The Unfallen Brave

Not all in sorrow and in tears,
To pay of gratitude’s arrears
      The yearly sum⁠—
Not prompted, wholly by the pride
Of those for whom their friends have died,
      To-day we come.

Another aim we have in view
Than for the buried boys in blue
      To drop a tear:
Memorial Day revives the chin
Of Barnes, and Salomon chimes in⁠—
      That’s why we’re here.

And when in after ages they
Shall pass, like mortal men, away,
      Their war-song sung⁠—
When Fame shall tell the tale anew
Of how intrepidly they drew
      The deadly tongue⁠—

Then cull white lilies for the graves
Of Loyalty’s loquacious braves,
      And roses red.
Those represent their livers, these
The blood that in unmeasured seas
      They did not shed.