The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1868-08-05
LINEs FOR THE DAY.

For Irish soldiers, fighting here
AS when Lord Clare was bid advance,
And Cumberland beheld with fear
The old green banner swinging clear
To shield the broken lines OF France.
We mourn them-not because they died
In battle, for our destined race
In every field of warlike pride
From Limerick's wall to India's tide
Have borne our flag to foremost place
As If each sought the soldiers trade
While some dim hope within him CLOVIS,
Before he dies, in line arrayed
To see the old Green Flag displayed
For final fight with Ireland's foes.
For such race the soldiers death
Seems not cruel death to die
Around their names laurel wreath,
A wild cheer as the parting breath,
On which their spirits mount the sky;
Q had their hope been only won
On Irish soil, their final flight
And had they seen, ere sinking down,
Our Emerald torn from England's crown,
Each dead face would have flashed with
light.
But vain are words to check the tide
Of widowed grief and orphaned woe
Again we see them by our side,
AS full of youth, and strength, and pride
They first went out to meet the foe
Their kindling eyes, their steps elate,
Their grief at parting hid in mirth;
Against our foes no spark of hate
No wish but to preserve the State
That welcomes all the oppressed Of earth.
Not new Ireland to invoke
To guard the flag was all they sought;
Not to make others feel the yoke
OF Poland, fell the shot and stroke
Of those who in the Legion fought;
Upon our great flags azure field
10 hold unlarmed each starry GEM
This cause on many bloody field,
Trimmed out by death, they would not yield
1t was the worlds last hope to them.
o ye, the small surviving band
Irish race wherever spread,
With wailing voice and wringing hand,
And the wild kaoine of the old dear land,
Think of her Legion's countless dead,
Struck out of life by ball or blade,
Or torn in fragments by the shell.
With briefest prayer by brother made,
And rudely in their blankets laid,
Now sleep the brave who fought SO well.
Their widows-tell not them of pride,
No laurel checks the orphans tear;
They only feel the world is wide,
And dark, and hard-nor help nor guide
No Husband 3 arm, no Father near;
But at their woe our fields were won,
And pious pity for their loss
In streams of generous aid should run
To help them say "Thy will be done,''
AS bent in grief they kiss the Cross.
Then for the Soldiers and their Chief
Let all combine shaft to raise
The double type of pride and grief,
With many a sculpture and relief
To tell their tale to after days;
And here will shine-our proudest boast
While one of Irish blood survives
"Sacred to that unfaltering host
OF soldiers from q distant coast
Who for the Union gave their lives.
fWelcomed they were with generous hand,
And TO that welcome nobly true,
When wars dread tocsin filed the land,
With sinewy arm and swinging brand,
These exiles to the rescue flew;
Their fealty to the Flag they gave,
And for the Union daring death,
Foremost among the foremost brave,
They welcomed victory and the grave
In the same sigh of parting breath"
Thus be their modest history penned,
But not with this our love must cease;
Let prayers from piOus hearts ascend,
And o'er their ashes let us blend
All feuds and factions into peace:
Oh men of Ireland here unite
Around the graves of those we love,
And from their homes of endless light
The Legions dead will bless the sight
And rain down anthems from above
Here to this shrine by reverence led
Let love her sacred lessons teach
Shoulder to shoulder ris the dead,
From many trench with battle red.
And thus hear their ghostly speech:
"Oh, for the old Earth, and our sake
Renounce all feuds, eDgendering fear
And Ireland from her trance shall wake,
Striving once more her chains to break
When all her sons are brothers here.
see our Meagher's plume of green
Approving nod to hear the words,
And Corcoran's wrath applauds the scene,
And bold Mat. Murphy smiles, ween-
All three with hands on ghostly swords
Oh for their sake, whose names of light
Flash out like beacons from dark shores
Men of the old Race in your might,
AL factions quelled again unite
With you the Green Flag sinks or scars !
A Of