Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By John RandolphThompson440 Ashby
T
Weep, ye skies of June!
With a radiance pure and tender,
Shine, O saddened moon;
“Dead upon the field of glory,”
Hero fit for song and story,
Lies our bold dragoon.
Braver, knightlier foe
Never fought ’gainst Moor or Paynim—
Rode at Templestowe:
With a mien how high and joyous,
’Gainst the hordes that would destroy us
Went he forth, we know.
Gleam around his crest;
Fought his fight, fulfilled his labor,
Stilled his manly breast;
All unheard sweet nature’s cadence,
Trump of fame and voice of maidens;
Now he takes his rest.
Gently wrap his clay!
Linger lovingly around him,
Light of dying day!
Softly fall, ye summer showers;
Birds and bees among the flowers
Make the gloom seem gay.
When his sword is rust,
And his deeds in classic pages—
Mindful of her trust
Shall Virginia, bending lowly,
Still a ceaseless vigil holy
Keep above his dust.