Something stirring to lift the heart,
Something merry to move the toes;
Melody pure with a mirthful start
And a moving close.
Charges, marches, bugle-blasts,
Clarion-calls to the onset, tire;
Martial music a sadness casts,
Too long blown, e'en on hearts of fire.
Still the trumpet, and drop the drum!
Bid the fife for a moment cease!