Then passed from sight the heavenly guest, And from the mountain-top again Took its far flight from North to South, Above the homes of men.
But still, where’er it went, it saw The starry banners half mast high, And tower and turret hung with black Against the reddening sky!
Still saw long ranks of armèd men Who for the blue had worn the gray— Still saw the sad processions pass, Darkening the summer day!
“Was this their conqueror whom you mourn?” The angel said to one who kept Lone watch where, deep in grass-grown graves, Young Southern soldiers slept.
“Victor, yet friend,” the answer came, “Even theirs who here their life-blood poured! He, when the bitter field was won, Was first to sheathe the sword,
And cry: ‘O brothers, take my hand— Brave foemen, let us be at peace! O’er all the undivided land Let clash of conflict cease!’”
The wondering angel went its way From world to world, from star to star, Where planet unto planet turned, And suns blazed out afar.
“Learn, learn, O universe,” it cried, “How great is he whose foemen lay Their love and homage at his feet, On this—his burial day!”