From the silence of sorrowful hours The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers Alike for the friend and the foe: So, with an equal splendor, So, when the summer calleth, Waiting the judgment day; Sadly, but not with upbraiding, The generous deed was done, In the storm of the years that are fading No braver battle was won: 5 10 Under the sod and the dew, Under the garlands, the Gray. No more shall the war cry sever, When they laurel the graves of the dead! HENRY TIMROD AT MAGNOLIA CEMETERY Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, In seeds of laurel in the earth The blossom of your fame is blown, Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years Which keep in trust your storied tombs, |