BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS.

Again the sacred day has come
When tears and flowers shall fall

On the graves of our sleeping heroes
Who died at Liberty's call.

And the tears we shed above them,
As our hearts with tenderness bled,

Is the crown of their matchless glory
And earth's divinest mead.

Their deeds on the field of battle
Were such as a god might do,

And the listening angels applauded
The work of the boys in blue.

The flag they died defending
Still floats above their grave,

And is loved by millions of freemen,
But never looked on by a slave.

The country they loved and bled for,
Still true to her sacred trust,

Will cover their names with glory
And revere their hallowed dust.

The comrades who still survive them,
Like gold in the furnace tried,

Speak, with tear-dimmed lashes,
Of the gallant boys that died.

These flowers will fade and perish,
Tho' hallowed by each grave;

But they will live forever
In the hearts of the true and the brave.

Then let this custom continue
Till tears and flowers shall cease,

And we shall greet the gallant boys
On the shores of endless peace.