A tottering figure reached the door; The brother fell upon the bed, And, in each other's arms once more, With breast to breast, and head to head,-- Twin barks, they drifted from the shore; And backward on the sobbing air Came the same words from warring lips: "God save my country!" and the prayer Still wailing from the drifting ships, Returned in measures of despair; Till far, at the horizon's verge, They passed beyond the tearful eyes That could not know if in the surge They sank at last, or in the skies Forgot the burden of their dirge! XXIX. In Northern blue and Southern brown, Twin coffins and a single grave, They laid the weary warriors down; And hands that strove to slay and save Had equal rest and like renown. For in the graveyard's hallowed close A woman's love made neutral soil, Where it might lay the forms of those Who, resting from their fateful broil, Had ceased forever to be foes. To her and those who clung to her-- From manly eldest down to least-- The obsequies, the sepulchre, The chanting choir, the weeping priest, And all the throng and all the stir Of sympathetic country-folk, And all the signs of death and dole, Were but a dream that beat and broke In chilling waves on heart and soul, Till in the silence they awoke. She was a widow, and she wept; She was a mother, and she smiled; Her faith with those she loved was kept, Though still the war-cry, fierce and wild, Around the harried country swept. No more with this had she to do; God and her little ones were left; And unto these, serene and true, She gave the life so soon bereft Of its first gifts, and rose anew At duty's call to make amends For all her loss of loves and lands; And found, to speed her noble ends, The succor of uplifting hands, And solace of a thousand friends. And o'er her precious graves she built A stone whereon the yellow boss Of sword on sword with naked hilt Lay as the symbol of her cross, In mournful meaning, carved and gilt. And underneath were graved the lines:-- "THEY DID THE DUTY THAT THEY SAW; BOTH WROUGHT AT GOD'S SUPREME DESIGNS AND, UNDER LOVE'S ETERNAL LAW, EACH LIFE WITH EQUAL BEAUTY SHINES." XXX. Peace, with its large and lilied calms, Like moonlight sleeps on land and lake, With healing in its dewy balms, For pride that pines and hearts that ache, From Huron to the land of palms! From rock-bound Massachusetts Bay To San Francisco's Golden Gate; From where Itasca's waters play, To those which plunge or palpitate A thousand happy leagues away, And drink, among her dunes and bars, The Mississippi's boiling tide, Still floating from a million spars, The nation's ensign, undefied, Blazons its galaxy of stars.