fears,
Upborne by a hero soul.
Returned at last in triumph and pride,
Bearing across the Atlantic tide
The peerless prize of a new found world.
And a flag of fadeless fame unfurled.
Gone! and a world of hope and prayer,
Away those venturous soldiers bear.
In almost every home in the West
Trembling love from the anxious breast
Of parent, sister, child, or wife,
Some heart, tied to another's life,
Went out with that brave array.
And o'er the land this great thought lay,
Heavier growing day on day,
Last said at eve, first said at morn,
"Whither has Sherman's army gone?"
The parents old, whose whitened hair
A story tells of lengthened care;
The mother good, the honored sire,
Sitting beside the evening fire,
Look to the lonely corner, where
Still stands the boy's now vacant chair,
Or glance above the chimney place,
Where hangs their darling soldier's face,
Or see that cap still on the wall,
Left at his last brief furlough call;
Then widely stray their fancies sad,
Wandering after their missing lad,
And as the knee in reverence bends
The heartfelt, nightly prayer ascends
That God would watch o'er Sherman's men,
And bring the boy safe home again.
Thus everywhere, mused or aloud,
Whispered at home, discussed in crowd,
In humble hut, in mansion proud,
Spread, like a mantle over all,
Cold apprehension's gloomy pall;
Inwrought from rumor's varied thread
A blended woof of hope and dread.
Think too, how rested an anxious weight
In a chieftain's tent, a place of state,
On those who carried the nation's fate;
On him who, with calm, determined thought,
O'erlooking the field with perils fraught,
Struck straight for results, and fearing naught,
Unfaltering, on his one "line" fought.
And him on whose mild, benignant face,
Now haloed with a martyred grace,—
A sorrowing peoples' cares we trace.
Whose life was lined to the noblest call
That ever from statesman's lips did fall-
"Malice to none, charity to all."
That soldier stern, and that statesman true,
Who alone the daring purpose knew;
Who alike their ordained missions trod,
And with faith unswerving, under God,
The ship of State carried safely through.
From the grim walls of Fort Monroe
A coming ship is seen;
Bright red her fiery breathings glow
Across the billows green.
Swift on she speeds; bearing the while,
White on her prow a seeming smile.
Roars from her ports the cannon note,
Gay streamers from the mastheads float.
Auspicious news to tell.
She lands-tic-tic-on lightning steeds
The glorious story world-wide speeds
Ring out rejoicing bell;
Let freemen's bosoms swell;
As craz'd almost with glad surprise,
With meeting hands, and moistened eyes,
And shouts that mount up to the skies,—
The earth with tenfold sunshine spread-
Over again the news is read;
Over again the word is said,
The darkling days of doubt have fled.
Swept aside is the mystery,
Sherman is safe-has reached the sea.
Oh that wonderful march to the sea!
Oh that romantic march to the sea!
Draped even yet in wild mystery.
Plunging as into a distant night,
Instantly shrouded from sound and sight,
Onward advances that fearless band,
Environed by foes on either hand;
Never a thought of its danger recked;
Never a day was its progress checked;
Onward in sunshine, onward through gales,
Leaping the mountains, sweeping the vales,
Resembling, gliding along its path
And breathing around consuming wrath,
A long blue serpent with shining scales,
As now and then the rays of the sun
Fitfully flash on the burnished gun,
Onward the measureless columns sweep;
Dashing up over the hill-side steep;
Splashing along through morasses deep;
Crushing aside the troublesome vines,
Brushing on 'neath the murmuring pines;
Or, shaded by the century trees,
Stumbling and tumbling o'er cypress knees,
Onward, still onward, on to the seas.
Oh that wonderful march to the sea!
Oh that venturesome march to the sea!
Crowned with continual victory.
The column from the camp unwinds;
It mounts the summit hill,
Before it broad the river shines
In placid beauty still.
But other scenes attention claim
Before which nature's beauties tame;
As sights significant appear,
And sounds fall on the practiced ear
That well the soldier knows.
Along the bank there waiting lay
Half hidden lines of dingy gray
Through which our men must cleave their way;
And yet beyond, a dense array
Of sullen, stubborn foes.
Halted, the silent soldiers wait
With eager look and thoughts elate;
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