Old soldiers true, ah, them all men can trust, Who fought, with conscience clear, on either side; Who bearded Death and thought their cause was just; Their stainless honor cannot be denied; All patriots they beyond the farthest doubt; Ring it and sing it up and down the land, And let no voice dare answer it with sneers, Or shut its meaning out; Ring it and sing it, we go hand in hand, Old infantry, old cavalry, old cannoneers. And if Virginia’s vales shall ring again To battle-yell of Moseby or Mahone, If Wilder’s wild brigade or Morgan’s men Once more wheel into line; or all alone A Sheridan shall ride, a Cleburne fall,— There will not be two flags above them flying, But both in one, welded in that pure flame Upflaring in us all, When kindred unto kindred, loudly crying, Rally and cheer in freedom’s holy name!
A Prophecy
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