Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1881-10-08
Our SORROW MAKES US ONE.
AN ODE TO THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD PR

I
AN ODE TO THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD PRES
IDENT.
The following beautiful poem was writ
ten by Miss Jessie V. French, daughter O.
the late lamented and talented southern
author and poet, Mrs. L. Virginia French
Its sentiments meet with response in ev.
cry heart:
''Be still !'' a nation cries million voices
| grieVe as one
''Be still % the people echo, from lands Of
snow, to lands of sun
"Be still l'' the children whisper from the
blue Italian shore
BE still = it Is funeral day, in its hush Sc
deep and long,
Mlngle the soft voice of the weak with the
deep voice of the strong
And dirge for the fallen chief, soldier,
President and man
Is j pe1n for the union of our hearts and
homes, and land!
Be still the bells are tolling from pine-clad
hills afar,
They ring on every sunny slope. and trern-
bic meath the star,
UP the mist-ensroudedv valley, by the rivers
rushing tide,
Comes the roll of flamentation-lamen
deep and wide!
And the tone of thousands grieving, like a
surging sea o'erfiOWS
The heart by the hardy hawthorn and the
home beneath the rose,
And the dirge for the stricken chiegtain, the
father and the son,
Is pean for the peOple-that death has
maze them one
As low in the silent chamber, how'd and
motionless they stand,
They are brothers on the northern hills,
and low sweet southern land
Iogether, brothers hoped and feared, and
thought with kindly care
Together, sisters waited, with watching
anu with prayer
Together, both are weeping now, DER pail,
ana plume, and bier;
There mingles mans brave tenderness with
Womans holy tear,
And the dirge for the fallen chieftain, the
soldier and the man
Is pean for the union of q large and lovely
land.
There is mourning for the widow, for the
orphan there is prayer,
There is wailing for the mother, whose
hopes lie withered there.
White hands are weaving garlGnds-pale
roses bathed i'll tearS-
And the worker there recalls each name
and dear dead love of years
And the great heart bows in anguish, with
q double weight of pain,
As through the lengthened silence, and
mist of sorrows rain,
The dirge rose for the fallen chief, the IA
ther and the son,
And pean for the peOpIe-reunited and
made one.
CnAbcI IlOW-IflG ylWnlnG gun, lis swollen
waters lave,
'I1s written on the crimson tide, and
snowy crested wave,
'Iis told in land OF shadow, and sung in
stOried rhyme,
'I1S chiSeled on the purple peaks, and sun
scOrched walls OF time.
The waiting, where the moses cling, to
portal, eve and spire-
The wishing, in the heart of love, and
burning heart of fire
Unite to sing dirge to-day, that rolls from
sun to sun,
And paean for the people, who in sorrow
ing are one!
'Be still" we pause aud whisper, as we take
our last farewell,
United are the heads that bow, and the
manly hearts that swell.
And may the eyes that see again, ''with Wis
ion heavenly clear
Look down from love and union there, to
love and union Eere''-
While we, through far eternal years, COM
memorate the day,
That bound the lovers of the blue, TO the
warm hearts of the gray.
And the dirge for the stricken chieftian,
soldier, President and man,
Was pean for the people-to UNITE and
sane the lCt7lt},