WELCOME HOME
July, 1885
WAR-WORN, sun-scorched, stained with the dust of toil,And battle-scarred they come—victorious.Exultantly we greet them; cleave the skyWith cheers, and fling our banners to the winds;We raise triumphant songs, and strew their pathTo do them homage—bid them "Welcome Home."We laid our country's honor in their handsAnd sent them forth undoubting; said farewellWith hearts too proud, too jealous of their fameTo own our pain. To-day glad tears may flow.To-day they come again, and bring their gift—Of all earth's gifts most precious—trust redeemed.We stretch our hands, we lift a joyful cry,Words of all words the sweetest—"Welcome Home!"Oh, brave true hearts! oh, steadfast loyal hearts!They come, and lay their trophies at our feet:They show us work accomplished, hardships borne,Courageous deeds, and patience under pain,Their country's name upheld and glorified,And Peace, dear purchased by their blood and toil.What guerdon have we for such service done?Our thanks, our pride, our praises, and our prayers;Our country's smile, and her most just rewards;The victor's laurel laid upon their brows,And all the love that speaks in "Welcome Home!"Bays for the heroes: for the martyrs, palms!To those who come not, who "though dead yet speak"A lesson to be guarded in our soulsWhile the land lives for whose dear sake they died—Whose lives, thrice sacred, are the price of peace,Whose memory, thrice belovëd, thrice revered,Shall be their country's heritage, to holdEternal pattern to her living sons—What dare we bring? They, dying, have won all.A drooping flag, a flower upon their graves,Are all the tribute left,—already theirsA nation's safety, gratitude, and tears,Imperishable honor, endless rest!And ye, O stricken-hearted! to whom earthIs dark though Peace is smiling, whom no prideCan soothe, no triumph-pæan can console,Ye surely will not fail them—will not shrinkTo perfect now your sacrifice of love?
WAR-WORN, sun-scorched, stained with the dust of toil,And battle-scarred they come—victorious.Exultantly we greet them; cleave the skyWith cheers, and fling our banners to the winds;We raise triumphant songs, and strew their pathTo do them homage—bid them "Welcome Home."We laid our country's honor in their handsAnd sent them forth undoubting; said farewellWith hearts too proud, too jealous of their fameTo own our pain. To-day glad tears may flow.To-day they come again, and bring their gift—Of all earth's gifts most precious—trust redeemed.We stretch our hands, we lift a joyful cry,Words of all words the sweetest—"Welcome Home!"Oh, brave true hearts! oh, steadfast loyal hearts!They come, and lay their trophies at our feet:They show us work accomplished, hardships borne,Courageous deeds, and patience under pain,Their country's name upheld and glorified,And Peace, dear purchased by their blood and toil.What guerdon have we for such service done?Our thanks, our pride, our praises, and our prayers;Our country's smile, and her most just rewards;The victor's laurel laid upon their brows,And all the love that speaks in "Welcome Home!"Bays for the heroes: for the martyrs, palms!To those who come not, who "though dead yet speak"A lesson to be guarded in our soulsWhile the land lives for whose dear sake they died—Whose lives, thrice sacred, are the price of peace,Whose memory, thrice belovëd, thrice revered,Shall be their country's heritage, to holdEternal pattern to her living sons—What dare we bring? They, dying, have won all.A drooping flag, a flower upon their graves,Are all the tribute left,—already theirsA nation's safety, gratitude, and tears,Imperishable honor, endless rest!And ye, O stricken-hearted! to whom earthIs dark though Peace is smiling, whom no prideCan soothe, no triumph-pæan can console,Ye surely will not fail them—will not shrinkTo perfect now your sacrifice of love?
WAR-WORN, sun-scorched, stained with the dust of toil,And battle-scarred they come—victorious.Exultantly we greet them; cleave the skyWith cheers, and fling our banners to the winds;We raise triumphant songs, and strew their pathTo do them homage—bid them "Welcome Home."
WAR-WORN, sun-scorched, stained with the dust of toil,
And battle-scarred they come—victorious.
Exultantly we greet them; cleave the sky
With cheers, and fling our banners to the winds;
We raise triumphant songs, and strew their path
To do them homage—bid them "Welcome Home."
We laid our country's honor in their handsAnd sent them forth undoubting; said farewellWith hearts too proud, too jealous of their fameTo own our pain. To-day glad tears may flow.To-day they come again, and bring their gift—Of all earth's gifts most precious—trust redeemed.We stretch our hands, we lift a joyful cry,Words of all words the sweetest—"Welcome Home!"
We laid our country's honor in their hands
And sent them forth undoubting; said farewell
With hearts too proud, too jealous of their fame
To own our pain. To-day glad tears may flow.
To-day they come again, and bring their gift—
Of all earth's gifts most precious—trust redeemed.
We stretch our hands, we lift a joyful cry,
Words of all words the sweetest—"Welcome Home!"
Oh, brave true hearts! oh, steadfast loyal hearts!They come, and lay their trophies at our feet:They show us work accomplished, hardships borne,Courageous deeds, and patience under pain,Their country's name upheld and glorified,And Peace, dear purchased by their blood and toil.What guerdon have we for such service done?Our thanks, our pride, our praises, and our prayers;Our country's smile, and her most just rewards;The victor's laurel laid upon their brows,And all the love that speaks in "Welcome Home!"
Oh, brave true hearts! oh, steadfast loyal hearts!
They come, and lay their trophies at our feet:
They show us work accomplished, hardships borne,
Courageous deeds, and patience under pain,
Their country's name upheld and glorified,
And Peace, dear purchased by their blood and toil.
What guerdon have we for such service done?
Our thanks, our pride, our praises, and our prayers;
Our country's smile, and her most just rewards;
The victor's laurel laid upon their brows,
And all the love that speaks in "Welcome Home!"
Bays for the heroes: for the martyrs, palms!To those who come not, who "though dead yet speak"A lesson to be guarded in our soulsWhile the land lives for whose dear sake they died—Whose lives, thrice sacred, are the price of peace,Whose memory, thrice belovëd, thrice revered,Shall be their country's heritage, to holdEternal pattern to her living sons—What dare we bring? They, dying, have won all.A drooping flag, a flower upon their graves,Are all the tribute left,—already theirsA nation's safety, gratitude, and tears,Imperishable honor, endless rest!
Bays for the heroes: for the martyrs, palms!
To those who come not, who "though dead yet speak"
A lesson to be guarded in our souls
While the land lives for whose dear sake they died—
Whose lives, thrice sacred, are the price of peace,
Whose memory, thrice belovëd, thrice revered,
Shall be their country's heritage, to hold
Eternal pattern to her living sons—
What dare we bring? They, dying, have won all.
A drooping flag, a flower upon their graves,
Are all the tribute left,—already theirs
A nation's safety, gratitude, and tears,
Imperishable honor, endless rest!
And ye, O stricken-hearted! to whom earthIs dark though Peace is smiling, whom no prideCan soothe, no triumph-pæan can console,Ye surely will not fail them—will not shrinkTo perfect now your sacrifice of love?
And ye, O stricken-hearted! to whom earth
Is dark though Peace is smiling, whom no pride
Can soothe, no triumph-pæan can console,
Ye surely will not fail them—will not shrink
To perfect now your sacrifice of love?