Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Lincoln's Grave
And, erst a rebel, I am not a saint; For dear as life the memory of those days, Those comrades, that young banner; not a taint Of shame my record holds. I speak the praise Unbounded of my camp-mates who yet live, Or those, with honor shining bright as gold, Who went to death, as to a banquet going; And proudly do I give A song to you Who kept the banner old.
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