The Funeral Of Grant

Watcher on the hills of morn: what signs dost thou espy:
A flag upon a fortress and a glory in the sky.
O soldier on the fortress: what of the breaking morn?
The flag I serve is gemmed with stars from heaven's banner shorn.
O Hag of stars: how art thou watched that wavest thus unmarred
No soldier bears a shotted gun, though a million are on guard.
O million sons with shotless guns: why do the cannons boom?
The morning light, the cannon flash both glorify a tomb.
Morning light of lusty life: why shine'st thou on decay?
I shine upon the soul of him whom death can never slay.
O morn-lit soul immortal: what do the cannons sing?
Their iron lips are tuned to peace and gentle comforting.
Land he saved to Freedom: what sayest thou o'er his clay?
He sleeps on the heights, but ever he guards us night and day.