SIOUX SONGS: THE CEMETERY by AGNES KENDRICK GRAY

Here Lincoln stood, in strong simplicity,
And spoke the brief immortal word that rings
Forever over earth and over sea,
With echo of all brief immortal things.
Beneath these numbered stones how many sleep
Who beat against the bolted gates of death,
And entered in so swiftly none might keep
Their names that vanished with their yielded breath!
But not in vain these unknown dead have died,
Nor those whose names are clearly carven there.
Above their rest, the wings of Love are wide . . .
There is a sense of glory in the air.
Here Lincoln stood, on this blood-quickened sod,
And gave himself, these graves, this Land, to God.

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