IN MEMORY Read at the Dedication of the Soldier’s Monument, Newport, Ohio, July 8, 1913 “In Memory” we say, and here we pause For each heart has its treasured memory Wherewith a stranger intermeddleth not. A Bible holds a lock of shining hair, A mother placed therein with tender touch, When she had kissed her boy a long good night; Letters are laid away from careless eyes— It may be on the slowly yellowing husk That hides from sight the words fog written gold—— There stands as guard some famous war-in-chief, Or blooms a flag-decked tree of liberty; A cap that shaded merry laughing eyes Is hung away---he will not wear it more; Blue coats that one time covered throbbing hearts True to the cause they loved, are empty now— By careful hands wrapped, fold in fold they lie,   With wrinkled rose-leaves sweet with summer’s dead, Unseen, unworn--or only as in case Known to you all--brought out by tender hands To shield in his last rest a father’s form Whose heart could not forget; for he through the Long years had cherished it, and dying asked That when the end should come he might sleep Wearing the coat of blue His only Son Had worn when he had heard his country’s cry. And answered with his life to her dire need; A rusted old canteen, from which you drank, You followed fearless in the face of death: These things, aye, more than these, you guard with care, The priceless tokens of your priceless past; And as you look on them the heart grows warm, And nevermore with you remains. Today the churchyard pines sing low, sweet psalms, And breathe their healing balms above men grown gray; Whose lithe young feet answered their country’s call, And wore their country’s blue in her defense, The ranks are full once more —not one s dead! Each soldier answers to fame’s roll—call, “Here!” And through the mist of years young faces shine Wearing the freshness of immortal youth. Now unto those who brought to our loved land--  Dear motherland!—who knows no North or South— The blessed peace, which holds her house in sway: And unto these, this younger hero breed, True sons of our free land and soldier sires— Fair bright-eyed boys whose hair still wore the shine Of babyhood — who offered up themselves That other lands might breathe our freedom’s air, The measure of your sacrifice is full! For greater love hath no man than this, The laying down of life for stranger-friend. And lo this soldier-priest! Fit emblem he Of future bloodless wars that shall be fought, When every man for love of brother man Shall wage a mighty battle ‘gainst sin. And from our borders shall be driven out All that corrupts, that weakens or destroys, And there shall be one universal peace, And man be keeper of his brother man: And mothers, like them other of this man, When came the brief, sad words, “Your son is dead.” With meekly folded hands bowed to the stroke, Saying: “Be still, O soul of mine, be still. And know that I am God.” For she with God Had wrought through his young years that she might bring To manhood’s stainless stature him she loved, And she believed that the Great Sculptor’s hands Would perfect his own plan in heavenly heights; And unto all who with soul-stirring words Of prayers or tears or sacrifice they made Have helped to usher in our nation’s peace, And heal the blood-red wounds made by the war, In heartfelt gratitude we pause to-day, As with uncovered heads we stand before This token of the work you wrought, O heroes Living, and dear deathless dead! In years to come When children now unborn shall ask of you The meaning of this stone you dedicate, May all the holy memories of the past With present noble purpose of life So enter in the tale of your lips shell tell, That sons and daughters never can forget. -Ella Hays McRae Scio, Ohio