THE IRISH SOLDIER AT GRANT’S GRAVE.

GREAT chieftain, o’er thy silent clay Unite in tears the Blue and Gray, Grief knows no frontier line to-day. Among the gifts the nation showers Upon thy tomb blooms verdant ours— A shamrock wreath among the flowers. A type its emerald leaflets three Of thy best attributes will be— Faith, Courage, and Humanity. Faith in the right, whate’er oppose, Courage that with disaster rose, Mercy to brave but beaten foes. When danger threatened Freedom’s shrine In her defence with thee and thine Our exiled race were found in line. With thee we bore the storm and stress, Hard-fought retreat and onward press Of Vicksburg and the Wilderness. Thy eagle glances oft might scan Our Celtic features in the van When battle surged round Sheridan. And never poured the crimson flood, To mark where desperate valor stood, But with the tide ebbed Irish blood. So as your life-stream then we fed, Where’er your own brave nation bled, Our tears to-day with hers are shed. Our steel shone ’mid your bayonets, Our grief now sobs with your regrets, Our shamrocks fringe your violets.