The promises fair of the future, that we as a nation might live;
And whether they fell in the conflict, or wounded and weary returned,
May theirs be the glorious tribute the true hearted heroes have earned.
Sweet is the voice of the springtime when the soldiers assemble as one
To eulogize those who have fallen in the wake of service well done;
Many are quietly sleeping 'neath the blush of the warm southern sky,
But the lilies are blooming above them and the old flag floats on high.
They have bivouacked oft in the south-land, the enemy fully in view,
With cities and armies to conquer, herculean duties to do;
With the earth itself for a pillow, their shelter the heaven's blue dome,