« EelmineJätka »
Lie the true martyrs of the fight,
ONLY A SOLDIER'S GRAVE
BY S. A. JONES, OF ABERDEEN, MISS.
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
Yet, should we mark it-the soldier's grave, Some one may seek him in hope to save! Some of the dear ones, far away, Would bear him home to his native clay; 'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh, Find not the hillock, and pass him by. (Southern.)
READING THE LIST
“Is there any news of the war?” she said.
“ 'Tis the very thing I want,” she said; “Read me a list of the wounded and dead.” He read the list-'twas a sad array Of the wounded and killed in the fatal fray.
In the very midst, was a pause to tell
Was the proud reply
Of his captain nigh-
Well, well, read on; is he wounded? Quick! O God! but my heart is sorrow-sick! Is he wounded?” “No; he fell, they say, Killed outright on that fatal day!” But see, the woman has swooned away!
Sadly she opened her eyes to the light;
God pity the cheerless Widow Gray,
The light of his peace to illumine her way. (Southern.)
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Sleep, comrades ! sleep and rest
On this field of grounded arms, Where foes no more molest,
Nor sentry's shot alarms.
Ye have slept on the ground before,
And started to your feet At the cannon's sudden roar,
Or the drum’s redoubling beat.
But in this camp of death
No sound your slumber breaks; Here is no fevered breath,
No wound that bleeds and aches.
All is repose and peace;
Untrampled lies the sod; The shouts of battle cease,
It is the truce of God.
Rest, comrades ! rest and sleep!
The thoughts of men should be As sentinels, to keep
Your rest from dangers free.
Your silent tents of green
We deck with fragrant flowers; Yours has the suffering been,
The memory shall be ours.
Blessed is that country whose soldiers fight for it and are willing to give the best they have, the best that any man has, their own lives, to preserve it because they love it. Such an army the United States has always commanded in every crisis of her history. From the War of the Revolution to the late Civil War, the men followed that flag in battle because they loved that flag and believed in what it represented.
That was the stuff of which the volunteer army of '61 was made. Every one of them not only fought, but thought. And many of them did their own thinking and did not always agree with their commander. A young soldier in the late war was on the battle line ahead with the color-guard, bearing the stars and stripes way in front of the line, but the enemy still in front of him. The general called out to the colorbearer, “ Bring those colors back to the line," and quicker than any bullet that young soldier answered back, “ Bring the line up to the colors.” It was the voice of command; there was a man behind it, and there was patriotism in his heart.
"So nigh is grandeur to our dust;
So near to God is man,
The youth replies, 'I can.''
And so, more than two million brave men thus responded and made up an army grander than any army