'DEAD!'

With chilling breath it comes: Again—and yet again! on every gale, America! from thy great battle field! Our hearts are hushed, and desolate our homes— Our lids are heavy, and our cheeks are pale— While thus we yield Our loved ones up to thee! Dead! dying at their posts! The young, the noble, and the loving ones! The widow's all! the gray-haired father's hope— All thine, my country! take the treasured hosts: Hold in thy faithful keeping all thy sons! We give them up— To thee and liberty! Oh, keep our honored dead Within the folds of thy great-pulsing heart! Entwine their memory with thy polished lore: Cherish the sacred dust above their bed Who sprang to shield thee from the traitor's dart! Bless evermore The dead who died for thee! Silent the teardrops fall Down the pale mother's cheek at close of day; For sorrow sitteth at the widow's gate: Dark are the shadows gathered on the wall, And where the mourner bendeth low to pray— No more to wait The coming of her free! For thee—'dear native land!' What precious hopes are severed one by one! What hearts lie crushed and sick by 'hope deferred!' How many dear ones, stretched along the sand, Bleed out their lives beneath a blighting sun— With but a word— 'Mother!' for plaint or prayer! Shall they be vainly shed— The blood and tears that wash our stricken soil? Bringing no healing with their torrent streams? Vain the long requiem for the noble dead— Vain all the agony and all the toil— The soldier's dreams— The patriot's thought and care? No! float upon the winds! Flag of my country! let thy stars give light To nations of the earth! proclaim afar The end of tyrant rule that madly binds Our millions down beneath a fearful blight! Float—every star! We have not one to spare!