Classic Poem

SUGGESTED ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL T. L. HAMER .

The brave who sleep in glory's shroud,
How proud a fate is theirs!
A stricken nation mourning stands
In grief beside their biers.
Strewn o'er our mountains and our plains,
Their bones in clusters lie,
And stars smile on their humble graves
From out the quiet sky.

Some fell upon the highland's crest,
And some sleep in the vale,
Where violets in summer time
Are nodding in the gale.
The bones of some are whitening
In stormy ocean's deep,
On hill and plain and ocean bed
So tranquilly they sleep.

From city and from country side
In pride of youth they came,
The noble and the beautiful,
To shield from harm or shame
The rich old memories of the past,
The glorious legacy
From men who in the olden time
Fought battles to be free.

Around the effulgent flag they pressed,
That, borne in many wars,
Dishonor never visited
To lurk amid its stars.
To guard it with the old renown,
Or dearly life to sell,
They closed around its lustrous sheen,
And, conquering, they fell.

In time's dim cycles yet to come,
The mother to her child
Will tell of the fierce battle won
And the red carnage wild.
And proud tradition shall hand down
The glory of the brave,
Long as above free hearts and hands
Our star-lit flag shall wave.