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[28] So thought he, so died he, this morning.
What then? Many others have died.
Ay, but easy for men to die scorning
The death-stroke who fought side by side--

One tri-color floating above them;
Struck down ‘mid triumphant acclaims
Of America rescued to love them
And blazon the brass with their names.

But he — without witness or honor,
Mixed, shamed in his country's regard
With the traitors who march in upon her,
Died faithful and passive: 'twas hard.

'Twas sublime. In a cruel restriction
Cut off from her guerdon of sons,
With most filial obedience, conviction,
His soul kissed the lips of her guns.

That moves you? Nay, grudge not to show it
While digging a grave for him here:
The others who died, says our poet,
Have glory — let him have a tear.

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