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Oliver Wendell Holmes - At A Dinner To General Grant
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JULY 31, 1865

WHEN treason first began the strife
That crimsoned sea and shore,
The Nation poured her hoarded life
On Freedom`s threshing-floor;
From field and prairie, east and west,
From coast and hill and plain,
The sheaves of ripening manhood pressed
Thick as the bearded grain.

Rich was the harvest; souls as true
As ever battle tried;
But fiercer still the conflict grew,
The floor of death more wide;
Ah, who forgets that dreadful day
Whose blot of grief and shame
Four bitter years scarce wash away
In seas of blood and flame?

Vain, vain the Nation`s lofty boasts,--
Vain all her sacrifice!
"Give me a man to lead my hosts,
O God in heaven!" she cries.
While Battle whirls his crushing flail,
And plies his winnowing fan,--
Thick flies the chaff on every gale,--
She cannot find her man!

Bravely they fought who failed to win,--
Our leaders battle-scarred,--
Fighting the hosts of hell and sin,
But devils die always hard!
Blame not the broken tools of God
That helped our sorest needs;
Through paths that martyr feet have trod
The conqueror`s steps He leads.

But now the heavens grow black with doubt,
The ravens fill the sky,
"Friends" plot within, foes storm without,
Hark,--that despairing cry,
"Where is the heart, the hand, the brain
To dare, to do, to plan?"
The bleeding Nation shrieks in vain,--
She has not found her man!

A little echo stirs the air,--
Some tale, whate`er it be,
Of rebels routed in their lair
Along the Tennessee.
The little echo spreads and grows,
And soon the trump of Fame
Has taught the Nation`s friends and foes
The "man on horseback"`s name.

So well his warlike wooing sped,
No fortress might resist
His billets-doux of lisping lead,
The bayonets in his fist,--
With kisses from his cannons` mouth
He made his passion known
Till Vicksburg, vestal of the South,
Unbound her virgin zone.

And still where`er his banners led
He conquered as he came,
The trembling hosts of treason fled
Before his breath of flame,
And Fame`s still gathering echoes grew
Till high o`er Richmond`s towers
The starry fold of Freedom flew,
And all the land was ours.

Welcome from fields where valor fought
To feasts where pleasure waits;
A Nation gives you smiles unbought
At all her opening gates!
Forgive us when we press your hand,--
Your war-worn features scan,--
God sent you to a bleeding land;
Our Nation found its man!
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