  Clear sounds the call on high: "To arms and victory!" Brave hearts that win or die, Dying, may win; Proudly the banners wave, What though the goal's the grave? Death cannot harm the brave,— Through death they win. Softly the evening hush Stilling strife's maddened rush Cools the fierce battle flush,— See the day die; A thousand faces white Mirror the cold moonlight And glassy eyes are bright With Victory. |
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