Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/54

Rh In that vast sepulchre repose
 * The thousands reaped from every fray;

The Men in Blue who once uprose In battle-front to smite their foes
 * The Spartan Bands who wore the grey;
 * The combat o'er, the death-hug done,

In summer blaze or winter snows,
 * They keep the truce at Arlington.

And almost lost in myriad graves,
 * Of those who gained the unequal fight,

Are mounds that hide Confederate braves, Who reck not how the North wind raves,
 * In dazzling day or dimmest night,
 * O'er those who lost and those who won;
 * Death holds no parley which was right—
 * Jehovah judges Arlington.

The dead had rest the Dove of Peace
 * Brooded o'er both with equal wings;

To both had come that great surcease, The last omnipotent release
 * From all the world's delirious stings.
 * To bugle deaf and signal-gun,

They slept, like heroes of old Greece,
 * Beneath the glebe at Arlington.

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