We call you, O men of the kilt and the tartan, From highland and lowland, from mountain and mere-- Though you feel for your country the love of a Spartan, A sunnier home and a welcome is here; Must you cling to the fields where the gorse and the heather That bloomed for your grandsires still blossom for you? Cannot hopes that await you here loosen the tether Which a birthright descended has cast over you? There is room, there is work for the peer and the peasant, From the land of the shamrock, the olive, and vine, You may lift up unquestioned the cross with the crescent, Or the lilies of France with the thistle-bloom twine. No prosy pen could have indited those picturesque and stirring lines. In his Centennial Hymn, "The Victory of Peace," in "The Blue and the Gray," "Under Two Flags," "Gettysburg" and other poems, his muse dons American colors and echoes the national note of peace and unity. "Now another flag is o'er us, And the bitter hate that tore us, From beneath its shadow falters, Let us raise the olden altars, Let us smite the wretch who palters With the tie that binds forever Those who lost and won together, While their banners live in story, Haloed with a common glory." GETTYSBURG. 1863 * * * * * We see those splendid columns sweep Across the field. Men hold their breath; Before them frowns the sullen steep, Before and near is life or death. * * * * * They are not such as break and fly, No laggards droop, no cowards quail, Those only pause who drop and die Beneath that storm of leaden hail. * * * * * 'Tis sunset. For the Blue, a gleam Of glory fills the dying day; From clouds above that sunset stream Another glory for the Gray. 1887 * * * * * They meet again--not steel to steel, But hand to hand and breast to breast, Hailed by the cannon's peaceful peal-- The Blue the host, the Gray the guest. * * * * * And so they share--the brave and true, The glory of that fateful day; The Gray the glory of the Blue, The Blue the glory of the Gray. * * * * * 'Tis sunset. From yon heaven away Fades every golden, purple hue; O'er host and guest, the twilight gray Blends with the evening sky of blue. In "McMahon at Sedan" he strikes the martial measure with trumpet note. Many more stirring war lyrics could not easily be found.