THE UNFALLEN BRAVENot all in sorrow and in tears,To pay of gratitude's arrearsThe yearly sum—Not prompted, wholly by the prideOf those for whom their friends have died,To-day we come.Another aim we have in viewThan for the buried boys in blueTo drop a tear:Memorial Day revives the chinOf Barnes, and Salomon chimes in—That's why we're here.And when in after-ages theyShall pass, like mortal men, away,Their war-song sung,Then fame will tell the tale anewOf how intrepidly they drewThe deadly tongue.Then cull white lilies for the gravesOf Liberty's loquacious braves,And roses red.Those represent their livers, theseThe blood that in unmeasured seasThey did not shed.
Not all in sorrow and in tears,To pay of gratitude's arrearsThe yearly sum—Not prompted, wholly by the prideOf those for whom their friends have died,To-day we come.Another aim we have in viewThan for the buried boys in blueTo drop a tear:Memorial Day revives the chinOf Barnes, and Salomon chimes in—That's why we're here.And when in after-ages theyShall pass, like mortal men, away,Their war-song sung,Then fame will tell the tale anewOf how intrepidly they drewThe deadly tongue.Then cull white lilies for the gravesOf Liberty's loquacious braves,And roses red.Those represent their livers, theseThe blood that in unmeasured seasThey did not shed.