No more to party strife the slave, And freed from Hate's infernal spells, Love pays her tribute to the brave, And snows her holy immortelles O'er friend and foe, where'er his grave. On every Decoration Day The white-haired Mildred finds her mounds Decked with the garnered bloom of May-- Flowers planted first within her wounds, And fed by love as white as they. And Philip's first-born, strong and sage, Through Heaven's design or happy chance Finds the old church his heritage, And still, The Mistress of the Manse, Sits Mildred, in her silver age! End of Project Gutenberg's The Mistress of the Manse, by J. G. Holland