The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1876-06-23

OF THE POTOMAC, READ At THE REUNION,
JUNE G, 1875.
Bright on the sparkling sward this day
The youthful summer CLEANS;
The roses IN the south wind play.
The slumberOus woodland dreams.
In golden light, meath clouds OF fleece,
Mid blrd-songs wild and free,
The blue Potomac flows In peace
Down to the peaceful sea.
No echo from the stormy past
Alarms the placid vale,
Nor cannon roar, nor trumpet blast,
Nor shattered soldier wall.
There's nothing left TO mark the strife,
The triumph or the pain,
Where Nature to her general life
Takes back our lives again.
Yet In your vision evermore,
Beneath anrlghted skies,
with crash OF sound, with reek OF gore,
The martial pngeants rise.
Audaclous banners reno the air,
Dark stccds Of battle neigh,
And, frantic through the sulphurous glare,
Raves ON the crimson fray.
Not time nor chance nor change can drown
Your memories proud and high.
Nor pluck your star OF greatness down
From glOrys deathess sky.
FOrevcrmore your fame shall bide-
Your vaor tried and true
And that which makes your countly's pride
May well be pride to you.
Forever through the soldiers thought
The soldiers lifo returns
or where the trampled fields are fought,
orwhcrc the camp Hire burns.
For him the pomp OF mourning brings
a thrill none else eau know,
For him Night waves her sable wings
O'er many namcless woe.
How often face to face with death,
In stern suspense he STOOD
While bird and insect held their breath
Within the ambushed wood.
Again he sees the silent hills,
with dangers menace grim,
And dallIy all the shuddcrIng rllls
Eun red with blood Tor him.
For him the cruel sun Of noon
Glares on a bristlng plain,
For him the cold disdainfu moon
Lights meadows rough with slain.
There's death lu every sight he sees,
In every sound he hears,
And sunset hush and evening breeze
Are sad with piisoncd tears.
Again worn out In midnight march.
lie sinks beside the track;
Again beneath the plying arch
His dreams OF home come back;
In morning winds the roses shake
Around hks cottage door,
And little feet OF children make
Their music on the floor
The tones that nevermore on earth
Can bid his pulses leap
Ring out again In cal eless mirth
Across the vales OF sleep;
And where In horrent spenuor roll
The waves of vict'ry's tide,
The cherished comrades OF his soul
Are glorious at his side.
Forget! the arm may lose its might,
The tired heart beat low,
The sun from Heaven blot out his light,
The west wind cease to blow,
But while one spark OF life is warm
Within this mould OF clay,
His soul shall reve In the storm
OF that tremendous day.
on mountain slope, In lonely glen,
BY Fate's supreme command,
The blood OF those devoted men
Has sanctilicd this land.
The funeral moss-but not In grief
Waves Ger their hallowed rest.
And rot in grief the laurel leaf
Drops on the hero's breast.
Tears FOR the living when Gods gift
The friend OF man to be
Wastes, like the shattered spars that drift
Upon the unknown sea!
Tears for the wreck who sinks at last,
No deed OF valor done;
But no tears for the soul that past
When honors fight was won.
lie taes the hand OF Heavenly Fate
Who lives and dies for TRUTH
For him the holy angels wait
IN realms OF endless youth!
The grass upon his grave is green
With everlasting bloom
And love and blessings make the sheen
or glory round his tomb.
Mourn not for them, the loved and gone
The cause he died TO save
Plants an eternal cornerstone
Upon the martyrs grave;
And, safe from all the Ills we pass,
Their sleep Is sweet and low,
Meath requlems Of the murmuring grass
And dirges OF the snow.
That sunset watts It's hOliest kiss
Through evenings gathering shades,
That beauty breaks the heart with bliss
The hour before 1t fades,
That music seems to merge With heaven
Just when Its echo dies,
Is natures sacred promise given
OF life beyond the skies.
Mourn mott In life and death they teach
THIS thOught-this trutn-sublme
There's no man free except he reach
Beyond the verge OF time!
SO, becEoning up the starry slope,
They bid our souls TO live,
And, fooding all the world with hope,
Have taught us to forgive
No soldier spurns a fallen foe
No hate NJ human kind
can darken down the generous glow
That fires the patriot mind!
But love shall make the yanqulshed strong
And mercy lift their ban,
Where right no more can bend TO wrong,
Nor man be slave TO man.
So from their quiet graves they speak,
SO speaks that quiet scene,
Where now the violet blossom meek
And AL the fields are green,
There wood and stream and flower and buC
A pure content declare,
And where the voice OF war was heard
Is heard the voice OF prayer.
once more in perfect love, o Lord,
our aliened hearts unite!
And clasp across the broken sword
The hands that used to smite!
And since beside Potomac's wavo
There's nothing left but peace,
Be tilled, at last, the open grave,
And let the sorrow cease!
Sweet frem the plying northern pines
Their loving whisper tows,
And swectly where the orange shines
The palm tree wOos the rose;
And let that tender music run
oer all The years to be,
And Thy great blessing make us one
And make us one with Thee.
-IPWiam Wm
A NEW Lesson FROM NATURE
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