170
LINES SUGGESTED BY A LETTER.
To each, whatever be his rank,
A laurel should be given.
And they, who in past conflict sank,
Escaped the bitter dregs we drank
In homes still desolate and blank,
For martyred ones in heaven.
A laurel should be given.
And they, who in past conflict sank,
Escaped the bitter dregs we drank
In homes still desolate and blank,
For martyred ones in heaven.
Their files are thinned by battle's tide,
And broken forms are there;
The chieftain Wild, restored to guide,
And King, the dauntless, by his side,
Our glorious banner still his pride,
The enemy will dare.
And broken forms are there;
The chieftain Wild, restored to guide,
And King, the dauntless, by his side,
Our glorious banner still his pride,
The enemy will dare.
The absent we our vigils keep
Where'er on guard, in tent;
Our sympathies are hushed and deep
On tired march, or when asleep;
Round vacant beds we pray or weep,
And life with love is blent.
Where'er on guard, in tent;
Our sympathies are hushed and deep
On tired march, or when asleep;
Round vacant beds we pray or weep,
And life with love is blent.
