While hurrying from peaceful plow
To war's red-stainéd field they came.
Not theirs 'neath tyranny to bow;
Not theirs a country's death and shame;
But to go on to greater height
With wings outspread for purer flight.
Hail heroes in our country's need!
We bring ye wreathes of laurel leaves;
We gather of the scattered seed
In full and ripened harvest sheaves.