MEMORIAL ODE 363 
And strains of triumph suit memorial words. 
The old-time pang becomes a thrill of joy ; 
Again we turn the page 
Of our heroic age, 
And read anew the tale of every patriot boy. 
A modest courage was their simple wont, 
The dauntless youths who grew to manhood 
here: 
Putnam and Savage, Perkins and Revere. 
It needs no helmet’s gleam, 
No armor’s glittering beam, 
No feudal imagery of shield or spear 
To gild the gallant deeds that roused us then, — 
When Cass fell dying in the battle’s front, 
And Shaw’s fair head lay ’mid his dusky men. 
II. 
All o’er the tranquil Jand 
On this Memorial Day, 
Coming from near and far, 
Men gather in the mimic guise of war. 
They bear no polished steel, 
Yet by the elbow’s touch they march, they 
wheel, 
Or side by side they stand. 
They now are peaceful men, fair Order’s sons ; 
But as they halt in motionless array, 
Or bow their heads to pray, 
Into their dream intrudes 
