Yet not of them alone
Round each memorial stone
Shall the proud breezes whisper as they pass,
Rustling the faded leaves
On chilly autumn eves,
And swaying tenderly the sheltering grass!
O ye who on this field
Knew not the joy to yield
Your young, glad lives in glorious conflict up;
Ye who as bravely fought,
Ye who as grandly wrought,
Draining with them war’s darkly bitter cup,
As long as stars endure
And God and Truth are sure;
While Love still claims its own,
While Honor holds its throne
And Valor hath a name,
Still shall these stony pages
Repeat to all the ages
The story of your fame!