Aye! he has fought the fight and passed away
Our grand young leader smitten in the strife,
So swift to seize the chances of the fray,
And careless only of his noble life.
He is not dead but sleepeth! Well we know
The form that lies to-day beneath the sod
Shall rise what time the golden bugles blow
And pour their music through the courts of God.
And there amid our great heroic dead,
The war-worn sons of God whose work is done!
His face shall shine, as they vith stately tread
In grand review sweep past the jasper throne.
Let not our hearts be troubled! Few and brief
His days were here, yet rich in love and faith;
Lord, we believe, help Thou our unbelief,
And grant Thy servants such a life and death!
JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER
[John Williamson Palmer was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1825. After studying medicine, he began the practice of his profes sion in San Francisco. After 1870 he resided in New York and engaged in general literary work. For a time he was editorially con nected with the Century Dictionary. His collected poems were published in 1901 under the title "For Charlie s Sake, and Other Ballads and Lyrics. He died in 1906."]
STONEWALL JACKSON S WAY
Come, stack arms, men: pile on the rails; Stir up the camp fire bright! No growling if the canteen fails: We'll make a roaring night.
