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40. in Memoriam. October 21st, 1861.

The oaks whirl down their crimson leaves,
     And make the pathways red as blood;
But redder far, with ghastlier stains,
     Potomac's banks and rushing flood.

We mourn for those, the early dead,
     Who sleep in glory's crimson grave;
Still may their names a watchword be
     To the sad land they died to save.

Now, on the far Pacific's shore,
     New joined to us in heart and hand,
Sad breezes sigh, and mournfully
     The rivers roll their golden sands.

A darker burden bears that stream
     Whose waters, rolling to the sea,
Carry the tribute sealed in blood,
     Our offering paid to liberty.

In grief, in pain, and toil, and tears,
     We sow the holy seed of truth,
That, springing from the blood-drenched earth,
     Shall blossom in perennial youth.

Then rest in peace, O noble hearts,
     Who to your country's altars gave
Your youth, your swords, your lives, your all
     And died your country's life to save!

--Boston Evening Transcript, Oct. 31.

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