When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bunker Hill.
Here are lilies for the valorous, and roses for the brave;
And laurel for the victor’s crown, and rue for lowly grave.
There’s crimson for the blood that flowed that Freedom might be free,
And golden for the hearts of gold that died for you and me;
Till love no more is loving, we lift our souls and say,
For liberty find loyalty we bless their names to-day!
Civil War Pupil.
Strew the fair garlands where slumber the dead,
Ring out the strains like the swell of the sea,