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[358]

XVII.

Time shall not dim their memory. The web
     The spider weaves may hang across the mouth
Of the dismantled cannon, and the ebb
     And flow of erstwhile battle in the South
Be but the shadowy gleam
     Of a long-vanished dream;
But ever over all this shaft shall loom supreme,

XVIII.

Silently telling in majestic beauty
     Through all the years the story of their faith,
Their love of Truth, of Freedom, and of Duty—
     Transcendant Love, triumphant over Death!
Harm now can reach them never:
     Their fame is sure forever
While stands the sacred Hill, or flows the shining River.


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