The boy's young faith he still Retained through years mature-- The faith to labor, hand and will, Nor doubt the harvest sure-- The harvest of man's love-- A nation's joy that swells To heights of Song, or deeps whereof But sacred silence tells. To him his Country seemed Even as a Mother, where He rested--slept; and once he dreamed-- As on her bosom there-- And thrilled to hear, within That dream of her, the call Of bugles and the clang and din Of war.... And o'er it all His rapt eyes caught the bright Old Banner, winging wild And beck'ning him, as to the fight ... When--even as a child-- He wakened--And the dream Was real! And he leapt As led the proud Flag through a gleam Of tears the Mother wept. His was a tender hand-- Even as a woman's is-- And yet as fixed, in Right's command, As this bronze hand of his: This was the Soldier brave-- This was the Victor fair-- This is the Hero Heaven gave To glory here--and There. BENJAMIN HARRISON ON THE UNVEILING OF HIS MONUMENT AT INDIANAPOLIS OCTOBER 27, 1908 As tangible a form in History The Spirit of this man stands forth as here He towers in deathless sculpture, high and clear Against the bright sky of his destiny. Sprung of our oldest, noblest ancestry, His pride of birth, as lofty as sincere, Held kith and kin, as Country, ever dear-- Such was his sacred faith in you and me. Thus, natively, from youth his work was one Unselfish service in behalf of all-- Home, friends, and sharers of his toil and stress; Ay, loving all men and despising none, And swift to answer every righteous call, His life was one long deed of worthiness. The voice of Duty's faintest whisper found Him as alert as at her battle-cry-- When awful War's battalions thundered by, High o'er the havoc still he heard the sound Of mothers' prayers and pleadings all around; And ever the despairing sob and sigh Of stricken wives and orphan children's cry Made all our Land thrice consecrated ground. So rang his "Forward!" and so swept his sword-- On!--on!--till from the fire-and-cloud once more Our proud Flag lifted in the glad sunlight As though the very Ensign of the Lord Unfurled in token that the strife was o'er, And victory--as ever--with the right. LEE O. HARRIS CHRISTMAS DAY--1909 O say not he is dead, The friend we honored so; Lift up a grateful voice instead And say: He lives, we know-- We know it by the light Of his enduring love Of honor, valor, truth, and right, And man, and God above.