SONG.

Air—“Faintly Flows the Falling River.”

Here we bring a fragrant tribute,
To the bed where valor sleeps,
Though they missed the victor’s triumph,
O’er their tomb a nation weeps,
Honor through all time be rendered,
To their proud, heroic names,
Fondly be their mem’ry cherished,
Bright their never-dying fame.

Glowing in young manhood’s beauty,
Sprang they at their country’s call,
Made before the foeman’s legions
’Round our homes a living wall.
By disease’s foul breath withered,
Ere had dawned the battle-day,
On the fever couch of anguish,
Thousands passed from earth away.

Thousands, after deeds whose daring,
With their glory filled the land,
Fell before the flying foeman,
On the fields won by their hand.
Mourning o’er the fruitless struggle,
Bowed beneath the hand of God,
Come we weeping and yet proudly,
Now to deck this sacred sod.