The Unfallen Brave

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The Unfallen Brave

Not all in sorrow and in tears,

To pay of gratitude’s arrears

The yearly sum⁠—

Not prompted, wholly by the pride

Of those for whom their friends have died,

To-day we come.

Another aim we have in view

Than for the buried boys in blue

To drop a tear:

Memorial Day revives the chin

Of Barnes, and Salomon chimes in⁠—

That’s why we’re here.

And when in after ages they

Shall pass, like mortal men, away,

Their war-song sung⁠—

When Fame shall tell the tale anew

Of how intrepidly they drew

The deadly tongue⁠—

Then cull white lilies for the graves

Of Loyalty’s loquacious braves,

And roses red.

Those represent their livers, these

The blood that in unmeasured seas

They did not shed.