Aberdeen herald. [volume] (Aberdeen, Chehalis County, W.T.) 1886-1917, 1906-09-13
NeGS1pa1lpsrs-r' ssusssssssssAeaAgaar
z xEEGf - , S93399A D.
~ o.
y OLD !;
Z &eeeeeeeee,%Aa.saaaasa&!


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
.~~~-~.~-~-~~-~~~
The BivOuac of the Dead.
The mufIled drums sad roll has beat
The soldiers last tattoo;
No mora on life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On famcs eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread,
Aud Glory guards, with solemn round,
The bivouac of the dead.
No rumor Of the foes advance
Now swels upon the wind;
No troubled thoughts at midnight haunts
Of loved ones left behind
No vision of the morrOws strife
The warriors dream alarms;
No braying horn nor screaming fife
At dawn shall call to arms.
Their shivered swords are red with rust,
Their plumed heads are bowed;
Their naughty banner. trailed in dust,
Is now their martial shroud.
And plenteous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow.
And the proud forms. by battle gashed,
Are free from anguish now.
The neighng troops, the flashing blade.
The bugle's stirring blast.
The charge, the dreadful cannonade,
The din and shout. are past;
No wars wild note nor glory's peal
Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that never more may feel
The rapture of the fight.
Like the fierce northern hurricane
That sweeps his great plateau,
Flushed with the triumph yet to gain,
Came down the serried foe.
Who heard the thunder of the fray
Break DER the field beneath.
Knew well the watchword OF that day
Was Victory or Death"
Long had the doubtful conflict ragged
Der all that stricken plain,
For never fiercer fight had waged
The vengeful blood Of Spain;
And still the storm of battle blew,
Still swelled the CORY tide;
Not long. our stout old cheftain knew,
Such odds his strength could bide.
Twas in that hour his stern command
Called to martyrs grave
The flower of his beloved land,
The nations flag to save.
BY rivers of their fathers gore
His frst-born laurels grew.
And well he deemed the sons would pour
Their lives for glory, too.
Full many a norther's breath has swept
Der Angostura's plain.
And long the plying sky has wept
Above its mouldered slain.
The ravens scream, or eagles fight,
Or shepherds pensive lay.
Alone awakes each sullen height
That frowned DER that dread fray.
Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground,
You must not slumber there
Where stranger steps and tongues re-
sound
Along the needless air.
Your own proud lands heroic soil
Shall be your filter grave
She claims from war his richest spoil
The ashes of her brave.
Thus meath their parent turf they rest
Far from the CORY field
Borne to a Spartan mothers breast
On many a bloody shield
The sunshine of their native sky
Smiles sadly on them here,
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
The heroes sepulchre.
Rest on. embalmed and santed dead!
Dear as the blood We gave:
No impious footstep here shall tread
The heritage of your grave:
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While Fame her record keeps.
o Honor points the halowed spot
Where Valor proudly sleeps.
Yon marble mnstrel's voiceless stone
In deathless song shall tell,
When many n vanished age hath flown,
The story how We fell
Nor wreck, nor change nor winters
blight.
Nor Times remorseless doom.
Shall dim one ray of glory's light
That gilds your deathless tomb
Theodore O'IIara.