The Blue And the Grey: a poem about the Civil War

The Blue And The Gray
Francis Miles Finch (1827-1907)

By the flow of the inland river,Whence the fleets of iron have fled,Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,Asleep are the ranks of the dead:Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment-day;Under the one, the Blue,Under the other, the GrayThese in the robings of glory,Those in the gloom of defeat,All with the battle-blood gory,In the dusk of eternity meet:Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgement-dayUnder the laurel, the Blue,Under the willow, the Gray.
From the silence of sorrowful hoursThe desolate mourners go,Lovingly laden with flowersAlike for the friend and the foe;Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgement-day;Under the roses, the Blue,Under the lilies, the Gray.
So with an equal splendor,The morning sun-rays fall,With a touch impartially tender,On the blossoms blooming for all:Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment-day;Broidered with gold, the Blue,Mellowed with gold, the Gray.
So, when the summer calleth,On forest and field of grain,With an equal murmur fallethThe cooling drip of the rain:Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment -day,Wet with the rain, the BlueWet with the rain, the Gray.
Sadly, but not with upbraiding,The generous deed was done,In the storm of the years that are fadingNo braver battle was won:Under the sod adn the dew,Waiting the judgment-day;Under the blossoms, the Blue,Under the garlands, the Gray
No more shall the war cry sever,Or the winding rivers be red;They banish our anger foreverWhen they laurel the graves of our dead!Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment-day,Love and tears for the Blue,Tears and love for the Gray.