Classic Poem

Ermine or blazonry, he knew them not,
Nor cloth of gold, for Duty was his Queen;
But this he knew,—a soul without a spot,
Judgment untarnished, and a conscience clean.

In peace, in war, a worker day and night,
Laborious chieftain! toiling at his lamp;
The children had the splendor of the fight,—
Home was his battle-field, his room the camp.

Without a wound, without a stain he fell,
But with life rounded, all his acts complete;
And seldom History will have to tell
Of one whom Cato could more gladly greet.

Among the just his welcome should be warm,
Nor will New England let his memory cease;
He was our peacemaker, who mid the storm
Of the great conflict, served the Prince of Peace.