  He lies in state, while by his flag-draped bier Pass the long ranks of men who wore the gray?—? Men who heard shriek of shot and shell unmoved?—? Sobbing like children o’er the lifeless clay. Through the fair South the heroes whom he led Against the blue lines in the stricken field Muse on the days ere Appomattox wrenched The laurel wreath from Dixie’s shattered shield. The glories of Manassas, Chancellorsville, And all the triumphs those gray legions gained Seem gathered in a shadowy host beside That casket and those colors battle-stained! While in the frozen North the men who strove Against his squadrons, bartering blow for blow, Bow silvered heads, exclaiming lovingly, “May he rest well! He was a noble foe!” Genius and courage equally were his?—? He fought in cause his heart maintained as right, And when the sword clanked in the rusted sheath He murmured not against the losing fight, But made endeavor, with a loyal soul, To heal the wounds the years of strife had wrought?—? And in the fields of peace more glories won Than in the battles his gray warriors fought! ?—?W. A. P., in Chicago Journal. |
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