The Sunday herald and weekly national intelligencer., 1891-03-01
SHERMAN DEAD !
BY j. II. MACKLEY.

1.-THE following stirring poem, read by
Charles Rhodes at a recent meeting of Encamp-
ment 60, Union Veterans Legion, is published
by general request:1
All, let no muffled drum nor blarng horn
Send forth its discord on the wintry air;
Nor loyal breasts with weeds of woe adorn,
Nor cry aloud in accents of dispair-
Softly, with fearful reverence, be it said:
"The weary march is done-our chief is dead!"
Nor let the strains of Marching to the Sea-
In echoes harsh resound by vale and hill;
Half-mast the treasured banner of the free
The warriors shout, the buge- blast. be still
| Approach this presence with silent tread,
The weary march is done-our chief is dead.
What was his fame? Ask an app!audlng world
That sings his well-won praises far and high;
Where'er flag for freedom is unfurled
The name of sherman" glitters on the sky
Then view his slumbers with uncovered head.
The weary march is done-our chief is dead.
The Mississippi whispers to its shore
The fadeless story of his mighty deeds,
The Chattahoochie's rapid waters poar
The tale of triumph to their swaying reeds
Still the last foe his fatal dart hath sped,
The weary march is done-our chief is dead
Atlanta -beauteous Empress of the South,
Blazons his banner with CLEAN of gold
And-holier thought-where frowned the can
mons mouth
The roses hlush and lilies bloom unfold
Yet broken, sad the mighty host he led,
The weary march is done-our chief is dead
No wild alarum-smply toll the bell
The vibrant echoes of our yelling grief,
While stammering tongues the solemn story tell;
We mourn to-day beside our fallen chief,
Appall'd at last the veteran host he led.
The weary march is done-our chief is dead.
Waited from Kenesaw's embattled crest
Is borne story told in tragic lines,
And family. from a field where heroes rest,
is heard the signing of the Southern pines
Long since, for these our bitter tears were she'd
We mourn afresh to-day-our chief is dead.
a flaming sword, he moved by swamp and field
To where Savannah nestles by the sea;
A patriot true, he saw the foemen yield,
And cast aloft the flag of Liberty.
To-day, alas lfe's glimmering spark hath sped
The weary march is done-our chief is dead.
No rolling drum or blast Of bugle-horn-
No scattering volley by his honor'd bier;
Symbols of peace-let tender flowers adorn
The startling legend sherman slumbers
here"
Let the grim Veteran come, with dropping head.
And cry aloud his grief-"our chief is dead"
Hark sweet music greets the startled ear,
And wakes the trembling echoes of the soul;
a phantom bugle's measures rich and clear,
Across the dark and troubled waters roll
Upon the shore cheering light is she'd
And comrades call-"why mourn ye Sherman
dead?"
The eye of faith beholds bright banners wave
Above the rapture of glttering throng,
And the great joy of triumph DER the grave
Is waited back, in wealth of merry song.
Down "by the sea" once more his host is led,
Then, comrade mine, why mourn we Sherman
dead?
Hancock and Meade are waiting by the shore,
Thomas and Grant enwrapped in beauty stand;
Garfield and Hooker join the glittering corps.
And gallant Porter treads the beauteous
strand;
There Sherman marches still, with victors tread,
While mortal weakness mourns chieftain dead.
There Sheridan and Logan join the host;
There Farragut, outriding every storm,
Is anchored far beyond earth's treacherous
coast;
All, view that camp, where fadeless hight is shed,
Then tell me, comrades, think ye Sherman dead
What though with paling cheek and bated breath
We stand to-day beside a comrades bier
We tremble not to measure arms with death"
But to the summons calmly answer "here ~
We march along with swift. though tottering
tread,
TO triumph stili-our comrades are not dead.
-<~-s--ss--
THE National Guard.n
This is the title OF the very latest addition to
- Ill. - 81 - n.