Hush'd be the camps to-day; And, soldiers, let us drape our war-worn weapons; And each with musing soul retire, to celebrate, Our dear commander's death. No more for him life's stormy conflicts; Nor victory, nor defeat-- no more time's dark events, Charging like ceaseless clouds across the sky. But sing, poet, in our name; Sing of the love we bore him-- because you, dweller in camps, know it truly. As they invault the coffin there; Sing-- as they close the doors of earth upon him-- one verse, For the heavy hearts of soldiers. Walt Whitman-- 1865 GOD SAVE THE UNION AND OUR MARTYR ABRAHAM LINCOLN FEB 12 1809 APRIL 16 1865