We
Gazed Out Over The Landscape, Where The Fields Of Golden Grain
And Green Meadows Stretched Toward The City.
The broad silvery
current of the Potomac flashed in the sunlight.
Beyond lay the
city in its Sabbath stillness. The song of a blue bird, with its
softly warbled notes fell upon our ear, and the dreamy threnody
of a mourning dove made a soft accompaniment. We left this
charming spot and wandered slowly through this beautiful abode
of the Nation's heroic dead. At one place we paused before a
fuchsia-bordered plot of ground, where we read from a tablet:
"To the 4,713 unknown dead who slumber here," and opposite this
a coleus-lined space "dedicated to the 24,874 known dead," who
offered their lives, that the black stain of slavery might be
removed from the land. As we looked at the stretches of grass
and flowers which shone in their midst, at the myriads of leaves
upon the trees, the birds, the bees, and at the butterflies -
winged blossoms hovering over duller hued plants - we thought how
soon the tide of this joyous life around us would begin to ebb.
Soon the frost would dull the grass, tint the leaves with
rainbow hues and cause the flowers to fade. The birds would take
wing and leave the place for warmer climes. Then, after the
shroud of snow had been spread o'er the lifeless landscape, a
new and fairer spring would lift the pall of winter, and
glorious waves of warm life would cover the earth with beauty
again.
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