James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902.
May 30The Rear Guard
By Irene Fowler BrownT
With wars red flood May’s breath of peace is shed,
And, spring’s young grass and gracious flowers are growing
Above the dead.
Honor to you, honor and love and trust!
Brave to the brave! Your soldier hands are meeting
Across their dust.
In cannon’s crash, in screech and scream of shell;
Bravely they fell, who lay alone and dying
In battle’s hell.
Up through the soil peace blooms to meet the sun,
And daisied heads to summer winds are singing
Their long “well done.”
At battle’s din, at joy of bugle’s call.
They fell with smiles, the flood of young life gushing,
Full brave the fall!
And bugle’s call and wave of flag were done,
Could come back home, so long left undefended.
Your cause unwon,
And twist the useless sword to hook of reaping,
Rebuild the homes, set back the empty chair
And brave a land where waste and want were keeping
Guard everywhere.
And out of ashes, wreck, a new land ’rose,
Through years of war no braver battle won you,
’Gainst fiercer foes.
And lifting up her voice in lusty pride
For you gray men, who fought and wrought, not fearing
Battle’s red tide.
Our rear guard, ye whose step is slowing, slowing,
Whose ranks, earth thinned, are filling otherwhere,
Who wore the gray—the gray, alas! still showing
On bleaching hair.
For forty years you’ve been its bulwark, stay;
Tarry awhile; pause yet a little longer
Upon the way.
And set our faces straight on duty’s track,
Where there may be for stray, strange goods no yearning
Nor looking back.
And on death’s silent field you’ve pitched your tent,
When, bowed through tears, the arc of life has rounded
To full content,
Our heritage no years can take away,
That we were born of those, unflinching, loyal,
Who wore the gray.