A Dirge for McPherson: Killed in front of Atlanta

Arms reversed and banners craped--
Muffled drums;
Snowy horses sable-draped--
McPherson comes.

But, tell us, shall we know him more,
Lost-Mountain and lone Kenesaw?

Brave the sword upon the pall--
A gleam in gloom;
So a bright name lighteth all
McPherson’s doom.

Bear him through the chapel-door--
Let priest in stole
Pace before the warrior
Who led. Bell--toll!

Lay him down within the nave,
The Lesson read--
Man is noble, man is brave,
But man’s--a weed.

Take him up again and wend
Graveward, nor weep:
There’s a trumpet that shall rend
This Soldier’s sleep.

Pass the ropes the coffin round,
And let descend;
Prayer and volley--let it sound
McPherson’s end.

True fame is his, for life is o’er--
Sarpedon of the mighty war.