MEMORIAL DAY.

To sound of muffled drums to-day, With slow and solemn tread; The soldiers march with banners draped Where dwell heroic dead. The blue, the gray of this fair realm Assemble o’er this land, Recount the deeds of valiant men As one vast mourning band. The rich, the poor, the high, the low, Observe this sacred day. For all alike in days gone by Have laid some friend away. For death the mighty reaper comes To rich as well as poor. Unwelcome guest though he may be, He comes to every door. To deck the graves of dear loved ones Beneath luxuriant bow’rs, Countless willing loving hands Pluck nature’s tender flow’rs. The tokens of a reverent love For friends of that blest vale, A love the ravages of time Can never change nor pale. This day recalls much of the past— The nation’s bloody wars, The sacrifice of noble lives— To make dominant the stripes and stars. In philosophic narrative, In eulogy and praise, In honor of heroic dead The speaker’s voice doth raise. And for the country’s honor fought The black man once a slave. Encouched within the history’s folds The statement, “he was brave!” Within the marching ranks to-day Are remnants of the freed Who fought and bled upon the field When ’twas the country’s need.