No more throb the drum on the bare Georgian hills.
8th Pupil.
There is peace where the warriors of Gettysburg rest;
On the ramparts of Sumter the summer bird’s nest.
9th Pupil.
There is peace where the “Father of Waters” ran red,
Where the batteries of Mobile lie soundless and dead.
10th Pupil.
There is peace where the rifle hangs mantled with dust,
Where the once reeking saber is sheathed in its rust.