(Baker, that still stood up
When 'twas death on either hand:
"'Tis a soldier's part to stoop,
But the Senator must stand.")
The heroes gather and form:—
There's Cameron, with his scars,
Sedgwick, of siege and storm,
And Mitchell, that joined his stars.
Winthrop, of sword and pen,
Wadsworth, with silver hair,
Mansfield, ruler of men,
And brave McPherson are there.
Birney, who led so long,
Abbott, born to command,
Elliott the bold, and Strong,
Who fell on the hard-fought strand.
Lytle, soldier and bard,
And the Ellets, sire and son,
Ransom, all grandly scarred,
And Redfield, no more on guard,
(But Alatoona is won!)
Reno, of pure desert,
Kearney, with heart of flame,
And Russell, that hid his hurt
Till the final death-bolt came.
Terrill, dead where he fought,
Wallace, that would not yield,
And Sumner, who vainly sought
A grave on the foughten field
(But died ere the end he saw,
With years and battles outworn).
There's Harmon of Kenesaw,
And Ulric Dahlgren, and Shaw,
That slept with his Hope Forlorn.
Bayard, that knew not fear,
(True as the knight of yore,)
And Putnam, and Paul Revere,
Worthy the names they bore.
Allen, who died for others,
Bryan, of gentle fame,
And the brave New-England brothers
That have left us Lowell's name.
Home, at last, from the wars,—
Stedman, the staunch and mild,
And Janeway, our hero-child,
Home, with his fifteen scars!