Of little the storm has reft us But the brave and kindly clay ('Tis but dust where Lander left us, And but turf where Lyon lay). There's Winthrop, true to the end, And Ellsworth of long ago, (First fair young head laid low!) There 's Baker, the brave old friend, And Douglas, the friendly foe: (Baker, that still stood up When 'twas death on either hand: "'Tis a soldier's part to stoop, But the Senator must stand.") The heroes gather and form:-- There's Cameron, with his scars, Sedgwick, of siege and storm, And Mitchell, that joined his stars. Winthrop, of sword and pen, Wadsworth, with silver hair, Mansfield, ruler of men, And brave McPherson are there. Birney, who led so long, Abbott, born to command, Elliott the bold, and Strong, Who fell on the hard-fought strand. Lytle, soldier and bard, And the Ellets, sire and son, Ransom, all grandly scarred, And Redfield, no more on guard, (But Alatoona is won!) Reno, of pure desert, Kearney, with heart of flame, And Russell, that hid his hurt Till the final death-bolt came. Terrill, dead where he fought, Wallace, that would not yield, And Sumner, who vainly sought A grave on the foughten field (But died ere the end he saw, With years and battles outworn). There's Harmon of Kenesaw, And Ulric Dahlgren, and Shaw, That slept with his Hope Forlorn. Bayard, that knew not fear, (True as the knight of yore,) And Putnam, and Paul Revere, Worthy the names they bore. Allen, who died for others, Bryan, of gentle fame, And the brave New-England brothers That have left us Lowell's name. Home, at last, from the wars,-- Stedman, the staunch and mild, And Janeway, our hero-child, Home, with his fifteen scars! There's Porter, ever in front, True son of a sea-king sire, And Christian Foote, and Dupont (Dupont, who led his ships Rounding the first Ellipse Of thunder and of fire). There's Ward, with his brave death-wounds, And Cummings, of spotless name, And Smith, who hurtled his rounds When deck and hatch were aflame; Wainwright, steadfast and true, Rodgers, of brave sea-blood, And Craven, with ship and crew Sunk in the salt sea flood. And, a little later to part, Our Captain, noble and dear-- (Did they deem thee, then, austere? Drayton!--O pure and kindly heart! Thine is the seaman's tear.) All such,--and many another, (Ah, list how long to name!) That stood like brother by brother, And died on the field of fame. And around--(for there can cease This earthly trouble)--they throng, The friends that had passed in peace, The foes that have seen their wrong.