The Poetry Corner

The Dying Hero.

By Freeman Edwin Miller

His greatness hath not left him; till the years Have won the nation from her children dead, And robbed her of remembrance where she rears Her monuments above the blood they shed, Will his name want for homage; with sad fears The Union winds her garlands o'er his head, And fondly wreathes her love, bedewed with tears, To bless the hero on his dying bed. His luster lives untarnished; as he lies Where Malady has bound him in wild pain, And only Death can loose the heavy chain That galls her captive while his nature dies, He seems far greater in his country's eyes, Than if an Appomattox spake again.