| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 748. The Aged Stranger |
| | | An Incident of the War |
| | | By Francis Bret Harte |
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| “I WAS with Grant”—the stranger said; | |
| Said the farmer, “Say no more, | |
| But rest thee here at my cottage porch, | |
| For thy feet are weary and sore.” | |
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| “I was with Grant”—the stranger said; | 5 |
| Said the farmer, “Nay, no more,— | |
| I prithee sit at my frugal board, | |
| And eat of my humble store. | |
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| “How fares my boy,—my soldier boy, | |
| Of the old Ninth Army Corps? | 10 |
| I warrant he bore him gallantly | |
| In the smoke and the battle’s roar!” | |
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| “I know him not,” said the aged man, | |
| “And, as I remarked before, | |
| I was with Grant”—“Nay, nay, I know,” | 15 |
| Said the farmer, “say no more: | |
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| “He fell in battle,—I see, alas! | |
| Thou ’dst smooth these tidings o’er,— | |
| Nay, speak the truth, whatever it be, | |
| Though it rend my bosom’s core. | 20 |
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| “How fell he,—with his face to the foe, | |
| Upholding the flag he bore? | |
| Oh, say not that my boy disgraced | |
| The uniform that he wore!” | |
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| “I cannot tell,” said the aged man, | 25 |
| “And should have remarked before, | |
| That I was with Grant,—in Illinois,— | |
| Some three years before the war.” | |
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| Then the farmer spake him never a word, | |
| But beat with his fist full sore | 30 |
| That aged man, who had worked for Grant | |
| Some three years before the war. | |
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