To the day and the deed, strike the harp-strings of glory!
Let the song of the ransomed remember the dead,
And the tongue of the eloquent hallow the story!
O’er the bones of the bold
Be the story long told,
And on fame’s golden tablets their triumphs enrolled
Who on freedom’s green hills freedom’s banner unfurled,
And the beacon-fire raised that gave light to the world!
They are gone—mighty men!—and they sleep in their fame:
Shall we ever forget them? Oh, never! no, never!