The pageant has passed. That day is over. But we linger, loath to think we shall see them no more together - these men, these horses, these colors afield.

A radiant fellowship of the fallen.

There is a way of losing that is finding. When soul overmasters sense. When the noble and divine self overcomes the lower self. When duty and honor and love immortal things bid the mortal perish. It is only when a man supremely gives that he supremely finds

My officers and men understood wishes so well that this movement was executed under fire, the right wing keeping up fire, without giving the enemy any occasion to seize or even to suspect their advantage.

But the cause for which we fought was higher; our thought wider... That thought was our power.

Those who will may raise monuments of marble to perpetuate the fame of heroes. Those who will may build memorial halls to remind those who shall gather there in after times what manhood could do and dare for right, and what high examples of virtue and valor have gone before them. But let us make our offering to the ever-living soul. Let us build our benefactions in the ever-growing heart, that they shall live and rise and spread in blessing beyond our sight, beyond the ken of man and beyond the touch of time.

The pageant has passed. That day is over. But we linger, loath to think we shall see them no more together - these men, these horses, these colors afield.