Spare of your flowers to deck the stranger's grave, Who died for a lost cause ·

A soul more daring, resolute, and brave,
Ne'er won a world's applause.

A brave man's hatred pauses at the tomb.

For him some Southern home was robed in gloom, Some wife or mother looked with longing eyes Through the sad days and nights with tears and sighs,

Hope slowly hardening into gaunt Despair.

Then let your foeman's grave remembrance share: Pity a higher charm to Valor lends,

And in the realms of Sorrow all are friends.

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY1

FRANCIS MILES FINCH

Francis Miles Finch (1827-1907), jurist and educator, first showed his poetic ability when he delivered a memorable class poem upon his graduation at Yale in 1849. "The Blue and the Gray" appeared in the Atlantic Monthly in 1867. It was inspired by the fact that the women of Columbus, Mississippi, had shown themselves impartial in their tributes to the memory of the dead by placing flowers on the graves of both Confederate and Union soldiers.

By the flow of the inland river,

Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,

1 From The Blue and the Gray and Other Verses. Henry Holt and Company. Used by permission.

Asleep are the ranks of the dead:
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;
Under the one, the Blue;
Under the other, the Gray.

These in the robings of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the battle-blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the Judgment Day;
Under the laurel, the Blue;

Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours The desolate mourners go,

Lovingly laden with flowers

Alike for the friend and the foe:

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;

Under the roses, the Blue;
Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all:
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue;
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the Judgment Day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done,
In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the Judgment Day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue;
Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever

When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;
Love and tears for the Blue;

Tears and love for the Gray.

WE KEEP MEMORIAL DAY1

KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD

Mrs. Kate Brownlee Sherwood (1841-1914) was the founder of the Woman's Relief Corps and served as its second president. She is best known as the author of army lyrics and poems written for the celebration of military occasions.

WHEN the May has culled her flowers for the summer waiting long,

And the breath of early roses woos the hedges into

song,

Comes the throb of martial music and the banners

in the street,

And the marching of the millions bearing garlands fair and sweet

'Tis the Sabbath of the Nation, 'tis the floral feast of May!

In remembrance of our heroes
We keep Memorial Day.

They are sleeping in the valleys, they are sleeping 'neath the sea,

They are sleeping by the thousands till the royal reveille;

Let us know them, let us name them, let us honor one and all,

1 Used by permission of Isaac R. Sherwood.

For they loved us and they saved us, springing at the bugle call;

Let us sound the song and cymbal, wreathe the immortelles and bay.

In the fervor of thanksgiving

We keep Memorial Day.

THE SOLDIERS' RECESSIONAL1

JOHN H. FINLEY

John H. Finley (1863-) is an educator of international reputation. He has received honors from foreign governments, and at home has been appointed to serve on various educational commissions. As president of the University of the State of New York, Mr. Finley still finds time for occasional verse writing, for editing an important encyclopedia, and for numerous services to the cause of general education.

Down from the choir with feebled step and slow, Singing their brave recessional they go,

Gray, broken, choristers of war,

Bearing aloft before their age-dimmed eyes,
As 'twere their cross for sign of sacrifice,
The flags which they in battle bore-

Down from the choir where late with hoarse throats

sang

1 From Scribner's Magazine. Copyright, 1905, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Used by permission of the author.