  Bells of victory are dumb; Trailing sword and muffled drum On we come, Downcast eyes and broken tread, Weary arms, and burdenÈd With our dead. Lives were proffered: reck not his; For dear Freedom’s ransom is Sacrifice. Proud our love is, nor at last With a sorrow that is past O’er the very clay we bring, Meet it is that we should sing Triumphing: He was foremost, he was leal; Let his gallant breast reveal Honor’s seal. Him we yield the Roman crown, Woven bays; in his renown Lay him down. Earth will softest pillow make, So that never heart shall ache For his sake; Spring will pass here many a day, Sighing, one with thoughts that pray Far away, “When the trumpets shake the sod, Raise Thy Knight from this dull clod, Lord our God!” |
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