In or out of the olden bay; For the blessed patron has found his day. Such is the legend. Hear this truth: Over the trackless past, somewhere, Only recalled by prayer and plaint. Each lost day has its patron saint ! A SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY. I READ last night of the Grand Review Two Hundred Thousand men in blue, I think they said was the number,- Would only my verse encumber,- When, lo! in a vision I seemed to stand Of sheeted spectres whom some command And the streets of the city were white and bare; But out of the misty midnight air I heard in the distance a trumpet blare, Then I held my breath with fear and dread; O'erlooked the review that morning, To the phantom bugle's warning: Till it reached the Capitol square, and wheeled, Had led our patriot sires; Whose face was turned to the sleeping camp,. Afar through the river's fog and damp, Second Review of the Grand Army. 193 That showed no flicker, nor waning lamp, And I saw a phantom army come, The patriot graves of the nation. And there came the nameless dead,—the men And, marching beside the others, And so all night marched the Nation's dead, No mark-save the bare uncovered head Of the silent bronze Reviewer; With never an arch save the vaulted sky; So all night long swept the strange array; With a reverent awe and wonder,— Till a blue cap waved in the length'ning line, And I knew that one who was kin of mine Had come; and I spake—and lo! that sign Awakened me from my slumber. |