Still surges up as though of yesterday
The memory of those that passed away;
Still floating down the vista of the years,
We hear their voices, see their smiles and tears.
In each successive strife how fast they fell—
The tried companions that we knew so well.
Some, fleeing from the ghastly prison pen,
By bloodhounds tracked were slain in swamp and fen;
Some ashes mingle with the sounding tide,
And some enrich the rugged mountain side,