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i'ip'f.;-.-,' i j Portland, ;oregon, sunday.v morning, .may 24,:,j9os , :
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The Glory of the Dead
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'Tp HE blue that speaks of youth and hope, -
I And the gray that comes ot years,
Clasp hands and meet each others eyes -
In a sad-sweet mist of tears.
Their souls grow bathed in Mem'ry's light, .
. ; As when on autumn days : . v .
; A' far-off view is dimly scanned - . :
Thro' evening's dusky haze.
.They see again the fields the camp; ;
And hear the cannon'stroar;
The voice of comrades arid of friends
;v - Now silent evermore. ' :
They help to" swell the mighty song
. ' That sings of triumph won ;
.' They hear ;their country's . loud acclaim .
For ; duty: nobly done ; v v '
So; marching. onward hereHhey-meet, ; '
; ; AVhere white' 'and 'sQent' tomb
K- Arc strewn'bykindly, gentle hands ' , - "
With Nature's fairest blooms. '
Why should riot,; then, youth's heart ; beat high
Age proudly rcar,its -had ' , '
In feelmg they've a right to share ' 1 ' '
The glory of. such dead?
; ; " : Peter Hi Boyle. '
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