Veterans
One word on our lips, and but one to-day;
One word in our hearts as we gather here,
Enshrined in our annals to live for aye,
To freedom and freemen forever dear.
But how shall we utter with reverence meet
That word where emotions are more than speech?
Where martyred heroes comrades greet,
Their answers from Heaven's high ramparts reach:
Go, speak it in whispers where daisies free
On a million mounds with dews are wet!
Herald with trumpet from sea to sea
The word that a nation will not forget!
Attune it to music that thrills the soul
With old-time fervor remembered yet!
The smoke-stained banner again unroll!
The stars in their courses will not forget.
Engrave it in marble of purest white;
In granite columns its letters set;
Ay, trace it with pencils of living light
The blue-domed heavens will not forget.
These walls proclaim it in glory; behold!
A loyal welcome to noble sons;
Through floral lips to brothers bold
One word, and that word—“Veterans.”
We bow before it; our all is there—
Our flag, our freedom, our land and pride,
Our country's fame and promise fair—
The world's great future with outlook wide.
For that banner is more than painted gauze;
It voices the hopes of a thousand years—
A registered charter of sacred laws,
Full covenant purchased with blood and tears.
You know its value, survivors few—
Three hundred now of a thousand then,
Who marched from our camp in proud review;
The star-dotted roll-call read again.
Absent! Sleeping at Camp Parapet,
On Chalmette field and at Quarantine,
With salt-driven spray the roster is wet,
At Port Hudson's dismal and wild ravine—
Where brave men spoke with bated breath,
As brothers fell in that murderous blast;
Where fate shook leaden dice with death,
And cheeks grew pale as the die was cast.
A black steed dashes across the plain,
With foam-flecked bridle streaming free,
A gallant and noble soldier slain,
Your leader through centuries yet to be.
Who, fighting, “fell with face to the foe,”
And sent it a message to sorrowing souls—
Imperial sentence! with Spartan glow,
On record immortal—our brave Colonel Cowles.
Ah, well we recall the silent street,
When that horse was led to the hero's grave,
With army-cloak on saddle-seat,
And the flag that he gave life to save.
And well we remember your record, boys,
In the years that followed when days were dark,
As through the Red Sea with steady poise
Our citizen soldiers bore Liberty's ark.
And children's children your deeds will relate,
And cherish your memories ever dear,
The gallant One Hundred and Twenty-Eighth,
Who in days of peril answered—“Here!”
Ay, long as the stately Hudson flows,
Or the Catskills sentinel-duty keep,
While Roeleffe Jansen singing goes,
And binds our counties in crystal sweep;
Till the fame of our fathers has faded away,
Till the stars of the old dear banner set,
Till the gold of the sunlight is sprinkled with gray—
Columbia and Dutchess will not forget.
One word in our hearts as we gather here,
Enshrined in our annals to live for aye,
To freedom and freemen forever dear.
But how shall we utter with reverence meet
That word where emotions are more than speech?
Where martyred heroes comrades greet,
Their answers from Heaven's high ramparts reach:
Go, speak it in whispers where daisies free
On a million mounds with dews are wet!
Herald with trumpet from sea to sea
The word that a nation will not forget!
Attune it to music that thrills the soul
With old-time fervor remembered yet!
The smoke-stained banner again unroll!
The stars in their courses will not forget.
Engrave it in marble of purest white;
In granite columns its letters set;
Ay, trace it with pencils of living light
The blue-domed heavens will not forget.
These walls proclaim it in glory; behold!
A loyal welcome to noble sons;
Through floral lips to brothers bold
One word, and that word—“Veterans.”
We bow before it; our all is there—
Our flag, our freedom, our land and pride,
Our country's fame and promise fair—
The world's great future with outlook wide.
For that banner is more than painted gauze;
It voices the hopes of a thousand years—
A registered charter of sacred laws,
Full covenant purchased with blood and tears.
You know its value, survivors few—
Three hundred now of a thousand then,
Who marched from our camp in proud review;
The star-dotted roll-call read again.
Absent! Sleeping at Camp Parapet,
On Chalmette field and at Quarantine,
With salt-driven spray the roster is wet,
At Port Hudson's dismal and wild ravine—
Where brave men spoke with bated breath,
As brothers fell in that murderous blast;
Where fate shook leaden dice with death,
And cheeks grew pale as the die was cast.
A black steed dashes across the plain,
With foam-flecked bridle streaming free,
A gallant and noble soldier slain,
Your leader through centuries yet to be.
Who, fighting, “fell with face to the foe,”
And sent it a message to sorrowing souls—
Imperial sentence! with Spartan glow,
On record immortal—our brave Colonel Cowles.
Ah, well we recall the silent street,
When that horse was led to the hero's grave,
With army-cloak on saddle-seat,
And the flag that he gave life to save.
And well we remember your record, boys,
In the years that followed when days were dark,
As through the Red Sea with steady poise
Our citizen soldiers bore Liberty's ark.
And children's children your deeds will relate,
And cherish your memories ever dear,
The gallant One Hundred and Twenty-Eighth,
Who in days of peril answered—“Here!”
Ay, long as the stately Hudson flows,
Or the Catskills sentinel-duty keep,
While Roeleffe Jansen singing goes,
And binds our counties in crystal sweep;
Till the fame of our fathers has faded away,
Till the stars of the old dear banner set,
Till the gold of the sunlight is sprinkled with gray—
Columbia and Dutchess will not forget.
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