History of Antietam National Cemetery (Poem - page 53)

Of Lincoln wear a tender glow
As on this scene he gazes now.
I feel a God-like presence near—
The Great Emancipator's here !
0 death ! where is thy sting? 0 grave !
Where is thy victory o'er the brave?
Not with dim sight and tottering frame,
They sought the dust from which they came.
With eye whose flash seemed of the storm,
And war embodied in each form,
They marched at Glory's clarion call
To graves as to a banquet hall ;
And though sweet voices filled each wind
Frome home, cast not one look behind.
Through such heroic souls as those
The Lord of Hosts his God-head shows !

Over them no mournful requiem floats.
But bugles peal their loudest notes,
As to the heaven of Fame they march
Beneath our flag—its rainbow arch,
With an eternal furlough blest,
Sweet, sweet shall be the patriot's rest
Fatigued with toil whose fruits sublime
Are budding on the bough of Time,
And while above these sainted brave
One stripe of their old flag shall wave,
This consecrated spot will be
A sacred Mecca of the free.