Not so should they be rewarded,
Those noble deeds of old;
They should live forever and ever,
When the heroes' hearts are cold.
Then rally, ye brave old comrades,
Old veterans, re-unite!
Up root time's tangled grasses--
Live over the march, and the fight.
Let Grant come up from the White House,
And clasp each brother's hand,
First chieftain of the army,
Last chieftain of the land.
Let him rest from a nation's burdens,
And go, in thought, with his men,
Through the fire and smoke of Shiloh,
And save the day again.
This silent hero of battles,
Knew no such word as defeat.
It was left for the rebels learning.
Along with the word retreat.
He was not given to talking,
But he found that guns would preach
In a way that was more convincing
Than fine and flowery speech.
Three cheers for the grave commander
Of the grand old Tennessee!
Who won the first great battle--
Gained the first great victory.
His motto was always "Conquer,"
"Success" was his countersign,
And "though it took all summer,"
He kept fighting upon "that line."
Let Sherman, the stern old General,
Respond to the reveille,
Let him march with his boys through Georgia,
From "Atlanta down to the sea."
Oh, that grand old tramp to Savannah!
Three hundred miles to the coast!
It will live in the heart of the Nation,
Forever its pride and boast.
As Sheridan went to the battle.
When a score of miles away,
* He has come to the feast and banquet.
By the iron horse to-day.
Its space is not much swifter
Than the pace of that famous steed
That bore him down to the contest
And saved the day by his speed.
Then go over the ground to-day, boys,
Tread each remembered spot.
It will be a gleesome journey,
On the swift-shod feet of thought;
You can fight a bloodless battle,
You can skirmish along the route,
But it's not worthwhile to forage,
There are rations enough without.
Don't start if you hear the cannon;
It is not the sound of doom,
It does not call to the contest--
To the battle's smoke and gloom.
"Let us have Peace," was spoken.
And lo! peace ruled again;
And now the nation is shouting,
Through the cannon's voice, "Amen."
Oh, boys, who besieged old Vicksburg,
Can time e'er wash away
The triumph of her surrender,
Nine years ago to-day?
Can you ever forget the moment,
When you saw that flag of white,
That told how the grim old city
Had fallen in her might?
Ah, 'twas a bold, brave army,
When the boys with a right good will,
Went gayly marching and singing
To the fight at Champion Hill.
They met with a warm reception,
But the soul of "Old John Brown"
Was abroad on that field of battle,
And our flag did NOT go down.