Page:In Bohemia (1886).djvu/99

Rh The Army of Potomac never lay- So full of strength as in its camp to-day!

On fatal Chæronea's field the Greeks A lion raised—a sombre tomb that speaks No word, no name,—an emblem of the pride Of those that ruled the insect host that died.

But by her soldiers' graves Columbia proves How fast toward morn the night of manhood moves. Those low white lines at Gettysburg remain The sacred record of her humblest slain, Whose children's children in their time shall come To view with pride their hero-father's tomb, While down the ages runs the patriot line. Till rich tradition makes each tomb a shrine.

Our standing army these, with spectre glaives; Our fortressed towns their battle-ordered graves. Here sleep our valiant, sown like dragon's teeth; Here new-born sons renew the pious wreath;