Sweet is the breath of the springtime, when the sound of the bugle is heard,

Its soul thrilling pÆans swift echo the clear ringing notes of a bird;

And bright is the face of the hillside for summer's own coming arrayed,

The voice of the singer must falter, the beautiful flowers must fade.

Precious and far more enduring than the blessings kind nature bestows

Is Liberty, firmly abiding, a peerless memorial of those

Who turned from their calm avocations to cheerfully hurry away;

For a grateful people preserving the freedom we cherish to-day.

We see them; lo! here is a father, a brother, a lover, a friend,

They are marching, and marching, and marching till their kindred forces blend;

And boldly they strive to press forward, unawed by the battle's dread din,

So ready to struggle and suffer, to struggle and suffer and win.

Steadfast and faithful and fearless, though every advantage they gain

Is a legacy, cruel, of sorrow to the loved ones of the slain.

Hark! to the booming of cannon, to the shrill piercing scream of a shell,

And yonder poor widow is weeping a lad who at Gettysburg fell.

Leaden hail raining around him, at the head of the column he stood,

Determined if needs be to die there as only a patriot could;

And fighting as brave as a lion; ay, brave as a lion at bay,

He shouted "The Union forever!" and sank in the midst of the fray.

Then holy, thrice holy the record, the blood written record of deeds

Which proves, by the fruit of his effort, the work of the martyr succeeds;

And fitting it is that the blossoms should ever be destined to shed

A shower of delicate perfume o'er the hallowed graves of the dead.

Blessed it is to do homage to the men who would willingly give

The promises fair of the future, that we as a nation might live;

And whether they fell in the conflict, or wounded and weary returned,

May theirs be the glorious tribute the true hearted heroes have earned.

Sweet is the voice of the springtime when the soldiers assemble as one

To eulogize those who have fallen in the wake of service well done;

Many are quietly sleeping 'neath the blush of the warm southern sky,

But the lilies are blooming above them and the old flag floats on high.

They have bivouacked oft in the south-land, the enemy fully in view,

With cities and armies to conquer, herculean duties to do;

With the earth itself for a pillow, their shelter the heaven's blue dome,

But now all too swiftly and surely, the comrades are gathering home.

Into the Guardian Presence neither peril nor passion intrude,

When low at the feet of the Saviour the fountain of life is renewed;

As long as our country shall prosper, as long as our banner shall wave,

Sever the bonds of oppression as they severed the bonds of the slave.