Her rock-ribbed mountains, high and blue,
Are not more strong and not more true,
Than is her love for those who gave
Their strong, young life our Land to save,
Who heard great Lincoln’s call for men,
And died in field and prison-pen.
Blair’s heroes sleep far, far from home,
Their only epitaph, UNKNOWN!
But angels bright are sent of God
To watch beside their beds of sod.
Long as our mountains pierce the skies—
Till God shall bid the dead arise—
Ne’er let the work our heroes wrought,
By children’s children be forgot.

Brave Boys in Blue, when strife was o’er,
When cannon ceased to flame and roar;
When God’s sweet angel whispered Peace!
And caused the noise of war to cease;
With sun burnt face and battle scars,
Beneath the dear old Stripes and Stars,
Marched homeward to the hills of Blair,
While shouts of welcome filled the air.
These Boys in Blue, so brave and strong,
Are with us now, but not for long;
For one by one they pass within
The tent that has no outward swing.
The debt we owe them never can
Be paid on earth by mortal man.
May He who died a world to save
Smile on our heroes, true and brave.

Ida Clarkson Lewis (1847–1925)