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161

PRO PATRIA

IN MEMORY OF A FAITHFUL CHAPLAIN

I

Erewhile I sang the praise of them whose lustrous names
Flashed in war's dreadful flames;
Who rose in glory, and in splendor, and in might
To fame's sequestered hight.

II

Honor to all, for each his honors meekly carried,
Nor e'er the conquered harried;
All honor, for they sought alone to serve the state—
Not merely to be great.

III

Yes, while the glorious past our grateful memory craves,
And while yon bright flag waves,
Lincoln, Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, the peerless four,
Shall live for evermore;

IV

Shall shine the eternal stars of stern and loyal love,
All other stars above;
The imperial nation they made one, at last, and free,
Their monument shall be.

V

Ah, yes! but ne'er may we forget the praise to sound
Of the brave souls that found
Death in the myriad ranks, 'mid blood, and groans, and stenches—
Tombs in the abhorrèd trenches.
162

VI

Comrades! To-day a tear-wet garland I would bring—
But one song let me sing,
For one sole hero of my heart and desolate home;
Come with me, Comrades, come!

VII

Bring your glad flowers, your flags, for this one humble grave;
For, Soldiers, he was brave!
Tho' fell not he before the cannon's thunderous breath,
Yet noble was his death.

VIII

True soldier of his country and the sacred cross—
He counted gain, not loss,
Perils and nameless horrors of the embattled field,
While he had help to yield.

IX

But not where 'mid wild cheers the awful battle broke,—
A hell of fire and smoke,—
He to heroic death went forth with soul elate;
Harder his lonely fate.

X

There in the pest-house died he; stricken he fearless fell,
Knowing that all was well;
The high, mysterious Power whereof mankind has dreamed
To him not distant seemed.

XI

Yet life to him was O, most dear,—home, children, wife,—
But, dearer still than life,
163

Duty—that passion of the soul which from the sod
Alone lifts man to God.

XII

So nobly past this unknown hero of the war;
And heroes, near and far,
Sleep now in graves like his unfamed in song or story—
But theirs is more than glory!
 

Chaplain William Henry Gilder, of the 40th New York Volunteers, died at Brandy Station, Virginia, in April, 1864, of smallpox caught while in attendance upon the regimental hospital.

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