BY ANNIE M. TOOHEY.
Let us cover their rusty old sabres
'Neath the radiant flowers of May,
And hide all the stains of the banners
That wave o'er their ashes to-day;
As the angel of rest spreads her pinions
Softly over wherever they sleep,
On the beautiful shrines of the hillside
Or under the waves of the deep.
Far beyond the red fields of the battle,
And the chill of the trenches afar,
Peace hath hidden their death-wounds forever
And glorified every scar.
Where the tablets of Heaven recorded
Not alone the brave deeds of a fray,
But the crowing of souls undivided
From the ranks of our lost Blue and Gray.
Troy Times. May 30, 1904: 7 col 2.