 | Poems by John Howard Bryant |  |
219
LINES WRITTEN FOR DECORATION DAY, MAY 30TH, 1879.
Calm sleep our brave through all the land,—
The brave, who for their country died,—
By mountain-steep and river strand,
And by the restless ocean's side
The brave, who for their country died,—
By mountain-steep and river strand,
And by the restless ocean's side
Calm sleep our brave. To-day we come,
Not with the cannon's fearful roar,
Not with the martial roll of drum,
To call to battle fields once more;
Not with the cannon's fearful roar,
Not with the martial roll of drum,
To call to battle fields once more;
But 'neath this soft, blue sky of May,—
In these serene and peaceful hours,
We come upon these graves to lay
Fresh garlands twined with vernal flowers.
In these serene and peaceful hours,
We come upon these graves to lay
Fresh garlands twined with vernal flowers.
Not that the form that sleeps in death,
Heeds the light footstep pressing near,
But that this tide of living breath,
May thrill with holier impulse here.
Heeds the light footstep pressing near,
But that this tide of living breath,
May thrill with holier impulse here.
220
O, ye dead heroes! let us not
Neglect at each returning spring,
To meet upon this sacred spot
And here our grateful offerings bring.
Neglect at each returning spring,
To meet upon this sacred spot
And here our grateful offerings bring.
Nor here alone, but far and near,
Where'er our soldiers sleep in clay,
May pilgrims come each passing year,
And there the meed of honor pay.
Where'er our soldiers sleep in clay,
May pilgrims come each passing year,
And there the meed of honor pay.
O never let their memory die!
Who saved to freedom, power and fame,
This land, when darkness veiled our sky
And o'er us rolled war's wasting flame.
Who saved to freedom, power and fame,
This land, when darkness veiled our sky
And o'er us rolled war's wasting flame.
Nor let these tender rites be lost;
By them shall coming times be taught,
Through what deep pain, what countless cost,
The Nation's power to live was bought.
By them shall coming times be taught,
Through what deep pain, what countless cost,
The Nation's power to live was bought.
Warned by the awful bloody past,
Eschewing bitterness and strife,
May our dear country stand at last,
Renewed in all its inner life.
Eschewing bitterness and strife,
May our dear country stand at last,
Renewed in all its inner life.
Then through a long and prosperous reign,
Shall God's good angels round us stand,
And peace and friendship with their train,
Bless a united, happy land.
Shall God's good angels round us stand,
And peace and friendship with their train,
Bless a united, happy land.
| Poems by John Howard Bryant | |