We stood upon the field that morn;
Never was triumph so forlorn.
For of our band who fought that day
One half or dead or wounded lay,
When closed that fierce and fearful fray.
And on that field, ere daylight’s close,
We buried our dead, but mourned not those
We laid to rest beside our foes.
Revenge, not grief, our souls possest—
We heaped the earth upon each breast,