"One of the spectators, while we marched through the streets of Bangor to take the cars, was the poet David Barker. He was so moved by the sight that he wrote the following lines, without which this history would not be complete:

Addressed to the Eighteenth Maine Regiment on its departure to the seat of war, 1862"

YOU THOUSAND OF MEN

Say, where are you going, you thousand of men?
Now one thing is certain,
That never, ah never
This side the deep river,
This side the dark curtain
Just flung out to screen us,
Which drops down between us
And those who've passed over
That cold, stormy river,
No, never again
Shall this crowd ever meet you,
Shall this throng ever greet you
In a bodily form
With your hearts beating warm-
You thousand of men!

But, thank the Great Giver,
Though crossing that river
Your barks may be shattered,
Your outer garbs tattered -
Thank God that again
From the mount you inherit
You may come back in spirit,
All you who pass over
That cold, stormy river -
You may come back to meet us,
You may come back to greet us
With your hearts beating warm
In a blesseder form -
You thousand of men!

With the clearest of vision
I have witnessed the yearning
Of the troops now returning
From the land so elysian;
Of the troops who passed over
That cold, stormy river
'Mid the roar and the rattle
Of a nation in battle -
So, quickly again
From the mount you inherit
You must come back to meet us,
You must come back to greet us,
You must come back in spirit
With your hearts beating warm
In a blissfuller form,
All you who pass over
That cold, stormy river -
From you thousand of men!



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