For that resplendent gift of thine
Heroes have smiled in death:
Give me from some kind hand a flower,
The record of one happy hour!
Thou hast a voice, whose thrilling tone
Can bid each life-pulse beat,
As when a trumpet’s note hath blown,
Calling the brave to meet:
But mine, let mine—a woman’s breast,
By words of home-born love be bless’d.