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366 Nor think we forget thee maternal;

Lag'd'st thou so long? shall the clouds close again upon thee?

Ah, but thou hast thyself now appear'd to us—we know thee,

Thou hast given us a sure proof, the glimpse of thyself,

Thou waitest there as everywhere thy time. 







far Dakota's cañons,

Lands of the wild ravine, the dusky Sioux, the lonesome stretch, the silence,

Haply to-day a mournful wail, haply a trumpet-note for heroes.

The battle-bulletin,

The Indian ambuscade, the craft, the fatal environment,

The cavalry companies fighting to the last in sternest heroism,

In the midst of their little circle, with their slaughter'd horses for breastworks,

The fall of Custer and all his officers and men.

Continues yet the old, old legend of our race,

The loftiest of life upheld by death,

The ancient banner perfectly maintain'd,

O lesson opportune, O how I welcome thee!

