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FOR OUR DEAD
BY CLINTON SCOLLARD
Flowers for our dead!
Praise for our dead!
Love for our dead!
For freedom's morning smile
AN ODE FOR DECORATION DAY
BY HENRY PETERSON
Bring flowers, to strew again
When they who sleep beneath
Were full of vigorous breath.
Holding in strong right hand
The fortunes of the land, The pride and power and safety of the North! It seems but yesterday The long and proud arrayBut yesterday when e'en the solid rock Shook as with earthquake shockAs North and South, like two huge icebergs, ground Against each other with convulsive bound, And the whole world stood still
To view the mighty war,
And hear the thunderous roar, While sheeted lightnings wrapped each plain and hill.
Alas! how few came back
We mourn for all, but each doth think of one
More precious to the heart than aught besideSome father, brother, husband, or some son,
Who came not back or, coming, sank and died; In him the whole sad list is glorified ! “ He fell 'fore Richmond in the seven long days When battle raged from morn till blood-dewed
eve, And lies there," one pale widowed mourner says,
And knows not most to triumph or to grieve. “My boy fell at Fair Oaks,” another sighs; “And mine at Gettysburg," his neighbor cries,
And that great name each sad-eyed listener thrills. I think of one who vanished when the press Of battle surged along the Wilderness,
And mourned the North upon her thousand hills.
O gallant brothers of the generous South!
Foes for a day, and brothers for all time, I charge you by the memories of our youth,
By Yorkstown's field and Montezuma's clime, Hold our dead sacred, let them quietly rest In your unnumbered vales, where God thought best! Your vines and flowers learned long since to forgive, And o'er their graves a broidered mantle weave; Be you as kind as they are, and the word Shall reach the Northland with each summer bird, And thoughts as sweet as summer shall awake Responsive to your kindness, and shall make Our peace the peace of brothers once again, And banish utterly the days of pain.
And ye, O Northmen! be ye not outdone
In generous thought and deed.
And they that give shall find it in their need.
Who died for a lost cause;
Ne'er won a world's applause!
Yes, bring fresh flowers, and strew the soldier's grave,
Whether he proudly lies
Beneath our Northern skies, Or where the Southern palms their branches wave. Let the bells toll, and wild war-music swell,
And for one day the thought of all the past,
Full of those memories vast-
COVER THEM OVER WITH BEAUTIFUL
Decoration Day Hymn
Cover them over with beautiful flow'rs,