THE MUSTER ROLLS
When treason, veiled in fair disguise,
And clad in robes of state,
Invoked the sword to cut the ties
That made a nation great,
Wisconsin sounded the alarm,
And beat the battle-drum:
Men heard from office, mill and farm,
And answered, "Lo! we come."
Down from the rugged northern pines,
Up from the eastern coast;
From riverside and southern mines,
Comes forth the loyal host.
From Gainesville thru the wilderness
They march with fearless tread,
And leave behind, as on they press,
An army of the dead.
Beneath the blue—above the green,
Mid flowers of fairest hue,
We honor now with reverent mien,
The men who wore the blue.
The story of the rolls is told.
The records, worn and gray,
Like veterans, are growing old,
And soon shall pass away.
But deeds of valor for a cause
So just, shall ever shine,
And loyalty to righteous laws
Shall live, because divine.