The National tribune., 1899-05-11
NEaoRIAl Day.
By THOMAS CALyKB.

A soldier Of old'on his pallet lay dying,
One morn Of lovely Memorial Day:
And various scenes through his visions
were flying
OF days that had frightened or shad
owed his way.
He dreamed of his childhood; his father
/ and mother;
| The farm where the years of his boy
| hood were spent:
The cottage; tbs garden; his sister and
| brother,
The school where together they merrily
went.
He dreamed of the shady road, cool and
inviting;
The flowers blooming lovely and sweet
| by its side;
The bridge DER the millstrcam, its green
| banks unit ng;
The sInbeams that glistened below on
the tide:
The moss covered mill with its rumble
| and clatter:
the children whose faces looked back
| from the pool;
Their steps on the bridge with their musi-
| cal patter,
AS over it gaily they tripped to the
| school.
He dreamed of the face and the form of
| the maiden
Around whose sweet being his fancies
| were chained;
Her eyes bright and tender, her red lips
lOye-laden,
The kisses he sometimes SO s.ealthily
| gained.
He dreamed of his youth and it's honest
ambition:
The home that he planned for the girl
OF his heart;
| The coming of war and patriots mission
| That hDia IN from lnUa and ambition
TO part.
He dreamed of the marches, the bivouac,
the battle;
The tolls and privations a soldier must
The roar Of the cannon, tho musketry's s
rattle;
The boys that so bravely confronted the
foe.
The steel-bristling ranks like the waves
OF the ocean
That halt and retreat but for mightier
sweep;
The crash of the charge and its mad
dened commotion,
The pang for a moment. the sinking to
sleep.
He dreamed of his waking, ne foe swiftly
flying;
The cheers for the victory " on from the
fray;
The sorrow he felt for the dead and the
dying;
The pity he felt for himself as he lay;
And then of the Joy and the passion OF
glo!y
That swept through his veins like the
rarest of wine,
When thinking that he, then so helpless
and CORY,
Had aided 10 hurl back the enemy s
line.
He dreamed of his pain and his long
cOnvaiescence,
The years that he struggled for life and
for health;
His learning the fateful and sad evanes-
ccnce
Oi hope OF Z future of love and of wealth.
He dreamed then OF years passed in peace
and c0ntentmcnt
With dear ones who loved on his pleas
ure to wait;
Though crippled and poor, never feeling
resentment
At drafts he had drank from the chalice
Of Fate.
He dreamed OF the hours. retrospective
and merry,
Enjoyed with his comrades Of camp and
Of field,
And Of those he had fought, who resent
In laughter and Joys the occasions might
yield.
He dreamed Of Grand Army Encamp-
mCnts and meetings,
The songs and the tales of the march
and the Tray;
The hearty good will and the cheer OF the
And many lovely Memorial Day.
Memorial Day, with its sad, solemn pleas
ureS;
When voices of thousands in grandest of
measures
The requiems sing through the bright,
vernai hours.
The day when the heart of this greatest of
Nations
Is mourning her braves who have jour
neyed away,
And gives to her dead her profound adora-
tons
The Nations dear, sacred Memorial Day.
He dreamed of such days, and the proud
exaltation
He ever had felt as their dawning re-
turned;
No wealth could have bought the trium-
phant elatiOn
That through all his being in ecstasy
burned.
Each march and each song and each
spec cb was tender
OF honor to him no misfortune could
stay;
And all of the fragrance Mays roses
could render
Was borne to his soul on Memorial Day.
AS dying he lay there bands martial
measures
Announced that his comrades for duty
had met;
His face was illumed by tho sweetest OF
pleasures,
To think that his country would never
forget;
And then, as the rapturous musi was
ringing,
More gentle and hushed as it drifted
away,
His soul on the pinions OF glory was
winging
Its way to it's God on Memorial Day.