Across the Line.
Just as dear to me are mine,
Just as dear are yours to you,
They who stood in battle lines—
Our bonnie boys in gray and blue;
Each with heart for country's call,
Each laid low by cannon ball.
Just as dear are yours to you,
They who stood in battle lines—
Our bonnie boys in gray and blue;
Each with heart for country's call,
Each laid low by cannon ball.
Side by side they lie at rest,
Yours and mine, where hands might clasp;
The sweet wind bloweth from the west,
And catcheth in its friendly grasp
A rare perfume from Southern wands,
And wafts it over Northern lands.
Yours and mine, where hands might clasp;
The sweet wind bloweth from the west,
And catcheth in its friendly grasp
A rare perfume from Southern wands,
And wafts it over Northern lands.
The fairest blossoms of the South
Nod gentle welcome, one by one,
To every Northern river's mouth,
That bids its channels toward the sun,
Its onward course fore'er to run,
From day to day till all is done.
Nod gentle welcome, one by one,
To every Northern river's mouth,
That bids its channels toward the sun,
Its onward course fore'er to run,
From day to day till all is done.
Glad Nature teaches all the way
All bitterness to put aside,
A kindly heart from day to day
To open portals far and wide,
And cordially grasp a brother's hand,
No matter what his creed or land.
All bitterness to put aside,
A kindly heart from day to day
To open portals far and wide,
And cordially grasp a brother's hand,
No matter what his creed or land.
If dead tongues speak, then our boys
Lying low in Southern lands,
Whisper of something more than joys
We measure by, and clasping hands,
Look into one another's eyes
With smiles as radiant as the skies.
Lying low in Southern lands,
Whisper of something more than joys
We measure by, and clasping hands,
Look into one another's eyes
With smiles as radiant as the skies.
On sweetest sunlit summer morn,
As underneath its arch they lie
Resting, as when the newly born
Of Earth its mother's lullaby
Soothes it to gentle slumber
With love, not worlds can number.
As underneath its arch they lie
Resting, as when the newly born
Of Earth its mother's lullaby
Soothes it to gentle slumber
With love, not worlds can number.
So, sometimes, may not we, as they,
Clasp hands, and smile, and thus forget,
And love, as do the blue and gray
Who fought as best they knew, and yet
Forgave, for His sake—yours and mine,
Clasping hands "across the line."
Clasp hands, and smile, and thus forget,
And love, as do the blue and gray
Who fought as best they knew, and yet
Forgave, for His sake—yours and mine,
Clasping hands "across the line."