The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1871-08-18
he Grue SNortherner.
PAW PAW. MICHIGAN.
The Dead March.
rpERLIN. JUNE l6. 1s71.l

[BERLIN, JUNE Is. 1871
WHAT war il / really saw, you say, the day when
our troops came marching inn
All sister. that was the strangest thing of all the
sights that have ever been.
But turn away from the setting sun that dazzles
white on the graYe-stones there:
Under the lift of the breezy vines we catch a
breath of the cooler air.
went with the others TO see the show; went
with the Others-yct all alone
What wonder then. if my heavy heart lay in my
breast like a frozen stone?
If was sad on day like that there was reason
enough. the dear Lord knOwsl
But there are sights and sounds, | think, would
quicken the dullest blood that flows.
And when with the rest took my place, crowded
so close, in the eager throng,
Almost we felt like n single pulse the heartbeat
quivering far along
When, winding round by the hard-won flags, the
guns and eagles, from arch TO arch.
In time with the muscs triumph swell | saw the
glittering army march.
Out of my bosom the lump of ice melted as if in
moment away
One passionate thrOb of the common JOY made
me part of the glorious day.
Grand, like king, on his great black horse our
Emperor rode at the head of the line;
Flowing after il seemed for miles, a river of
steel in the hot sunshine.
All the length Of the shining street as far as the
daZzlcd eye could see.
Flags and garlands and colors twncd, huttered
like leaves on the summer tree
Fluttered and few. as if to meet the gathering
drum beat following in,
AS thunder follows the lightning flash, the sud
den shock OF the bugle's din.
Streaming out on the shaken air. over US, under
us, round and round
Mixed together they seemed TO whirl, sound ana
color color and sound!
And through it all, with steady tramp, chang
ing ever, yet still the same.
Men in their yigOr and beardleSs boys, IN solid
ranks the regiments came.
Something what, can hardly say-brokc the
strain that had held Us still
All in second the silent crowd shouted out with
single will;
Men and women in one great cry, that bore the
gathering music down
The voice of nation JOY and pride in the dear
old Fatherland'S renOwn.
/ cheercd with the others till. all at once, pang
like knife stabbed heart and brain;
For the face Of one of those beardleSS boys
brought back the face of my Karl so plain!
Ny own brave boy my only boy! the strength
and hope of my lonely age!
The single treasure | had give, to King and
Country, my loyal gage.
I thought of him as he marched away-he, the
light Of the dull old home :
With the tear and smile in his bright blue eye
for the grief behind and the glory TO come
I thought oSthe form | should not see as l
watched that cleaning army wind,
Till rush of tears and struggling sobs left me
suddenly dumb and blind.
All, good God what CHASTITY change when I
opened my eyes again
Right through the heart of the shouting crowd.
still and slow, like funeral train,
All the length Of the shining street. with the
wreaths and banners overhead,
Moved, in the place of the living lines, a horrible
army of the Dead!
White with the throe of the violent death,
stained with blood, and blackened with
Each with its motionless eyes on mine. came
many face | knew full well
Came at last the face that l sought the face
dreaded and longed TO see
My own dear boy my only boy! with the motion
less eyes upturned TO me!
Then in my pain I shrieked aloud, and the good
God took my sense away;
The sun was hot for feeble head, if in
dream heard them say
l heard them say, when woke at last to the
quiet and rest of the darkcncd room.
l could not tell 10 Il strangers ear that terrible
vision of the tomb.
But often, still, when the setting sun lies low on
the head-StOncs over there,
The cross that stands by an empty mound seems
to fade on the gilmmering air
Seems to change 10 form | know, with the
mOtionlcss eyes on mine again,
Come back to my sight a. then he came from his
nameless grave on the battle-plain
An UoIl with mo II l. evening foo and either
side of the dark is light:
To-day my country to- morrow my boy lit is
but to wait through the little night.
KATE PUTNAM OsGOoD.