The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1907-05-16
May so.
(By Harry ]. Shellman.)

Hang out the flag, the dear old flag,
upon the outer wall.
1 hear again the flies shrill notes, the
bugle's mellow call.
Once more the veterans fill the ranks,
IN files not serried, tho,
AS when they marched into the South
some 40 years ago.
I hear the sound of marching men, the
tramp of myriad feet,
The steady footballs echo all along the
paved street.
They follow where "Old Glory leads,
with solemn step and slow,
Not light and springy as they marched
some 40 years ago.
Year after year they fewer grow, their
ranks are thinning fast,
And more graves dot the hillside slopes
as every May goes past,
And gray heads nod along the line
where dark hair used to grow
When marching down in Dixie's Land
some 40 years ago.
1 seem to view again the scenes when
men went marching forth;
1 seem to see again the grand uprising
of the North;
I hear again the echoing cheer, the
plaudits of the crowd,
And see the boys march to the front
with valiant mien and proud.
I see the fathers brief farewell, the
mothers fond embrace;
I note the lovers sad good-by, the lorn
wife's tear-stained face;
The children's half-bewildered look so
suited to their years,
When tinSel and display so Ill seem
cause for mothers tears.
hear the ringing cheers for those
who're marching forth to meet
Honor and fame and victory, parchance
death or defeat.
Some went to meet a shattered life,
with valiant hearts and brave.
And some. like those who march to-
day. were marching toward the
grave.
1 seem to see again arise the clouds of
sulphurouS smoke;
hear again the changing hoofs, the sa-
ber's vigorous stroke;
hear the ping of mimic balls, the
lannon's loud-mouthed roar,
The clash Of steel, the human yells, the
fiery hate of war.
1 see the bloody pictures made upon a
landscape green;
I see the comrades parched lips wet
from the same canteen;
see men die for other men; 1 see the
true and brave
Form comradeship and brotherhood
that lasts beyond the grave.
L near dSdlil VHe Ddltle CRY tndI rang at
Malvern Hill,
The cheer that rose at Round Top, the
shout at charlottesville;
see again the sailor men sweep up
thru Mobile Bay;
see the sights on Lookout flights and
AllatoOna'S fray.
see he famous seward march; see
the bummer's foray;
see the mine at Petersburg burst up
The panorama passes on, with Shrek
and yell and rattle,
The pandemonium and din and carnage
of the battle,
Now all goes calmer once again, and
Johnnies homeward march,
And flags are waved, and cheers are
given, and towns their highways
arch.
Sweet peace smiles on the land once
more, but many sad tears flow
For those who stayed in Dixie's Land
some 40 years ago.
The panorama's passed away; the years
have sped along;
I hear again the tramping feet, the
murmur of the throng.
IT'S not gala day parade, nor yet
martial show,
AS when they marched to Dixie's Land
some 40 years ago.
Hang out the flag, the dear old flag,
upon the outer wall
When sounds again the shrill-toned fife,
the bugle's mellow call.
Once more the veterans fill the ranks
and tramp with footsteps slow
To honor dead who tramped with them
some 40 years ago.
They hide no hatred in their hearts for
those who wore the gray,
But comradeship of bygone years will
bind brave hearts for aye.
With those who struggled side by side
fraternal love must grow
AS ranks grow thin Of those who
marched some 40 years ago.