Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1868-1875, 1873-06-18
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The following exquisite poem, by James r
Randall, Is founded upon the following incident:
A few months after Gen. Grants election, the
Feceral graves at Arlington were decorated
Under the supposition that "Let us have peace
meant something substantial, an effort was made
by Southern l'dies at Washington TO place flow
ers upon the graves of thirty Confederates buried
there. They were prevented from performing
this pious duty by the interposition of armed
soldiery. In the night, however, a tremendous
storm Of wind and rain swept over the land, and
on on tne following morn the flowers strewed on the
the mounds Of tle thirty Confederatesl And
this was the origin and inspiration of the splen-
did lyric which has found SO much favor in the
South:
The broken column reared In air
To him who made our country great,
Can almost cast its shadows where
The victims of grand despair, --
In long, long ranks of death, await
Inc last loud trump, the Judgment-Sun,
Which comes for all, and, soon or late,
VIII come for those at Arlington.
In that vast sepulchre repose
The thousands reapeG from every fray;
The Men in Blue who once uprose
In battlefront to smite their foes
The Spartan Bands who wore the Gray.
The combat DER, the death-hug done.
In summer blaze or winter SHOWS,
They keep the truce at Arlington.
And, almost in myriad graves,
OF those who gained the unequal fight,
Are mounds that hide Confederate braves,
Who reck not how the North wind raves,
In dazzling day or dimmest night.
Der those who lost and those who won
Death holds no parley which was right
JEHOVAH judges Arlington.
The Dead had rest; the Dove of Peace
Brooded DER both with equal wings,
To both had come that great surcease,,
The last omnipotent release
From all the worlds delirious stings-
To bugle deaf and signal gun,
They slept, like heroes of ole Greece
Beneath the glebe at Arlington.
And in the Springs benignant reign,
The sweet May woke her harp of pines;
Teaching her choir thrilling strain
OF jubilee to land and main,
She danced in emerald down the lines
Denying largesse bright to none,
She saw no difference in the signs
That told who slept at Arlington.
She gave her grasses and her showers
To all alike who dreamed in dust;
Her song-birds woVe their dainty bowers
Amid the jesmine buds and flowers,
And piped with an impartial trust;
Waits of the air and liberal sun,
Their guileless glees were kind and just
To friend and foe at Arlington.
And mid the generous Spring there came
Some women Of the land, who strove
To make this funeral-field of fame
Glad as the May-GOd's altar flame,
With rosy wreaths of mutual love;
Unmindful who had lost or won,
They scorned the iargon of a name;
No North, no SOUTH, at Aringtonl
Between their pious thought and God
Stood flies of men with brutal steel.
The garlands placed on "Rebel" sod
Were trampled in the common ciod,
To die beneath the hireling heel.
Facing this triumph Of the Sun,
Our Smoky Caesar gave no nod,
To keep the peace at Arlington.
Jehoudh jIdgsd-sbashing man
For in the Yigils of the night,
His mighty stOrm-avengers ran
Together in one choral clan,
KebukIrg wrong, rewarding right;
Pluckng the Wreaths from those who won
The tempest heaped them dewy bright
On REBEL graves at Arlington.
And when the Morn came young and fair!
Brimful of bushes ripe and red,
Knee deep in sky-sent roses there,
Nature began her earliest prayer
Above triumphant Southern dead.
So, in the dark and in the sun
Our Cause survives the I1yrdHs's tread,
And sleeps to trdee at Arlington