1.By the flow of the inland river,Whence the fleets of iron have fled,Where the blades of the grave grass quiver,Asleep are the ranks of the dead;-Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment day;Under the one,the Blue;Under the other,the Gray.
2.These,in the robings of glory,Those,in the gloom of defeat,All,with the battle blood gory,In the dusk of eternity meet;- Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment day;Under the laurel,the Blue;Under the willow,the Gray.
3.From the silence of sorrowful hours,The desolate mourners go,Lovingly laden with flowers,Alike for the friend and the foe;- Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment day;Under the roses,the Blue;Under the lilies,the Gray.
4.So,with an equal splendor,The morning sun rays fall,With a touch,impartially tender,On the blossoms blooming for all;- Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment day;Broidered with gold,the Blue;Mellowed with gold,the Gray.
5.So,when the summer calleth,On forest and field of grain,With an equal murmur falleth The cooling drip of the rain;-Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment day;Wet with the rain,the Blue;Wet with the rain,the Gray.
6.Sadly,but not with upbraiding,The generous deed was done:In the storm of the years that are fading,Nbraver battle was won;-Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment day;Under the blossoms,the Blue;Under the garlands,the Gray.
7.Nmore shall the war cry sever,Or the winding rivers be red;They banish our anger forever,When they laurel the graves of our dead;- Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment day;Love and tears,for the Blue;Tears and love,for the Gray.
-F. M. Finch.
