Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/53

 AT ARLINGTON

The broken column, reared in air
 * To him who made our country great,

Can almost cast its shadow where The victims of a grand despair,
 * In long, long ranks of death await
 * The last loud trump, the Judgment-Sun,
 * Which come for all, and, soon or late,
 * Will come for those at Arlington.

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