Page:In Bohemia (1886).djvu/99

The Army of Potomac never lay-
So full of strength as in its camp to-day!

On fatal Chæronea's field the Greeks
A lion raised—a sombre tomb that speaks
No word, no name,—an emblem of the pride
Of those that ruled the insect host that died.

But by her soldiers' graves Columbia proves
How fast toward morn the night of manhood moves.
Those low white lines at Gettysburg remain
The sacred record of her humblest slain,
Whose children's children in their time shall come
To view with pride their hero-father's tomb,
While down the ages runs the patriot line.
Till rich tradition makes each tomb a shrine.

Our standing army these, with spectre glaives;
Our fortressed towns their battle-ordered graves.
Here sleep our valiant, sown like dragon's teeth;
Here new-born sons renew the pious wreath;