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Under the roses, the Blue,

Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor,

The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all :
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue,

Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,

On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain:
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue,

Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,

The generous deed was done,
In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won:
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue,

Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war cry sever,

Or the winding rivers be red;

They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;
Love and tears for the Blue,

Tears and love for the Gray.



Land of the South, whose stricken heart and brow

Bring grief to eyes that erewhile only knew For their own loss to sorrow,--spurn not thou

These tribute tears,-ah, we have suffered too. New Orleans, 1885.


The Blue and the Gray


A waste of land, a sodden plain,

A lurid sunset sky,
With clouds that fled and faded fast

In ghastly phantasy;

A field upturned by trampling feet,

A field up-piled with slain,
With horse and rider blent in death

Upon the battle-plain.

Two soldiers, lying as they fell

Upon the reddened clay,
In daytime, foes; at night, in peace,

Breathing their lives away.
Brave hearts had stirred each manly breast;

Fate only made them foes; And lying, dying, side by side,

A softened feeling rose.

Our time is short,” one faint voice said.

To-day we've done our best
On different sides. What matters now?

To-morrow we're at rest.
Life lies behind. I might not care

For only my own sake;
But far away are other hearts

That this day's work will break.

Among New Hampshire's snowy hills

There pray for me, to-night,
A woman, and a little girl,

With hair like golden light.”
And at the thought broke forth, at last

The cry of anguish wild
That would no longer be repressed-

“O God! my wife and child !”

And," said the other dying man,

Across the Georgia plain
There watch and wait for me loved ones

I'll never see again.
A little girl with dark bright eyes

Each day waits at the door;
The father's step, the father's kiss,

Will never meet her more.

To-day we sought each other's lives;

Death levels all that now,
For soon before God's mercy-seat

Together shall we bow.
Forgive each other while we may;

Life's but a weary game;
And right or wrong, the morning sun

Will find us dead the same.”

The dying lips the pardon breathe,

The dying hands entwine; The last ray dies, and over all

The stars from heaven shine; And the little girl with golden hair,

And one with dark eyes bright, On Hampshire's hills and Georgia plain,

Were fatherless that night.



From an Address by General John B. Gordon, Gov

ernor of Georgia, July 3, 1888

Of all the martial virtues, the one which is perhaps most characteristic of the truly brave is the virtue of magnanimity. That sentiment, immortalized by Scott in his musical and martial verse, will associate for all time the name of Scotland's king with those of the great spirits of the past. How grand the exhibitions of the same generous impulses that characterize this memorable battlefield! My fellow-countrymen of the North, if I may be permitted to speak for those whom I represent, let me assure you that in the profoundest depths of their nature, they reciprocate that generosity with all the manliness and sincerity of which they are capable. In token of that sincerity they join in consecrating, for annual patriotic pilgrimage, these historic heights, which drank such copious draughts of American blood, poured so freely in discharge of duty, as each conceived it,-a Mecca for the North, which so grandly defended, a Mecca for the South, which so bravely and persistently stormed it. We join you in setting apart this land as an enduring monument of peace, brotherhood, and perpetual union. I repeat the thought with emphasis, with singleness of heart and of purpose, in the name of a common country, and of universal liberty; and by the blood of our fallen brothers, we unite in the solemn consecration

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