Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands,
Were trampled by a hurrying crowd,
And fiery hearts and armed hands
Encountered in the battle cloud.
Ah! never shall the land forget
How gushed the life-blood of her brave—
Gushed, warm with life and courage yet,
Upon the soil they fought to save.
Now all is calm and fresh and still,
Alone the chirp of flitting bird,