Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/152

VII.

    Yet not of them alone
    Round each memorial stone
Shall the proud breezes whisper as they pass,
    Rustling the faded leaves
    On chilly autumn eves,
And swaying tenderly the sheltering grass!
    O ye who on this field
    Knew not the joy to yield
Your young, glad; lives in glorious conflict up;
    Ye who as bravely fought,
    Ye who as grandly wrought,
Draining with them war's darkly bitter cup,
    As long as stars endure
    And God and Truth are sure;
    While Love still claims its own,
    While Honor holds its throne
    And Valor hath a name,
    Still shall these stony pages
    Repeat to all the ages
    The story of your fame!

VIII.

O beautiful one, my Country,
Thou fairest daughter of Time,
To-day are thine eyes unclouded
In the light of a faith sublime!
No thunder of battle appals thee;
From thy woe thou hast found release;
From the graves of thy sons steals only
This one soft whisper,—"Peace!"