Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1876-06-17
MEMORIAL POEM.

L
dor blaze,
So glory's halo marked our legions onward
tread,
martyr dead.
Linked to the past by memory's mystic
chain,
To-day the living present ushers in that
shadowy past,
When patriot sons as patriot sires of yore,
Grasped the cleaning sword III answer to
tina bugle blast.
See, from Sumpter's battlemented walls,
Defiant wave the foeman's bannerfolds :;
And from the deep emErasures flash war 5
beacon light,
And startling echoes o'er the darkened
water rolls.
IT'S heard on Alleghany's craggy side,
To Chesapeake StOrm-tOSSed tide,
From hill and dell of Maryland,
To Florida'S fa- oil flowery strand.
An ominous silence rcigns-the echo dies,
As do the thunder tones that bids the
storm arise.
Above the far of main the gathered clouds
descry,
That moves to wrap in sable pail the azure
sky,
And meath its darkened shades our sons
appear
Invoking God, a sacrificial altar rear.
From humble cot, where round the door
the vine
Was train ed to adorn the quiet happy
homes
From pastoral scenes, where peace has
won't to dwell,
The stalwart yeoman to the conflict comes.
The plow-share rests beneath the unturn-
ed glebe;
The forge's dying embers cease TO glow;
And labors horny hand forgcts its craft
And grasps the sword to deal the aycnging
blow.
Mark the broken household ties.
See the mothers tears and sighS.
Hear the prayers that hcavenward rise !.
See the offered sacrifice!
Mark the lovers tender parting.
Back crushed the tears upstarting.
See the sisters last fond kiss,
And the mothers last careSS
Hear the prayer that God might bless
The anDointed sacrifice.
The fiery, scathing, breath of war,
Sweeps across Manassas sterile plain;
The chalicc with the crimson stream runs
DER,
Upon the altar lay our mangled slain.
At last when DER the sanguined sod there
fell
The summer sunlight IN its dying ray,
81, a. III
Told the twilight Of nations natal day.
Forward and onward in the battles shock
The battered legiOns stand like some
strong rock,
That DER the beaten strand its vigilS keep,
And stays the angry pillows of the deep.
Onward, where shot and shell are flying :;
On, where manglcd ranks lay dying;
On, where CORY swords are flashing;
On, where shott6d death is crashing;
On, where bloody waves are dashing;
See, the battle smoke updrifted;
See! the standard proud uplifted.
What tho its folds are tattercd;
What tho its shaft is shattered;
Victory brightens every star.
Oh, the ebbing and the flowing
OF the angry bloody tide?
See, it lifts anG breaks and dashcs
Down the Round Tops rugged side.
See, the deep ming of the Shadows
Gathers DER the battle plain.
Our standard folds have fallen,
Ne'cr alas, TO rise again.
Like some proud oakwhose strength with
stood
For years the gathered storm and rushing
flood,
Breaks ere it bends, yet do the vital roots
remain
Unscathed by elemental strife to live
again.
Thus, tho our banner fell before the foe
mans might,
Unharmed by battle stroke the everything
right
Remains, hallowed by our comrades sacri-
fetal blood,
Baptised in woman's tears, and sanctioned
by our God.
We hear no more the bugle's battle call :;
The plowshare hides where conflict 5
scars have been;
The sword hangs rusting on the cottage
wall,
And songs of peace succeed the battle
din.
The fertile glebe its golden harvests bring !;
In peaceful fields the lowing herds are
seen;
We hear the sturdy smithy's anvil ring :;
While happy groups disport upon the
village green.
Thus ever, Time enshroudS the deadened
years,
And cast shadowy pail around their
graves,
And tire-side legends tell of former hopes
and fears,
While gentle white browed Peace her
scepter waves.
We come with reverent tread
TO the ashes of orr dead,
And breathe the living story
Ofhow they fought and bled.
OF their wants ana self-denying,
OF their scars and wounds, land dying.
They have made their last charge, their
weapons are grounded;
Their tents have been struck, all their
marchings are Ger.
From the nelGS OF tQe sialn, lhe weary
and wounded,
They answered the oil when the last tat
too sounded.
The bugIe will wake them to glory no
more.
Sleep, heroes sleep-the victory thine
We guard thy sacred dust;
Each humble mound is Freedom 5 shrine,
COuntry's sacred trust