commander’s death.
No more for him life’s stormy conflicts, Nor victory, nor defeat—no more time’s dark events, Charging like ceaseless clouds across the sky.
But sing poet in our name, Sing of the love we bore him—because you, dweller in camps, know it truly.
As they invault the coffin there, Sing—as they close the doors of earth upon him—one verse, For the heavy hearts of soldiers.
This Dust Was Once the Man
This dust was once the man, Gentle, plain, just and resolute, under whose cautious hand, Against the foulest crime in history known in any land or age, Was saved the Union of these States.