Classic Poem

All's peace to-day at Beecher Isle,
And cattle stand knee-deep
In that bright stream, once stained with red,
Where human life was cheap;
No war-whoops echo mile on mile —
All's peace to-day at Beecher Isle.

The lark upon the barren hills
Once cowered in affright,
When came the horrid clash of arms
That told of Forsyth's fight;
No more shall foe match wile with wile —
All's peace to-day at Beecher Isle.

The guns that spoke are silent now;
Keen eyes are closed, alas!
The trail of vanished redskinned hosts
Is overgrown with grass;
But Memory shall abide the while —
All's peace to-day at Beecher Isle.