And bravely die when God shall call,
Who gathers but that he may give,
And with his fellows shares his all.
Constant Beauty
It's good to have the trees again, the singing of the breeze again,
It's good to see the lilacs bloom as lovely as of old.
It's good that we can feel again, the touch of beauties real again,
For hearts and minds, of sorrow now, have all that they can hold.
The roses haven't changed a bit, nor have the peonies stranged a bit,