Part 23

But the old wounds all are healed, And the dungeoned limbs are free,-- The Blue Frocks rise from the field, The Blue Jackets out of the sea.

They've 'scaped from the torture-den, They've broken the bloody sod, They're all come to life again!-- The Third of a Million men That died for Thee and for God!

A tenderer green than May The Eternal Season wears,-- The blue of our summer's day Is dim and pallid to theirs,-- The Horror faded away, And 'twas heaven all unawares!

Tents on the Infinite Shore! Flags in the azuline sky, Sails on the seas once more! To-day, in the heaven on high, All under arms once more!

The troops are all in their lines, The guidons flutter and play; But every bayonet shines, For all must march to-day.

What lofty pennons flaunt? What mighty echoes haunt, As of great guns, o'er the main? Hark to the sound again-- The Congress is all a-taunt! The Cumberland's manned again!

All the ships and their men Are in line of battle to-day,-- All at quarters, as when Their last roll thundered away,-- All at their guns, as then, For the Fleet salutes to-day.

The armies have broken camp On the vast and sunny plain, The drums are rolling again; With steady, measured tramp, They're marching all again.

With alignment firm and solemn, Once again they form In mighty square and column,-- But never for charge and storm.

The Old Flag they died under Floats above them on the shore, And on the great ships yonder The ensigns dip once more-- And once again the thunder Of the thirty guns and four!

In solid platoons of steel, Under heaven's triumphal arch, The long lines break and wheel-- And the word is, "Forward, march!"

The Colors ripple o'erhead, The drums roll up to the sky, And with martial time and tread The regiments all pass by-- The ranks of our faithful Dead, Meeting their President's eye.

With a soldier's quiet pride They smile o'er the perished pain, For their anguish was not vain-- For thee, O Father, we died! And we did not die in vain.

March on, your last brave mile! Salute him, Star and Lace, Form round him, rank and file, And look on the kind, rough face;

But the quaint and homely smile Has a glory and a grace It never had known erewhile-- Never, in time and space.

Close round him, hearts of pride! Press near him, side by side,-- Our Father is not alone! For the Holy Right ye died, And Christ, the Crucified, Waits to welcome His own.

TRIBUTES

A statesman of the school of sound common sense, and a philanthropist of the most practical type, a patriot without a superior--his monument is a country preserved.

C. S. Harrington.

Now all men begin to see that the plain people, who at last came to love him and to lean upon his wisdom, and trust him absolutely, were altogether right, and that in deed and purpose he was earnestly devoted to the welfare of the whole country, and of all its inhabitants.

R. B. Hayes.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

BY JOEL BENTON

Some opulent force of genius, soul, and race, Some deep life-current from far centuries Flowed to his mind, and lighted his sad eyes, And gave his name, among great names, high place.

But these are miracles we may not trace-- Nor say why from a source and lineage mean He rose to grandeur never dreamt or seen, Or told on the long scroll of history's space.

The tragic fate of one broad hemisphere Fell on stern days to his supreme control, All that the world and liberty held dear Pressed like a nightmare on his patient soul. Martyr beloved, on whom, when life was done, Fame looked, and saw another Washington!

By permission of the author.

ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN