General Polk.
‘ A flash from the edge of a hostile trench,A puff of smoke — a roar
Whose echo shall roll from the Kennesaw hills
To the farthermost Christian shore,
Proclaims to the world that the warrior priest
Will battle for right no more,
And that for a cause which is sanctified
By the blood of martyrs unknown--
A cause for which they gave their lives
And for which he gave his own--
He kneels, a meek ambassador,
At the foot of the Father's Throne.
And up in the courts of another world.
That angels alone have trod,
He lives, away from the din and strife
Of this blood-besprinkled son,
Crowned with the amaranthine wreath
That is worn by the blest of God.
’
