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[377] The manly cheek with tears was wet—the stately head was bow'd,
     As, breaking from their shattered ranks, around his steed they crowd;
‘I did my best for you’ —'twas all those trembling lips could say,
     Ah! happy those whom death has spared the anguish of to-day.

Weep on, Virginia! weep these lives given to thy cause in vain—
     The sons who live to wear once more the Union's galling chain:
The homes whose light is quenched for aye—the graves without a stone—
     The folded flag—the broken sword—the hope forever flown.

Yet raise thy head, fair land, thy dead died bravely for the right—
     The folded flag is stainless still—the broken sword is bright;
No blot is on thy record found—no treason soils thy fame!
     Weep thou thy dead—with cover'd head we mourn our England's shame.

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