IN MEMORY OF HENRY WOODFIN GRADY.
Reading edition
From the “West Shore” Portland, Oregon.
I.
AMID the wrecks of private fortunes and
The fall of commonwealths, he saw arise
A stricken people, and, with mournful eyes,
Beheld the smoke of war bedim their land,
And in its folds the fragments of a band
Erst bound, as by grim Fate, to exercise
Their judgments in the wrong and sacrifice
Against the measures Providence had planned.
Unconquered still, he saw the Southern folk,
Though awed and vanquished by the deadly jar
Of war’s deep thunder belching forth, “Ye must!”
In love this Master sought to lift the yoke
Of ignorance from the Southland, and to star
Its night with those same stars trailed in its dust!
II.
Unto the North he, as a brother, came,
And in his heart the great warm South he brought,
And as he stood and oped his mouth he wrought
The miracle of setting hearts aflame,
That leaped to crown him orator of fame,
Since in his own emboldened hand he’d caught
The golden chain of love, by many sought,
To bind our Union something more than name.
But hark! The while his eloquence did charm
The Nation’s ear, the lightnings flashed along
The wires the weeping news, “He is no more!”
Brave seer! Thou didst both North and South disarm!
Leap, lightnings, from your wires, the clouds among,
And flash his eulogy the heavens o’er!
Lee Fairchild.
Seattle, January 14, 1890.
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