In Heaven too, each blossoming May, I think they keep Memorial Day; And not in scattered, feeble groups, But one great host of marching troops. The soldier lines are shortening here, Swiftly, sadly, year by year; But yonder, in the skies of spring, The glorious lines are lengthening. Still waves Old Glory, even there, And Heaven itself is not more fair. Still rises in that peaceful land The music of the martial band. No wounds, no weariness! they know The springing youth of long ago. Their speeding miles as stoutly run As in the days of Sixty-one. And how the shining columns cheer As mighty generals appear, Heroes of fortune's high degree, Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, and Lee! Ah, yes, and Lee; for on those plains No thought of ancient strife remains, But brotherly they march away, The comrade blue beside the gray. And thus as each recurring year The soldier lines grow shorter here, Our saddened thoughts will gladly rise To that review beyond the skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WOUNDED CUPID. SONG by ANACREON DEATH OF STONEWALL JACKSON by HENRY LYNDEN FLASH ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE: THE POWER OF MUSIC by SAMUEL LISLE ALL HAIL TO THE CZAR! by ALFRED AUSTIN THE ORPHAN'S COMPLAINT by ANNABEL HANNA BANES |