Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/25

Rh Gentlest and bravest in the battle's brunt,
 * The Champion of the Truth

He won banner in the very front
 * Of our immortal youth.

A clang of sabres 'mid Virginian snow,
 * The fiery pang of shells—

And there's a wail of immemorial woe
 * In Alabama dells.

The pennon droops that led the sacred band
 * Along the crimson field;

The meteor blade sinks from the nerveless hand
 * Over the spotless shield.

We gazed and gazed upon that beauteous face,
 * While 'round the lips and eyes,

Couched in their marble slumber, flashed the grace
 * Of a divine surprise.

O Mother of a blessed soul on high!
 * Thy tears may soon be shed—

Think of thy boy with princes of the sky,
 * Among the Southern Dead.

How must he smile on this dull world beneath,
 * Favored with swift renown;

He with the martyr's amaranthine wreath
 * Twining the victor's crown!

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