MEMORIAL
The Northern Blue--The Southern Gray
[BY DAMON HARVEY]
Wherever comrades may repose,
free from the bugle's call,
As heroes, they in mem'ry live,
torn, scar'd by steel and ball;
There let us meet and mingle tears
in unison to-day,
And scatter floral wreaths, alike,
upon the blue and gray.
The few remaining "Vets," with pride
and trembling, tottering tread
All join to decorate the graves
of our heroic dead.
The breach of peace that once prevailed,
from age, has died away,
The tears of love are shed the same
upon the blue and gray.
With din of battle on their ear,
the scenes of war in mind,
Our brave defenders, aged, gray,
are dropping out of line.
E're long the "taps," will call the last
true Soldier boy away,
Who may have worn the Northern blue--
perhaps the Southern gray.
No slab of granite marks the spot
where the warriors rest;
No loving hands with garlands fair
to lay upon their breast;
But yet the stars that guard each mound
of consecrated clay,
Smile down with equal rays of love
on both the blue and gray.
They laid their guns and swords aside
with many a manly shout;
From earthly service, one by one,
were gently mustered out.
And as the flowers of May adorn
their silent graves to-day,
Our Nation clasps the hands of peace
o'er both the blue and gray.
Source: Crittenden Record-Press. (Marion, Ky.), May 27, 1909, Image 3 - Chronicling America - The Library of Congress.