Let fall, O South, your leaves of palm, O North, your sprigs of pine!
But when with every ripened year, we keep the harvest home,
And to the dear Thanksgiving feast our sons and daughters come,
When children’s children throng the board in the old homestead spread,
And the bent soldier of these wars is seated at the head,
Long, long the lads shall listen to hear the graybeard tell,
Of those who fought at Gettysburg, and stood their ground so well;
“’Twas for the Union and the flag!” the veteran shall say,
“Our grand old army held the ridge, and won that glorious day!”
Edmund Clarence Stedman.